Internet Mage Professor

Nolan stood outside his villa in Silver Blade City, hands clasped behind his back as a shimmering plume of smoke coiled upward like a dark serpent into the sky.

Within that haze, a vivid image of the battlefield shimmered—a ghostly projection of distant chaos unfolding as countless threads of mana converged and clashed.

The salty scent of ocean spray drifted faintly across the marble terrace, stirring the hem of his dark coat. His sharp gaze followed the shadowy figure of Yxthul gliding through the waves toward them, yet a peculiar silence surrounded the fishman now.

Nolan’s brow arched slightly. That’s odd. Fallen from the tenth stage to the seventh—and strangely quiet. It wasn’t mere exhaustion; it felt as if some deeper, more sinister force had sapped him of his strength.

Is that how many students have been killed already? It seems he owes them this time.

Beside him, Lirazel toyed with a silken lock of her hair, eyes gleaming with mischief as she gazed into the smoky projection. "Looks like your fishy friend isn’t doing so well," she purred, lips curving into a wicked smile. "He’s more like a beached guppy at this rate. What happened to all that grand talk of crushing you?"

Nolan chuckled, the sound deep and dry. "Don’t be too harsh, Lirazel," he replied, voice laced with sarcasm. "Yxthul may be weakened, but he’s still a materialized Demon Spawn. That means he can hurt you in ways you wouldn’t enjoy—and let’s not forget you’re both cut from the same infernal cloth."

She gasped in mock offense, a claw-tipped hand pressed to her chest as if he’d mortally wounded her pride. "Oh, my dear Nolan," she cooed, eyes glimmering with amusement. "That’s precisely why I take such delight in mocking him. Demon blood or not, it doesn’t make him any less pathetic."

He tilted his chin toward the roiling ocean far beyond. "Pathetic or not, you ought to show him some respect. Even demons can sink their fangs into the careless."