The Staff of One drew a second and third glance from Bella. All she could say was respect—the world was full of wonders, and the talent of whoever crafted this thing was truly staggering.
Her respect was for the staff's creator, though—not for Tina Minoru, who stood there trembling and tongue-tied, terrified of uttering one word too many.
This was a sparring match, not a death fight. Words with enough punch to turn a losing battle around were obviously off the table, and words she'd already used had to be mentally cross-referenced first. By now, sweat was beading on her forehead.
Kaecilius had over twenty disciples; when the day came for him to defect, five of them would follow him out. Tina had disciples of her own, and right now one of them stood behind her scribbling furiously, logging every word her master used.
Bella nearly laughed out loud at the absurd scene—but it also proved just how brutal the staff really was. A human brain wasn't a search engine; keyword recall had its limits. The early days of wielding the Staff of One might be manageable, but as the list of forbidden words piled up—dozens, then hundreds—who could possibly keep up?
"Miss Bella, I believe you should put more force behind your attacks." The Ancient One seemed dissatisfied with her leisurely attack tempo.
Using these disciples to sharpen Bella while simultaneously using Bella to sharpen them—the Ancient One's game wasn't hard to figure out.
Bella snorted. A single illusion fooled Kaecilius mid-thrust; she sidestepped and appeared behind the arcane master, tapping his left shoulder like she was greeting an old friend.
"Hey, buddy. You should be dead."
Flat tone, casual delivery—like mentioning something not worth a second thought.
This was her new spell. Fourth-circle: Suggestion of Death.
Her ice-school spells had all been distilled from Calypso's psyche, but these suggestion spells—Suggestion of Paralysis, Suggestion of Madness, and now Suggestion of Death—were dirty tricks she'd developed entirely on her own.
The spell struck without a sound, yet Kaecilius reacted as if he'd been hit by lightning.
Countless visions flooded his sight. He nodded instinctively.
Yes—what was the point of struggling on? His son was dead. His wife was dead. The Ancient One refused to use the Eye of Agamotto to bring them back. Might as well go join them.
He reversed the invisible blade in his hand and drove it toward his own heart.
Tina, standing nearby, was horrified. What just happened? As the Ancient One's prized pupil, her reflexes were sharp—her right hand lashed out a golden magic whip that coiled tight around Kaecilius's wrist, stopping the blade inches from his chest.
What am I doing? Kaecilius froze, staring at Bella in shock.
"Mr. Kaecilius, your willpower still needs some tempering."
The smug, professorial tone infuriated the arcane master—but more than anger, he felt dread. What kind of spell was that?
Five more exchanges with both of them, and Bella kept them firmly suppressed. Then she landed a Suggestion of Paralysis on Tina—whose mental fortitude turned out to be even weaker than Kaecilius's. The sorceress staggered, barely managing to use the Staff of One to cast Iron Will on herself.
"Looks like you need serious willpower training too!"
Bella's suggestion spells worked wonders on ordinary people—killing without a trace—but against fellow casters, they fell a bit short. Tina layered Iron Will onto herself while Kaecilius, now on high alert, grew increasingly resistant.
Kaecilius had plenty of combat experience. He layered gravity across the entire Mirror Dimension to slow Bella down, then piled on zero-gravity, inversion, spatial displacement, and a whole mess of other distortions.
Bella had to admit: the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj had it good. Even she hadn't ventured into spatial magic yet, and these relative lightweights could already rewrite spatial rules within a localized area. That was the advantage of a proper lineage.
Kaecilius fired a golden whip that locked around Bella's left arm while he and Tina closed in from opposite sides.
Tina was also a Kamar-Taj disciple—Mirror Dimension manipulation, whips, shields—she knew the full suite.
Kamar-Taj had developed an integrated combat system based on the Sling Ring's underlying principles: offensive whips, defensive shields, and the Mirror Dimension that doubled as both a trap and an escape route. Generations of refinement had left this combination nearly flawless.
Bella couldn't crack the Mirror Dimension's secrets, so she forced the issue.
She raised a hand and fired a Mind Blast that knocked Kaecilius unconscious. Tina dodged out of range by a hair, but the residual shockwave left the spectating apprentices dizzy and reeling—a few of the frailer ones doubled over, gagging.
The Ancient One shook her head, expressionless.
"Master Hamir, would you spar with my new disciple?"
An old man with a topknot, missing his left hand, dressed like a Taoist priest, stepped forward.
"Master Daniel Drumm, your secret arts haven't been demonstrated in years. Why not give these young disciples a show?"
A monk in robes, staff in hand, vaulted into the arena.
"Mr. Lucian, you're up too."
"Miss Martial, go test that new spell you've been developing."
The Ancient One had an unmistakable the-more-the-merrier energy, goading one elite sorcerer after another into the fight.
At first, Bella was perfectly composed. Kaecilius? Tina? Children. How hard could it be for someone at her level to handle a couple of sixth-graders? But once the number of sorcerers ganging up on her broke into double digits, her expression darkened.
What the hell! She'd barely get two spells off before a dozen came flying back at her. She had no choice but to throw up a shield and wait for openings to counterattack—and even then, it was getting ugly.
Every time the pressure eased slightly, the Ancient One goaded another sorcerer into the fray. Bella was getting irritated.
Picking on the new girl, huh? Trying to put me in my place?
"Sakura!" she shouted.
The Divine Dragon poked its head out—the two had planned for this. It sprayed a fine mist in every direction.
Bella combined the Dragon's mist with the shattered ice and snow littering the battlefield, converting all of it into water. A surging, roaring wave launched her straight into the sky. Five meters (about 16 feet) up, she looked down at the mob of sorcerers below.
For once, she began to chant—hands weaving through intricate gestures. Within the churning water, the ghostly silhouette of an ancient three-masted galleon materialized: the Flying Dutchman. Only a phantom, but unmistakable.
Water and sky inverted. The torrent converged into a titanic fist of seawater, the ghost ship riding its crest. Bella's hands slammed downward, and the phantom Dutchman crashed toward the sorcerers below like a mountain falling from the heavens.