Dark Magus Returns

Chapter 1459: An Angry Magus

The sword’s gleaming edge hovered just a hair’s breadth from George’s throat. The swing had been swift, deadly precise, and it left no doubt in anyone’s mind, if Liam had truly wanted to, he could have ended George’s life in that very instant. But he hadn’t.

It was strange, unsettling even. As he lowered the blade, Liam had half-expected one of the teachers to step forward, to intercept the strike, to raise a hand and call the match in his favor. Surely someone would declare him the victor. And yet no one moved. No interruption came. Was it possible they all trusted him to have perfect control over his weapon? Or was it something else, perhaps their desperate hope that George still had something left to give, some miracle he could pull from the depths to turn the tide?

But that miracle never came. At least, Liam thought it hadn’t. To him, the battle was over, the result obvious.

“I… lost?” George whispered. His voice cracked as though the word itself was poison in his throat. His eyes were locked on Liam, but they didn’t seem focused. It was as if he were staring past him, unwilling to accept what stood right before him.

Then his shock twisted into fury. “No, I can’t lose!” he roared, his voice echoing across the arena. His hand lashed out, his gravitational magic flaring violently. At this close range, the effect was magnified; if he managed to touch his opponent, it would become far more devastating.

George rarely resorted to this tactic. Most battles were fought at range, spell against spell. But once, against opponents too weak to matter, he had tested it, using his gravitational magic through direct contact. The results had been terrifying, overwhelming. He knew exactly what it was capable of.

Even so, some part of him realized that grabbing Liam himself was unlikely. Liam was too fast, too sharp. So instead, George reached for the sword.

’No… you fool!’ Liam thought, panic surging through him. ’If you grab this sword, it will cut straight through your hand!’

His mind raced with the image: blood spraying, George’s hand severed clean, the horrified gasps of the audience. And in the aftermath, the blame would fall squarely on him. They would accuse him of going too far, of recklessness, of cruelty. All of it would be pinned on Liam, not on George’s desperation.

With no time to think further, Liam acted. He triggered the nanomachines within his body, synchronizing them with his Qi. His arm jerked upward with blinding speed, pulling the blade away just as George’s hand closed around nothing but empty air.

But the system in his body had already calculated the next step. It offered him a solution, and like so many times before, Liam trusted it. His leg snapped up, driving into George’s stomach with incredible force.

The kick landed with the weight of a hammer. George’s body lifted from the ground, launched backward like a ragdoll. He slammed into the barrier wall with bone-rattling force. The protective enchantment shuddered violently, a shockwave rippling outward, climbing all the way up the dome until it rattled the very top. The echo of the impact thundered across the arena.

When George fell, he did not rise. His body slumped to the floor, motionless, unconscious.

Liam lowered his foot, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. Then, with a mischievous grin, he threw his voice into the arena. “Windy Wind Kick!” he declared with exaggerated confidence.

The crowd erupted in cheers, laughter spilling over into applause. The fight had ended long before, but this sealed it. George, once hailed as one of Central Academy’s strongest, was lying defeated, not even twitching.

And yet the audience seized on Liam’s words instantly.

“Did you see that? He enhanced his kick with wind magic!”

“Of course! If he can coat his blade with wind sharp enough to slice through spells, then strengthening a strike with the same magic makes sense. No wonder it hit so hard!”

“Right! As a magic swordsman, it’s only natural he’d want to enhance his close-range strength. The lightning magic is just to control the range. He lures his opponent in, then crushes them with his true skills.”

“Such versatility… that’s what makes him so dangerous.”

Liam nearly laughed aloud. He was always grateful for how mages loved to overthink. They were so quick to analyze, to theorize, to explain what they didn’t understand. It spared him the trouble. With the system’s guidance, he always had an excuse ready, but most of the time, he didn’t even need it. The crowd built their own explanations, and all he had to do was nod and let them believe it.

If pressed, he would simply echo their theories, pick whichever lie sounded the most convincing. That was enough.

As the cheers rolled on, Liam gave a final wave before stepping onto the platform that lowered him back down to his team.

“Well, well, well,” Wilton said, his grin splitting wide as Liam returned. “I knew this day would come. They always say the same thing, don’t they? That every empire, no matter how strong, will eventually fall.”

The other principals turned toward him sharply, disbelief etched on their faces. To them, Wilton looked like a madman. Because in that very instant, the swirling storm of mana pouring from Ibarin was unmistakable. It pressed into the air like a suffocating weight, thick and violent, crushing down on everyone present. Even seasoned magi found it difficult to breathe.

But Wilton only smiled brighter, his eyes alight with satisfaction, as though he were reveling in his rival’s fury.

“There is still one fight left,” Wilton continued, his voice carrying like a blade through the heavy air. “And after it’s finished, I imagine you’ll have no choice but to speak with your friends, the other Grand Magus. You’ll have to reconsider your support. Because all of this…” His grin widened. “All of this is for the greater good of Altieran.”

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