Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

And just as the ray was about to pierce the barrier, she brought her hands together and slowly drew forth a brand-new longsword.

The hilt engraved with golden flames, the pure white and sacred blade, the sharp and flawless edge; as it appeared, Seraphiel began to chant an ancient song. It was the Song of Great Deeds from the Third Age, when angels descended to the world and led people to battle the Chaos Phantoms that swept across the world.

"When shadows of sin rose upon the land, three lights shone down from the sky.

That light, like living beings, made sounds.

The sounds were like singing and also like praying, and then, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-six winged messengers descended to the world."

With every line she recited, the flames on her body and the longsword in her hand surged, until at last, she was enveloped in a fierce, blinding white fire, so brilliant that the heat scorched the entire arena, causing the sweat of the spectators behind the protective shield to pour down their backs.

"This is not the power of a Sequence 5, even many Sequence 6 couldn't achieve this," remarked someone in the audience below.

Facing an opponent like a descended angel, Tringle felt helpless as not only his clothes began to smoke but also the Aijeika particles in the surrounding air became scorching hot, gradually transforming into the pure burning magic power of the Radiant Feather Sequence.

The terrifying might of an angel was still the same, no wonder they could protect the frail earth civilization, surviving in the onslaught of the sweeping Chaos.

"I surrender," he announced without further meaningless struggle and decisively admitted defeat.

Thus, the flames on the field slowly cooled, Seraphiel returned to her normal state, she gave Tringle a slight nod, bent down in a bow, then pulled her hood back over her head and returned to the Edith Academy's prep area.

"What a noble and polite person," the losing side had nothing to complain about, as the opponent had indeed prevailed with genuine skill and overwhelming strength.

It was now time for the third match, and after two defeats, the morale was somewhat low on the Edith Academy's side, the previously lively prep hall had also grown somewhat quiet.

"Let me go," said a black-haired, robust young man as he stood up and walked over to the black-haired girl sitting in the middle chair. He was none other than Weston Trey, who had sought Tilan's guidance half a month ago.

Tilan looked at the young man before her; his dark eyes blazed with fighting spirit, as if his entire being was eager and impatient to take on the challenge.

A rare kind of person, the girl thought, then nodded slightly.

Seeing Tilan's approval, he bowed with his fist clasped before he picked up his specially made lance and walked out, heading towards the brightly lit platform. Find more to read at My Virtual Library Empire

After witnessing the first two matches, the audience had already formed an impression—the members of the 'Death Rose Society' resembled ancient Necromancers, leaning towards spellcasting, with frail bodies, and here was a participant who, without a robe and showing robust muscles while wielding a lance, surprised everyone.

This type of student should have appeared at Thunder Edge Academy, right? Or was he also studying the Withering Sequence?

A sense of regret for wasted talent and the feeling that this child had taken the wrong path arose in many hearts, but soon, that notion was shattered.

"Begin the duel!"

As soon as the judge announced the start, the young man leapt out like dark lightning streaking through the sky, pouncing directly on the opponent's platform. His opponent had barely begun to lower her hood when she was attacked.

Her staff parried the incoming lance, and amidst the tearing sound, the white-gold trimmed robe was ripped apart, revealing the petite and panicked face underneath.

Compared to the formidable contenders from Lelisa Academy before, this girl seemed especially green and flustered. She was short, her features youthful, and she lacked much combat experience.

After Weston's surprise attack, she was in a flurry, narrowly dodging attacks, teetering on the brink of failure and serious injury, until a few seconds later, another thrust and slash knocked her staff away, leaving her empty-handed.

The sharp tip of the lance hovered past her cheek, stalling beside her slender white neck, the slight sting on her skin told the girl that if it weren't for her opponent's mercy, her head might have already flown.

"Sob..."

Finally, unable to hold back, the girl knelt to the ground and cried, and this third match, lasting less than a minute, came to an end.

"Victory goes to Edith Academy, Weston's student!"