Chapter 85: Annihilating the Mage

Shaoke frowned slightly, turning his staff gently. "Do they live here too?" Mage Roland shook his head. "No, Mage Xueye. Some of the later mages didn't stay with us, probably due to differences between factions."

"Tell them to leave and return to their own quarters. I believe we have that right." After a moment of thought, Shaoke lowered his voice and proposed his solution to Mage Roland.

Before Mage Roland could respond, the leading Young Mage opposite them snorted with laughter. "Ha! You think you can make us leave? If it weren't for the Seventh Tier Mage guarding the Female Mages' area, I'd have already invited them over to our place." He finished with a disdainful glance at Shaoke.

Mage Roland explained quietly, "Mage Xueye, he's originally from here. His father is a noble, albeit the lowest rank of baron, but I've heard they have close ties with those in the Mage Guild." Mage Roland seemed about to say more, but Shaoke waved his hand to stop him.

"Leave. If I recall correctly, this courtyard does not belong to you." Shaoke tightened his cloak. He wasn't concerned with the reasons for the dispute among these mages; he was only bothered because their excessively loud noise had disturbed his magical studies.

The mage opposite brandished his staff, about to speak, but Shaoke suddenly began chanting the incantation for *Fireball*. According to the rules here, if a mage not belonging to this courtyard entered and, after being told to leave by the resident mages, still refused, the resident mages were free to deal with the unruly mage—provided they had the capability.

A fireball the size of a washbasin rapidly formed, fueled by Shaoke's swiftly growing mental power and mana, though slightly slower than if he had used hand seals. Under the astonished gazes of the surrounding mages, the fireball, trailing a long tail of flame, shot toward the mage who had just regained his composure.

In panic, the nearby mages hurriedly activated the defensive spells on their robes, fearing the splashing flames might reach them due to the close proximity.

After casting his spell, Shaoke also quickly activated the first-level defensive spell inherent in his robe.

Seeing Shaoke's spell, the mage, though slightly flustered, promptly activated the magic circle on his robe and uttered a few syllables in the Ancient Magic Tongue. The ruby at the tip of his staff suddenly shattered, and a second-tier defensive spell swiftly enveloped him.

Guided by Shaoke's mental lock, the fireball slammed heavily into the opponent's head. It broke through the first-level defensive spell but, upon encountering the second-tier defense, merely exploded against it. The flames scattered, causing only a scare to the nearby mages and shaking the opponent's second-tier defense without breaking it.

Seeing the spell's effect was insufficient, Shaoke quickly began chanting *Scorching Ray*, the most penetrating first-level spell. A beam of crimson light, thick as an egg, shot through the fireball the opponent had just released, pierced the activated second-tier defensive spell, and shattered the opponent's skull.

Only then did the other mages panic. Shaoke had no time to dodge the fireball that had lost control due to its caster's death. Fortunately, the fireball's spell structure had been damaged by his own spell, reducing its power. It struck Shaoke, who had turned in time, causing no major harm. It only broke his first-level defensive spell, allowing some flames to land on his back and ignite.

Thankfully, the material of his second-tier robe somewhat slowed the burning. Moreover, Mage Roland promptly cast the zero-tier *Frost Ray*, disregarding any potential harm to Shaoke, and extinguished the flames.

Thus, Shaoke's first duel with a mage of the same tier occurred under absurd circumstances and ended swiftly after casting two first-level spells, resulting in one death and one injury.

The Second Tier Mages in the courtyard quickly arrived, preventing potentially greater chaos. Faced with about a hundred Second Tier Mages, the dozen or so mages who had come to cause trouble stood frozen, their faces pale. One mage, seeing the formerly spirited mage lying on the ground with a large portion of his skull missing, couldn't help but stagger back, leaning against a companion behind him.

In this situation, Mage Roland and the other newly arrived mages were deeply worried. They feared Shaoke would be punished for killing a mage of the same tier here, worried the dead mage's family would seek revenge, and also concerned about resentment from the mages who had been here for years.

A Second Tier Mage examined Shaoke's injury and frowned. "Is that how you cast spells? Since when has the effective range of *Fireball* become so short? Couldn't you have attacked from farther away?" Despite his words, he raised his staff and began chanting. The first-tier healing spell 'Pain Relief' was soon cast on Shaoke's burn. A gray light writhed over the wound for a while before slowly fading.

Shaoke groaned in pain. The sensation of flames scorching his skin reminded him of death, of the magical beasts he had hunted with fireballs. For a moment, he felt like the bandit set ablaze by flames, a wave of despair washing over him.

Though the restorative spell lasted only briefly, its effect was good. At least Shaoke now felt the previously painful muscles on his back turn cool, and the biting cold from Mage Roland's spell also subsided.

"Thank you," Shaoke said, struggling to stand straight. Blood trickled from his already chapped lips.

The mage who had cast the healing spell glared fiercely at the newcomers. "Didn't you know to weaken his spell first? Even a zero-tier spell could have reduced the fireball's power." He then turned to Shaoke standing nearby and said irritably, "Go back to your room and rest. We'll handle things here."

Shaoke shook his head. He didn't want to leave the mess to others after the incident, nor was he worried about facing military punishment for it.

The mage who had treated Shaoke shrugged and pointed at the injury. "I think you should go back and rest for a while. I suspect your internal organs have been shaken. I'll call a physician to examine you later; they're the professionals, after all."

Shaoke nodded and thanked the mage.

The surrounding newcomers looked at the increasingly disfigured Shaoke with astonishment. They couldn't understand why this mage had dared to personally kill a mage of the same tier here, especially the son of a noble. Only Mage Roland and a few other new mages thought it over and set aside their worries.

Soon, a Third Tier Mage arrived. Shaoke recognized him as the mage who had first received them. The mage glanced at the corpse missing half its skull on the ground, then at the other protagonist still standing, and smiled slightly. "It seems your Spellcasting condition is quite good. However, I suggest you reduce your Meditation time. If this continues, even if you advance to Third Tier Mage, you might end up bedridden, permanently losing the ability to cast spells."

Shaoke nodded. "I've already noticed this situation and will be more careful in the future." The Third Tier Mage shook his head. "I hope when I see you next time, you can still maintain your current state."

The Third Tier Mage then pointed at the mages who had come to cause trouble. "Carry him out. You can dump him anywhere. Leave immediately." He turned back to Shaoke with a smile. "I think your actions today have done me a great favor. This example saves us the trouble of racking our brains for one. Ha!"

Under the Third Tier Mage's order, the dozen or so mages hastily lifted the body of their former leader and scurried out. Soon, peace returned to the mages' area, though the newcomers still gathered around Shaoke, puzzled as to why he hadn't been punished.

After nodding to Mage Roland, Shaoke gathered his torn cloak and returned to his room. As the Second Tier Mage had said, he felt his internal organs were injured, and quite severely at that.

After taking some auxiliary drugs, Shaoke immediately began meditating, habitually wanting to restore his depleted mental power and mana as quickly as possible.

The physician's arrival interrupted his meditation. The middle-aged physician briefly examined Shaoke's wound, applied some ointment, and gave him some oral medication. He urged Shaoke to take the medicine on time to speed up the healing of the injury.

After asking about medication taboos, Shaoke felt relieved, as these drugs wouldn't interfere with his use of auxiliary drugs for meditation. However, the physician worried that this might slow the recovery of his already weakened internal organs under the erosion of mana and mental power, but Shaoke paid no heed.

After meditation, Shaoke carefully reflected on what he had just done and struck his thigh in frustration. He didn't know why he had acted so impulsively.

According to regulations, the military would definitely not punish him at all for killing that mage. However, at this stage, he could only hide in the military camp and not go out. Otherwise, he couldn't guarantee that walking in this somewhat chaotic city wouldn't lead to assassination attempts by Archers or the like. After all, the other party's father was a noble here, albeit the lowest rank, and would still possess some influence.

In the evening, Mage Roland came to Shaoke's room. Looking at Shaoke leaning on the bed reading, he said excitedly, "Mage Xueye, you've paid such a price for our sake. How can I ever repay you?" Mage Roland refused to sit, standing by Shaoke's bed and performing a Mage Etiquette. He added with lingering fear, "If that fireball hadn't had its spell structure damaged, the consequences would have been unimaginable."

Shaoke sat up straight, smoothing his gradually darkening hair. "There's nothing to worry about now. Although it was dangerous, I'm fine, aren't I? We'll just learn from this lesson next time." He paused. "After doing something, don't dwell on whether you should have done it, and don't worry about the consequences. Even the most powerful mages cannot turn back time. What we must do is learn from this experience. Next time we face such a situation, I believe we'll find a better way to handle it."

After chatting with Shaoke a while longer, Mage Roland invited him to that evening's banquet. "Mage Xueye, I think you should go take a look. Those Female Mages are quite approachable, and that Cleric will be there tonight too. We can talk with her; I think it would be very helpful for us."

Shaoke shook his head, waving the book in his hand. "Mage Roland, you go ahead. I won't be going. I don't think the wound on my back allows for such activities." Seeing Mage Roland's guilt, Shaoke quickly reassured him. "Mage Roland, I don't blame you. This is entirely my own fault for being too... too impulsive. I think you understand."

Mage Roland thought for a moment. "Yes, impulsive. That's it, impulsive. Mage Xueye, I think you should go out more often. Staying here studying spells for long periods can easily make one feel stifled. I think your impulsiveness today might be related to that." Mage Roland offered his views somewhat uncertainly.

Shaoke pondered this and felt there was truth to it. The pressure from prolonged advancement, the troubles of low strength—if not relieved in time, it might lead to such extreme impulsiveness. After all, unlike other mages who went out every few days to chat with others, he had no peers in his room to talk to.