Chapter 62: Clarice's Anger (2)
Silence descended upon the smoking ruins of the music room. The air was thick with the metallic scent of ozone and the acrid smell of burnt magic. Lucian stood over the immobilized form of the Deputy Professor, his chest rising and falling in calm, measured breaths. He looked at Clarice's broken body—a testament to his devastating physical speed and power—and spoke the final word of judgment.
"As I said, Professor, after all, I am the Strongest."
Lucian didn't wait for a response. He looked away, his mission accomplished. He needed to catch up with Marice and Christopher to ensure they were safely hidden before the Headmaster arrived. He knew that even if he had crippled her, a mage of Clarice's caliber would have protective artifacts and, more importantly, immense political backing. The fighting needed to end now.
He took one step away, then a second.
Then he heard it—a faint, almost imperceptible rattle of stone against stone, a sound that spoke of movement where there should have been only stillness.
Lucian instantly stopped and looked back.
To his utter astonishment, Clarice finally got up from the ground. She wasn't crawling; she was standing. Her uniform was torn and smoking, but she was slowly, defiantly rising to her feet, her face still a mask of pain and humiliation, but now fueled by a deeper, more maniacal resolve.
"You—you damn brat! Do you think that damn kick is enough to kill me?" Clarice spat out, her voice raw but steady.
Lucian watched with professional interest as a soft, emerald-green light began to emanate from her body. She had just cast an incredibly high-tier, specialized healing and regeneration spell. The light intensified, and Lucian could literally see the broken bones—the crushed ribs and the fractured spinal vertebrae—knitting themselves back together at an impossible speed. Her injuries and her fractured bones were fully healed within seconds. She was whole again.
'A high-grade, instant-cast regenerative spell... and she still has the mana to use it after that outburst? She's far more dangerous than I thought,' Lucian thought, narrowing his eyes.
Clarice straightened her back, her posture impeccable despite the trauma she had just endured. Her breathing was still heavy, but her magical core was already stabilized.
"This is far from over!" Clarice declared. She wasn't just defending herself; she was retaliating with calculated, icy fury.
She immediately summoned a 6th-tier Shield, an iridescent bubble of defensive light that encircled her, protecting her from any sudden physical attacks. Behind the safety of the barrier, she began to cast her most destructive spell once more: a 7th-tier Destruction Spell, but this time, a blinding, focused Lightning Bolt.
"Take this, you damn brat!!" she roared, shooting the bolt of pure, electrical destruction at Lucian.
BOOM!
The Lightning Bolt missed Lucian. But only barely. He had dodged it with the same supernatural speed he had used to attack her, moving a mere centimeter out of the bolt's path, but the sheer force of the spell's wake still singed his hair and clothing.
Lucian landed a few meters away, his gaze fixed on the smoking, cracked stone where the Lightning Bolt had struck. He realized the terrifying reality of his predicament.
'Damn it,' Lucian thought, feeling a thin line of sweat tracing down his temple. 'If it weren't for the Wraith King amplifying my mana arts and giving me that initial boost of knowledge and physical strength, I would be dead already. And now this… this combination of instantaneous healing and high-tier offensive spells would kill me too if I didn't dodge that with every fiber of my being.'
Lucian was operating on borrowed power and a restricted skillset. He was a Demon God in a weak, human body that was currently only rated as 5th-tier. Fighting a 7th-tier mage who could instantly heal any damage was like fighting a regenerating boss monster with low-level gear. It was a battle of attrition he was destined to lose.
As he realized this, Clarice didn't give him a moment to rest. She followed up the Lightning Bolt with a wave of less-powerful but incredibly quick spells.
Lucian raised his saber and deflected a barrage of 5th-tier Stone Cannons, the chunks of rock chipping the edges of his mana blade. Then, Clarice proceeded to rapidly cast three simultaneous 5th-tier Flame Bolts, which Lucian had to twist and move to easily dodge the first two and deflect the third with a quick turn of his saber.
"Hah… hah… hah…" Lucian was panting heavily now, the simple movements draining the limited stamina of his human body. He looked at Professor Clarice, who was breathing heavily but was completely unharmed inside her shield, already beginning to cast another spell.
'I severely underestimated her,' Lucian thought, the realization stinging his pride. 'Her healing abilities and regeneration spells are on the same absurd level as that Tang Clan member I fought in my past life as Seonin. That damn bitch, Tang Soso, really did nearly kill me before. If it weren't because of my master, The Fourth Heavenly Demon God of the Heavenly Demonic Divine Cult, Cheon Mugyung, I would be dead entirely. Clarice is basically a miniaturized version of Soso—high attack, unbreakable defense, and insane healing.'
Clarice then cast another series of Stone Cannons, forcing Lucian to dive and roll. Lucian was already visibly tired of deflecting and dodging her relentless, coordinated spells.
The voice of the Wraith King, the ancient entity bound to the black bracelet Lucian wore, suddenly echoed directly in his mind, sharp and urgent.
{My lord, if you drag this longer, both your mana and your physical stamina will be depleted, and eventually, you will lose to her. She is a true master of attrition warfare.}
'I know, I know,' Lucian mentally replied, dodging another volley. 'But I'm thinking about what should I use. My Hybrid Blade Demonic Arts are too much, and my human skills are too little.'
The Wraith King, clearly panicked, suggested the unthinkable—an absurd and dangerous suggestion.
{How about you use your Heavenly Demonic Divine Art, my lord? A single burst of the Nine Heavens Demonic Pulse would cripple her and hide your true power effectively!}
Lucian's thought reply was immediate and stressed. 'What?! You know if I use that, they will instantly accuse me as a demonic human or an evil cult member! It's the single most recognizable forbidden art in this empire! And worse, that will instantly disrupt my entire plan to kill the Emperor's brother! The last thing I need is the entire Holy Church trying to exorcise me!'
{Then what should you do, my lord? You are running out of options! She's about to cast another spell!}
Lucian's eyes, fixed on the enraged Clarice, sparked with a dangerous idea—a compromise that allowed him to use immense power without revealing the signature mana signature of the Heavenly Demonic Divine Cult.
'How about I borrow one of your abilities?'
{What?!} The Wraith King's voice was filled with shock.
'I mean, possess my body and use your powers to defeat her. A Wraith King's power is unique, cold, and utterly terrifying, but it doesn't carry the political baggage of the Evil God Cult. We can pass it off as an ultra-rare, inherited Blackstar family ability.'
The Wraith King, recognizing the necessity and the sheer audacity of the plan, agreed without hesitation. {All right, my lord, but don't blame me after you got possessed! You will feel a cold breeze, and your body will momentarily feel foreign!}
'There's no need to worry. I already have experience on getting possessed with a strong entity, haven't I?' Lucian retorted wryly, referencing a strange and painful period in his second life.
{You mean locked up by your lovers on your second life in a magical, temporary prison that inhibited all your senses for three years?} the Wraith King deadpanned.
'Yeah,' Lucian confirmed, readying himself. 'That one.'
The banter was cut short by Clarice's desperate, furious shout.
"Lucian!!!"
Clarice then cast another Flame Bolt, but this time, it was a spell of insane magnitude. She used her 7th-tier reserves to simultaneously manifest over a thousand individual Flame Bolts, each capable of punching a hole through concrete, all converging into a single, massive, inescapable torrent of fire aimed at Lucian.
Instead of being shocked by the thousand-spell attack he saw, Lucian was ready to face it. His tired, battered body stood still, centering itself for the transformation.
'You ready, Wraith King?'
{Yes! Now, my lord!}
The Wraith King began to possess Lucian's body. A visible shockwave of ice-cold energy radiated from the black bracelet and engulfed Lucian. The cold, chilling mana of the Wraith King, the power of a sentient specter of death and shadows, flooded Lucian's vessels, momentarily overriding his own consciousness and will.
Clarice didn't notice the change. She simply saw the arrogant brat standing still, and she took that as submission. She shot all thousand Flame Bolts toward Lucian.
"DIE!!!!" she screamed in absolute, vengeful satisfaction.
BOOOM!
The massive confluence of flame bolts hit dead center, creating an explosion so vast and hot that it eclipsed the previous 7th-tier spell.
Clarice then looked into the smoke. She knew that even that attack couldn't kill Lucian; she finally had to admit that even though he was arrogant, he was strong. But she knew that a thousand flame bolts hitting him directly would make him fall—if not dead, then at least incapacitated. She had finally won the battle of attrition.
'Finally! Hah, hah! I could catch up to those two and kill that damn brat Christopher before he can taint my sister's pure heart!'
Then, a figure appeared in the ashes and the rising smoke of the area. It was Lucian, but he was different. The cold presence Clarice had felt earlier, the aura of a Demon King, was back, magnified tenfold.
"If you think that could make me fall?" The voice was Lucian's, but colder, deeper, and completely devoid of any human emotion.
"You are wrong."
Clarice's blood ran cold. She looked on Lucian. His upper shirt and his coat were torn and tattered off from the magical blast, revealing the body of an absolute warrior. But he could still stand.
She was shocked. 'How! How could this be possible?! A student like him should have been reduced to ashes! Just how can a student be this durable?!'
The Wraith King, speaking through Lucian's lips, smirked—a terrifying, chilling curve of the mouth.
"Shocked, aren't ya, Professor?"
Lucian's (now the Wraith King's) upper body was covered in bruises and scars from the earlier beatings, but Clarice could now clearly see the physical reality of the body she was fighting. The cold entity within realized the absurdity of the situation.
'Damn! My lord's body is full of muscles and abs! If I was a girl, I would date you, my lord! Truly a magnificent vessel! Too bad I'm just a disembodied voice in a bracelet!' the Wraith King thought internally, completely distracted by the physique.
Lucian, the true consciousness trapped inside the bracelet, was disgusted.
{Please don't be a gayass, Wraith King. You are just embarrassing yourself. This is an important fight, you old specter!}
The Wraith King immediately apologized internally. 'So sorry, my lord! I'm so sorry! The human form is just… impressive!'
Lucian sighed. {It's alright. Let's just finish this, before someone more powerful arrives.}
Lucian (the Wraith King) looked at Clarice, and the smirk vanished, replaced by a deadly seriousness.
"Let's finish this."
The silver saber Lucian held immediately began to engulf in a pale, vibrant, green-like hue of mana and aura. This was the chilling, specter-like power of the Wraith King—the color of necromancy and absolute frost. Clarice was shocked because this was the first time she had seen Lucian use an aura like this on a saber; it was not fire, not light, and not earth—it was the color of death.
Lucian then continued to speak, his eyes now glowing with an eerie, predatory green light that was not his own.
"Professor. Prepare to face a level of power you cannot possibly comprehend."