Chapter 32: Domain of Death

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Domain of Death

Jeremy stepped down from the arena ring with a few bleeding scratches on his cheek, but his steady posture and calm amber eyes implicitly affirmed his decisive victory.

In the first half of the second round’s matches, the members of his team also sequentially entered combat. Phoenix - the guy who always shrank within his gloomy cloak - unfortunately encountered an opponent possessing a Holy Covenant that had reached the Novice seven-star realm.

Facing the absolute disparity in both rank and suppressive magic power, even though he tenaciously dragged out the combat time until exhaustion, he was still forced to accept defeat. The remaining three freaks, Lucius, Leon, and Evelyn, naturally passed the elimination round smoothly, expending almost no effort at all.

Time flashed by to the third competition day.

If two days ago, Jeremy still maintained a skeptical attitude regarding absurd coincidences always liking to gather at the same time, then the exact moment the magic ID board illuminated the name of his opponent in the third round, he completely believed in the irony of fate.

Amber Augusten.

Toward this arrogant Crown Prince, the only emotion existing in Jeremy’s dictionary was extreme disgust. It was not merely the residual resentment left over from the original owner’s tragic memory blocks, but also stemmed from his own contempt for that guy’s ragged moral character.

Recalling his previous life when he was reading that web novel, if he hadn’t been attracted by the unique Western Fantasy worldview system and fascinating magical structure, he would have thrown this series into the trash right from the early Chapters when Amber appeared.

Midway, there were countless times he wanted to turn off the screen and abandon it, but some invisible magnetic force continuously held back his patience, forcing him to read all the way to the destructive ending line. Now reflecting on it, that bizarre connecting thread from years ago was very likely the desperate call from the original owner’s soul, crossing dimensions to seek a replacement.

As the heir bearing the direct bloodline of the Sylvanor empire’s royal family, Amber naturally received the blessing to possess a Holy Covenant.

However, the Mark number he awakened hit the absolute bottom in the entire recorded history of generations of Crown Princes: Holy Covenant number 97.

While other princes and princesses belonging to the royal family naturally held Holy Covenants within the top 60, the disparity in magical potential between him and them was entirely an abyss. The reason someone possessing such mediocre talent as Amber could still firmly sit on the Eastern Palace Crown Prince’s seat, aside from the identity of the eldest son born to the late Empress, was that his biggest shield was his maternal family.

The Marquis Augusten - his maternal family - was dubbed the empire of money, holding the economic lifeblood and filthy rich resources of the entire continent. Even if the other princes possessed formidable talent, they were only sons of concubines; the background behind them completely lacked the weight to be placed on the scale with the Marquis’s mountains of gold and silver.

Under massive financial backing and covert political manipulation, Amber smoothly stepped onto the Crown Prince’s throne, nurturing an arrogant personality that viewed the sky as no bigger than a pot lid.

As soon as the match pairing list was announced on the magic screen, the entire St. Aetherwing academy grandstand suddenly erupted in boiling, buzzing gossip.

"Crown Prince Amber clashed against Jeremy Valmont again... What kind of sacrificial offering caused enemies on a narrow path to meet exactly at this time?"

"His Highness has currently stepped into the Novice six-star realm, and additionally possesses a high-tier Holy Covenant. What the hell can that dumped, useless trash use to defend himself?"

"That’s right, making a fuss in front of so many nobles on enrollment day, this time he is guaranteed to be humiliated and disgraced."

"Tsk, saying that is a bit premature. These past few days, the performance of that team at the bottom of the rankings has been bizarrely devilish."

"Stop talking nonsense! This time if His Highness doesn’t beat that arrogant Jeremy until he has to grovel on the ground, kowtow, and beg for mercy, then he would be considered excessively merciful!"

---

Below the grandstand was a flock of followers joining in the wild barking, while on the blinding marble arena ring, the leader of the arrogant peacocks - Amber - was also raising his chin, dropping words of sarcasm.

His face overflowed with disdain, fiery red magic power crackling beneath his fingers: "Jeremy, if you obediently kneel down, kowtow, and beg for mercy right now, I might consider going easy on you, preserving the last bit of face for the Duke mansion."

"Tsk." Jeremy tucked one hand into his suit trouser pocket, his other hand slightly raised to lightly spin the short blade’s hilt, his phoenix eyes narrowing to assess the opponent from top to bottom.

Facing this Crown Prince, he always developed a kind of troublesome, helpless feeling, exactly like trying to communicate with a non-human creature.

"Amber, did you think that just because you picked up a few human words, you are qualified to stand there crackling and barking in human language? If your skull truly doesn’t contain a brain, then please consciously crawl into a slaughterhouse pen to become ingredients quickly, what are you doing standing here obstructing others’ vision?"

To be fair, Amber’s physical features were not ugly at all. But his entire face always clearly exhibited that smug, arrogant attitude to the point of being disgusting, making anyone who looked at him only want to grab that proud forehead and smash it straight down onto the stone floor, grinding it until it was pulverized.

Naturally, that feeling of fear or endurance perhaps only existed in the original owner - the child who had once been trampled and cursed as a "jinx" years ago. Right from the first day of enrollment, Amber had to taste the ruthless sharpness of Jeremy’s tongue, but even up to this second, his arrogant ego still refused to accept the truth.

He could not endure the fact that a fiancé who had once always bowed in submission, obedient as a puppet letting him humiliate him, had now shed his skin to become an arrogant lone wolf, his gaze looking at him no differently than looking at a piece of trash beneath his shoe sole.

Furthermore, he had become significantly more vulgar, unruly, and venomous.

"You vulgar commoner!" Amber grew furious out of shame, his face darkening like the bottom of a pot, his fire magic power flaring up violently: "Has the Duke mansion’s entire etiquette and upbringing been eaten by dogs?"

He always opened his mouth to spout the words ’etiquette’ and ’upbringing,’ yet his own behavior was no different from an uneducated thug who liked to bark wildly. Jeremy lowered his eyes, the corner of his lips curling into a bland smile as sharp as a dagger: "Yeah, yeah, that’s right, it’s all been eaten by you."

Before the battle commenced, neither side had the spare energy to perform the impractical greeting rituals of the aristocracy. In an atmosphere choked with murderous intent, that formal procedure was completely crushed.

The exact moment the magic referee voiced the announcement starting the match, Jeremy immediately raised his intent. A string of golden runic incantations tore through the space in his palm; the natal Holy Artifact Maboroshi condensed in the blink of an eye into a pitch-black death scythe, tracing a freezing semi-circular path rushing straight forward. He no longer had half a second of patience to continue listening to this brat spew out garbage words.

Amber’s natal Holy Artifact form was a blazing longsword. He completely did not expect someone judged as trash to dare proactively launch an attack first, his stride speed as accurate and razor-sharp as a lightning bolt. Amber’s expression changed; he hurriedly channeled magic power, raising his sword horizontally across his line of sight to block the scythe plunging straight for his throat.

Clang!

The explosive sound of clashing metal erupted in the middle of the arena; the sound waves, rolling with the razor-sharp magic power, tore apart the surrounding air layer. Jeremy borrowed the rotational force of his abdominal muscles and shoulders, his tall, slender physique as agile as a phantom, his striking movements decisive, lacking even half a point of hesitation or retreat.

Amber twisted his body to dodge the sharp point, forcefully twisting his wrist; the blazing sword tip slid a long distance along the scythe’s alloy handle, sparking a dazzling chain of bright golden sparks threatening to burn the opponent’s flesh to ashes. The razor-sharp sword tip tore through the wind, pointing straight at Jeremy’s wrist; just advancing a few centimeters more would be enough to pierce through his chest.

Recognizing the opponent’s cunning intention, Jeremy smirked, smoothly using force to press the scythe handle straight down into the stone floor, simultaneously borrowing that exact massive rebounding force to swing himself, leaping into mid-air. The youth’s body executed a perfect rotation in mid-air, utilizing centrifugal force to trace a terrifyingly sharp, semi-circular blade aura, carrying overwhelming murderous intent plunging toward the top of Amber’s head.

"Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit!" Amber’s face, already pitch black with frustration, was now blocked from counterattacking by someone he had always considered trash, and was even forced to step back and fall into a disadvantageous position right before the eyes of thousands of students, causing the fury within him to explode to its peak. His voice roared, tinged with cold murderous intent: "Since you seek your own death, don’t blame me for being ruthless!"

Amber swung his arm; the explosive fire-attribute magic power shattered the incoming semi-circular blade light, simultaneously tilting his head back and roaring loudly: "Holy Sword of Ten Thousand Descents!"

As soon as Jeremy landed, his heels gliding lightly, he lifted his golden eyes to look at the arena’s sky. The blazing elemental magic power surrounding them was condensing frantically; countless light longswords carrying scorching temperatures densely formed in the void at breakneck speed.

Casting a skill yet having to roar the name out loud as if afraid the world wouldn’t know he was rushing and being hasty?

Jeremy silently clicked his tongue in his heart, completely lacking any interest in this immature habit of shouting slogans typical of the mages on this continent. But recalling the volume of knowledge in the ancient texts, he understood clearly: in this magical world, chanting or shouting the skill name aloud actually brought a stronger resonance power compared to silently chanting in one’s consciousness. That was the result of the impact from mental willpower and matrix laws.

Although this combat style somewhat carried the arrogant nature of chuunibyou teenagers, it wasn’t something unacceptable on a real battlefield.

If this arrogant brat Amber wanted to play an area-of-effect lightning game, then a pragmatic survivor like him didn’t mind matching moves to the bitter end, conveniently testing out the skill belonging to his second Spirit Covenant that he hadn’t had the chance to trigger in the previous match.

Jeremy lightly spun the scythe handle in his hands, his slender fingers clenching slightly. The pitch-black alloy blade tore through the air, tracing a twisted spatial rift. His lips curled up; his deep, cold voice calmly chanted a supreme judgment decree:

"Domain of Death, open."

Right after the final syllable dropped from the youth’s throat, the brilliant daylight on the arena was suddenly swallowed up, replaced by a pitch-black night, freezing to the bone.

Each ray of sunlight was distorted into shattered afterimages; all peripheral magic power was forced straight outside the barrier by an absolute force.

Pitch-black fissures, exactly like a dense spiderweb, cracked open from the sturdy marble floor beneath their feet. The eerie fog bearing a deep purple-black hue condensed and surged at a speed many times faster than Amber’s ten thousand blazing swords in the sky, which had not yet fully taken shape.

In just a brief blink of an eye, the sea of fog had transformed into a colossal spatial barrier, completely isolating and wrapping the entire arena within the silent world of the realm of the dead.

Inside the frantically spreading purple-black fog layer, from beneath the ground fissures, countless phantoms and grayish skeletons began to rumble as they emerged.

Some had only a battered skeletal frame wearing shattered iron armor; others had rotting bodies riddled with bloody holes.

Grotesque shapes of all kinds; empty eye sockets or blood-soaked pupils simultaneously flashed a brilliant deep red light, overflowing with primal malice and bloodthirstiness.

But at the moment inside this domain, they were absolutely no longer aimless wandering ghosts lingering in a gloomy forest, but had transformed into an absolutely loyal legion of death, silently awaiting the deployment order from their sole master.

Right at the moment the ten thousand fire swords from Amber’s ultimate skill descended like a meteor shower, Jeremy stood motionless in the epicenter of the fog, casually raising his hand; his thumb and middle finger lightly touched, creating a crisp snapping sound.

"Kill."

A simple word slipped out, but within the coverage of the Domain of Death, his will was the supreme law and order.

Tens of thousands of phantoms obeyed the judgment order, immediately transforming into a furious sea of demons surging into the high sky. If cut down by the fire swords, they would immediately resurrect from the sea of fog, dying and then resurrecting in an endless, infinite cycle.

The number of phantoms inside the entire domain not only did not diminish under the enemy’s bombardment, but on the contrary, increasingly multiplied at a terrifying exponential rate.