I will be crowned king

Anson, who was tense all over, stared at Mace Honnard without blinking, trying desperately to restrain his trembling legs so that he could calm down and not be so...

Creepy!

To be honest, when fighting Blown, he did find that he had seriously underestimated the enemy's strength; this also had something to do with experience, as the victims he had not come into contact with were born with defects and believed in small advertisements (referring to Kroger Bell) Na), they are second-rate amateurs (referring to the Old God Sect gangsters outside the city), who have never had any direct contact with the real Old God Sect organization.

Even so, the Black Mage's strength was beyond his imagination - the inquisitor captain of the dignified Inquisition actually did not survive a confrontation and fell apart on the spot.

And Mace Hornard...he didn't even get up from his chair!

The black mage sitting in the armchair was still looking at him gently like an elder, with his outstretched right hand still hovering in the air, waiting for Anson to hand over the box containing the memory card of "The Great Magic Book".

Anson, who desperately twitched his throat, lowered his head: Laurence Bernat's shredded body was mixed with plasma, directly covering the floor and two walls. It was mixed with Bloen's body, making it almost impossible to tell who was who. .

At that moment, Anson was very sure that he only heard a gunshot, and the explosion was definitely not the lead bullets ejected from the ax gun. Within the radius of 20 meters of the casting range, the caster's sense of distance can block black magic to a certain extent. hallucination.

What happened? !

The right hand holding the mechanical box tightly was hidden behind his back, and his palm was already covered with sweat.

calm down.

Since the other party did not kill me immediately, it means that I am safe...at least for now, he still needs me alive; although it is not clear how he avoided the sight of himself, the entire storm group, and more than a dozen judges. Appear behind yourself...

Wait, maybe he didn't hide.

Anson suddenly remembered Sera Vigil with scarlet eyes when Bloen appeared; she seemed to be restrained all over and being strangled by the throat, hesitating and trying to say something to herself.

Maybe she wasn't being controlled by Bloun?

Maybe she wanted to remind herself?

Maybe, it was because she saw Mace Honnard...

Just...stand behind yourself?

"call--!"

Anson took a deep breath and raised his head suddenly, forcing himself to look calmly at the black mage who was still sitting opposite, with a forced smile on his lips:

"Professor, before you forgive me, could you explain a few questions to me?"

"sure."

Gently lowering his right hand, Mace Honnard's eyes never left Anson's body: "You are my favorite student, and I am always happy to answer all the questions you raise."

"Why?"

"Why...I don't understand?"

"Why am I your favorite student and not Blown?" Anson asked softly, involuntarily glancing at the ice-blue eyes that rolled down to his feet:

"He is the person closest to you and has done a lot for you, but you just watched me kill him, and then said, 'I am your favorite student,' and calmly forgave me for betraying you. thing."

"So now I'm scared that if I give you the box, I'll end up like Brone."

After the words fell, Mace Honnard showed a sudden smile on his face.

"So that's what happened. I didn't explain it clearly, so you thought too much." Black Mage shook his head:

"Dear Anson, please accept my apology."

"This matter is very simple. Blown is the person I trust the most, and you are my most promising student. Your status in my heart is equally important. My attitude towards you is very sincere; I am also very willing to As a mentor, I will provide you with all the help I can and become my right-hand man."

"But...haha...to be honest, I don't really care about your life or death."

Mace Honnard's expression was as gentle as ever.

Ansen's heart thumped.

"Do you still remember our first 'real' meeting at Thunder Castle?" Mace Honard asked:

"The fact that you chose Cursing Magic at that time did surprise me a little, but it was just an accident; even if you chose the other two, things wouldn't have changed much - except that I might have killed you right then. Just a little.”

"Of course, you still gave me a lot of surprises; the Battle of Thunder Castle, joining the Church of Order, destroying the conspiracy of the Guards... As I said, I have never denied your credit, you did it perfectly .”

"So to you, I'm just a 'useful tool'." Anson looked at him:

"Is it right?"

The black mage smiled.

"Dear Anson, please allow me to answer this question using what you said to Bloen." Mace Honnard shrugged his shoulders and shook his head:

"From the moment we met, was there even a shred of 'trust' between you and me?"

"If I remember correctly, we didn't even meet and write to each other that many times...right?"

"Isn't it natural to use and betray each other?"

Anson, who gradually calmed down, said nothing and his expression became calmer.

"As for Bloen...he is a little different from you, and he is the person I trust the most." Mace Hornard nodded lightly and said:

"It is precisely because of years of trust and contact again and again that he knows too many things, so that he gradually begins to have undue ambitions and tries to understand some things that he should not know in the first place."

"But in the final analysis, you don't actually understand what it means to be a 'spellcaster' and the original ring."

"The three old gods, what does their existence and fall mean to the true believers of the old gods."

"So you just stood aside and watched me kill him?"

Anson tightened his heartstrings and watched every move of the black mage: "Because you don't care about our life and death, it doesn't matter whether you care or not."

The gentle Mace Hornard tilted his head slightly to one shoulder and kept smiling without saying a word.

That expression, as if he was watching a gorgeous drama, made Anson's scalp tingle.

Yes, he is deliberately delaying time now - since Laurence Bernat was safe when he came down, the rest of the inquisitors should still be alive, as long as they can detect something wrong below and do it in time maybe……

No, not possible.

I saw with my own eyes how Lawrence died. If even the most experienced inquisitor could be torn into pieces by a black mage in the blink of an eye, then it would be the same no matter how many times he died.

From the very beginning... I had no choice.

Desperately suppressing his trembling, Anson took out the mechanical box containing the "Big Magic Book" from behind and held it up with one hand with a stiff expression.

One step, two steps, three steps... approaching slowly.

The corners of Black Mage's mouth curved slightly, and he stretched out his right hand, waiting for what was about to happen.

Yes, he knew very well what his favorite student was thinking. He could clearly see the thoughts that flashed and disappeared one by one, or that he didn't even dare to think about for fear of being exposed.

Unlike Blown, although he is smart enough, Anson Bach is too young as a spellcaster, too unfamiliar with stealth skills and methods of fighting other spellcasters, and cannot even close his heart completely.

Mace Honnard saw the ideas and plans shattered one after another in Anson's mind, constantly looking for ways to escape from here.

But the chance of success was so slim that he could only give up in despair.

The gap in strength between the two sides is so huge, like a natural chasm, that there is almost no possibility of reversal, not even the slightest possibility of a turnaround.

Life and death are all in the palm of your hand.

It took a total of fifteen steps to walk from where he was to Mace Honnard. Anson, who looked normal, came up with thirty ways to escape in these short fifteen steps. The black mage took these thirty ways one by one. Resolve calmly.

No one spoke, and each other's smiles were reflected in the pupils facing each other, but sixty completely different battles ended in two consciousnesses that had no interaction at all.

The only thing that's the same is the ending.

Anson Bach, a disastrous failure without any doubt.

"Snapped."

Stopping in front of Mace Honnard, the smiling Anson took a deep breath and handed over the mechanical box:

"One of the twelve volumes of St. Isaac's Great Book of Magic. Dear Professor Mace Honnard, it is now yours."

"Dear Anson, I don't know how to express my gratitude to you."

The black mage, who was holding the brim of his hat, nodded slightly and took the mechanical box with his right hand wearing a white glove: "I forgive you."

"Not only do I forgive you for your previous betrayal and killing my most trusted Bronn, but also all your thoughts that shouldn't exist, I also forgive you."

Anson was startled for a moment, then showed a somewhat shy expression, quite like a student whose teacher had seen through his thoughts.

The moment he handed over the mechanical box, Anson, who bowed slightly, folded his right hand on the black mage's palm. Feeling the temperature coming through the gloves, he slowly lifted it up with four fingers, allowing the mechanical box to fall steadily into the black mage's hand. in hand.

It's not an illusion, the person sitting in front of him is the real black mage, Mace Honnard, who has become the "blasphemous mage"... the desperate Anson thought.

There is no way to win. Every move you make, including your thoughts, is under his watch and you cannot escape. On your own, no matter how hard you try, it will just be a futile struggle. No matter how much you think about it, there is no point. It will only make your death more ugly...

"boom!"

Just as the hands of the two separated, hot lead bullets surged out of the smoke with a loud noise, screaming and flying from behind Anson.

In an instant, Mace Hornard, who had not yet reacted, was still looking into Anson's eyes. On his smiling face, the pupils behind his monocle continued to shrink inward.

"puff!"

A sharp stinging sensation came, and the lead bullets passed through the center of the palms of the two men at the same time; the mechanical box that fell into the hands of the black mage flew into the air.

The black mage was suddenly startled, and his eyes quickly turned behind Anson, between the plasma and minced meat that covered the floor and walls.

On the wall full of blood and minced meat, a severed hand stuck to it stood up tenaciously. The "dagger" revolver clutched tightly in the hand was still smoking slightly from the muzzle.

This is? !

Mace Honnard's eyes flickered as his right hand was blown apart by a lead bullet. He immediately saw that Anson's blood-covered right hand had a silver-white dagger attached to it, and there was something attached to the tip that made him feel extremely disgusted. He was stabbing towards his neck.

His right hand was fine, but just now he clearly saw that the lead bullet came from...ah, I see...

The black mage with instant insight knew everything immediately: just when his right hand was about to be blown away, Anson had already used [Undead Mist] to turn the contact surface between his palm and the lead bullet into smoke.

This is an operation that can only be accomplished by the combination of the conjurer's sense of distance and his exquisite insight.

The moment the dagger struck, the silver-white blade missed the black mage's neck with less than an inch of deviation. Anson, with a smile on his face, did not hesitate at all and decisively threw the dagger above his head.

Sure enough... at the same time as he took action, the black mage had already read all his thoughts.

The dagger collided with the falling mechanical box, and sparks flew out, throwing the mechanical box towards the wall full of plasma and minced meat; another pale hand "stands up" from the blood on the floor and catches it steadily out of the box.

Anson, who missed the shot, decisively drew his gun. Before he even pulled the hammer, he saw the black mage raising his intact left hand and lightly snapping his fingers.

"boom!"

A sharp cracking sound instantly penetrated Anson's eardrums, and before he could even scream, he flew backwards as if he had been hit by a battering ram; the moment he landed, his entire field of vision turned blood red.

But the Black Mage did not pursue him. With a look of shock on his face, he dragged his punctured right hand and stood up from the chair. The delicate armchair disappeared without a trace in the air as if it had been erased by an eraser.

In his unbelievable sight, the minced meat on the ground seemed to be given life. Little by little, it gradually gathered in the blood on the ground. It aggregated... like a puzzle, pieced together in the dark red blood. A pale-faced figure wearing a three-cornered hat, holding a mechanical box in one hand and a gun in the other.

"Laurence Bernat?"

Mace Honnard murmured:

"So you discovered me from the beginning, but you always pretended not to; you even deliberately exposed your flaws in front of Bloen in order to cooperate with Anson Bach's 'resurrection from the dead' trick?"

"Amazing... I have to admit that you are the first judge who has deceived my eyes; the drama you put on top of each other is really exciting!"

"I will return these words to you intact, Mace Honnard...or His Excellency the Black Mage."

The expressionless Lawrence said coldly in his hoarse voice:

"After my 'Wild Hunt Knight Bloodline' was awakened, you were also the first spell caster who almost killed me."

"We're even!"