Chapter 1533 The Inevitable Conclusion <TOC> Chapter 1535 The Boy Who Reads
Next page password is bold portion: p69_Wa0l#ASt
Translator: SumTLMan
Spivey somersaults in mid-air, narrowly dodging a dense formation of thorny brambles.
Upon landing, his shoulders heave in rapid succession as he gulps down air. His palms are slick with perspiration, and his once well-fitted clothes now bear several gash marks, rendering them somewhat tattered.
The jester’s mask remains affixed to his face, but the sardonic grin outlined by the jester’s crimson lips no longer appears to mock Dominico; instead, it seems to be ridiculing his own beleaguered state.
Dominico grants Spivey no respite. With a casual yank, he pulls a rose vine that was anchored in the ground. Amidst a flickering mirage of illusions, the vine metamorphoses back into a slender rose-hued sword.
With a flick of the slender sword, he holds it vertically — positioned precisely between his eyes. The blade’s reflected radiance outlines his chiseled features.
Dominico stands elegantly with his sword, amidst a celestial downpour of rose petals, resembling nothing less than a devout aristocratic knight.
In the ensuing stillness comes extreme movement.
With a surge of energy, Dominico initiates a veritable Spring Waltz!
The tip of the sword glides through the air like an elegant waltz, and each swing brings not just a flurry of falling petals but also causes a profusion of thorny vines to sprout from the ground.
Under the camouflage of the velvety Needle Grass, these vines begin to grow fangs and dance menacingly.
Capitalizing on the terrain, Dominico steadily closes the gap.
Spivey does not counterattack, forced instead to retreat. When his energy is thoroughly depleted, Dominico seizes the opportunity and swings his sword in a decisive slash.
Like a beam of light, the blade lands squarely on Spivey’s face.
The sound of cracking resonates.
The jester’s mask split down the middle, dissolving into two halves amid a wisp of black mist.
Though Spivey quickly veiled his face with the dark mist, the audience still caught a glimpse of his true visage.
Dominico laughed ostentatiously, “Behind the enigmatic lies something that must be equally mysterious. I thought you were hiding something quite appealing behind that mask, but it’s clear you’re merely playing at being mysterious.”
“If your looks were even a fraction, no, a mere one percent as remarkable as mine, I’d understand the mask. But as it stands, masked or not, you’re still a jester.”
Dominico’s words were exaggerated, as was the reality he portrayed.
Is Spivey unattractive? Not at all.
Given what the audience knew of Dominico, it was likely he made this comment merely to accentuate his own attractiveness.
“Relying on petty tricks, do you think you can get by in the Novastar Competition?” Dominico’s sword tip pointed at Spivey’s throat. “It appears my opening remarks were accurate. This is a drama where your failure is already scripted. Surrender, or else…”
With a slight poke, a bead of blood appeared on Spivey’s throat, a palpable threat hanging in the air.
Spivey’s eyes darkened; his hands trembled inside his sleeves, not out of fear but out of a struggle with… restraint.
“It appears you’re quite stubborn. Here’s my final warning: in the common narratives, the stubborn ones are either the heroes or… the deceased.”
As Dominico spoke, he lifted his sword high, the resplendent roses on it now harboring a cold murderous intent.
In Spivey’s Mental Space, a familiar trick, a dramatic ploy he knew all too well, had already formed. Unleashing it could instantly turn the tables.
However, if he did, there was a chance that Kemone would catch on.
In his heart, Spivey wrestled with the dilemma of whether to use the spell at his disposal or not.
As Dominico’s rapier was about to descend, Spivey sighed, bowed his head, and dissolved the dark mist surrounding his frail body. “I concede,” he said.
As his words fell, the sword swung down by Dominico transformed into a shower of scattered roses.
“That’s more like it,” Dominico delicately picked up a rose and elegantly sniffed it before nonchalantly handing it to Spivey. “This rose is the hope offered by the victor to the vanquished. Of course, it could also signify despair.”
With a chuckle, Dominico turned and walked towards the now open door.
The screen displayed the result of the first match.
The Spring Waltz, victorious!
…
This match didn’t quite reach the level of intensity that the organizers had hoped for. Fortunately, the Spring Waltz fully showcased the aesthetics of combat during the competition, lavishing petals like money was no object, eliciting screams from their adoring fans in the audience.
At least, from a visual standpoint, the match barely met the baseline expectations for the Novastar Competition.
“The Deceiver has impressive battle awareness and relatively extensive combat experience. However, his tactics were too feeble, ultimately leading to his defeat,” Farina turned to Angel and said, “You were right; the victor is the Spring Waltz.”
Angel, however, was focusing on something in the distance where Kemone and Hydra were murmuring about something.
Farina asked, “What are you looking at?”
Angel turned back and offered a faint smile, “I just think that among all the special guest judges, Kemone is probably the most earnest.”
Farina paused briefly before nodding with a smile, “Indeed, ever since the competition started, he’s been quite committed. I even feel like suggesting to Rosen that he should be directly added to the permanent panel of judges.”
After saying this, Farina stood up. “Since the competition is over, shall we go take a look?”
Angel nodded. He too was curious to hear what Kemone was talking about, and whether he had discerned any underlying patterns.
Though they were still suspended in mid-air, it made no difference to them compared to being on solid ground.
As they approached Kemone, his conversation with Hydra came to a halt. While Farina hadn’t heard everything, she caught a few key phrases that seemed to be related to the competition and couldn’t help but inquire, “Were you discussing this competition?”
Kemone nodded, “Yes, I can’t shake the feeling that this trickster is deliberately hiding his true skills. So, I wanted to consult with the Observer.”
Hiding skills? Farina hadn’t really paid close attention to the competition. She only watched the beginning and the end, spending the rest of the time contemplating alchemy issues. She hadn’t noticed any indication of someone holding back.
Farina asked, “What is the Observer’s opinion on this?”
The central head of Hydra’s three turned towards Angel.
Just as Angel was wondering why Hydra was looking at him, he saw the creature’s tightly closed eyes slowly open.
Hydra’s Serpent Eyes opened, cold as ice, evoking the gaze of a venomous snake, in harmony with the serpent scales that covered his body.
His vertical pupils seemed to possess the ability to pierce through facades. When Hydra fixed his gaze upon him, Angel felt as if all the secrets within him were laid bare.
Frowning, Angel’s right eye flashed with a green light, and an enigmatic green rune immediately encircled him.
Green Rune: Domain!
Using the power of domain, Angel effectively concealed all of the leaking aura surrounding him.
The unsettling feeling of being watched finally disappeared.
Angel coldly stared at Hydra, saying, “Observer, what are you implying?”
Hydra looked at Angel with surprise, focusing on the faint green runes that appeared around him. For the first time, his eye talent was obstructed.
“What kind of spell are these green runes? Why have I never seen it before?”
Hydra: “I apologize; I can’t control my eyes. They only cease their probing power when closed.”
Although Angel was unsure about the nature of Hydra’s eyes, he could tell the man was not lying. But if he could not control it, why would he suddenly open his eyes?
Hydra continued, “Regarding the question about the Water Ripple Witch, I can’t provide an immediate answer. However, the Serpent of the Tree informed me that the person standing in front of me knows the answer.”
The Serpent of the Tree, like the River of Destiny, Wheel of Time, and Strings of the World, is part of a prophetic faith tradition, albeit a special and minor one rather than a mainstream belief.
Angel: “The person in front of you, you’re referring to me?”
Hydra nodded: “Yes.”
The reason given was far-fetched, but it wasn’t a lie. And Angel didn’t feel truly offended; he chose not to press the matter further.
“Does the Observer think Wizard Pat knows?” Perhaps sensing the awkward atmosphere, Farina casually picked up the conversation, smoothing over the tense ambiance.
Hydra nodded: “Whether or not Wizard Pat is hiding his true abilities, he will know for certain.”
Hydra intentionally paused for an extended period before continuing: “After all, the Deceiver is also part of the Savage Grottoes.”
Angel sensed that Hydra’s first statement carried an implicit meaning, and the latter could very well not be his true thoughts.
A notion flashed through Angel’s mind. Kemone might not have noticed, but it seemed Hydra had picked up on something subtle.
After hearing what Hydra had to say, Kemone looked curiously at Angel and asked with a somewhat eager tone, “What do you think, Wizard Pat?”
“Whether one is concealing one’s skills or not shouldn’t matter, right? The end result is already decided,” Angel averted his gaze. “Even if one is hiding one’s talents, so what? Isn’t that a tactic in certain situations?”
Kemone nodded, “True, but something still feels off. How can the Deceiver have such advanced combat awareness and rich battle experience, but lack the corresponding power? That clearly doesn’t add up.”
Just then, Farina spoke up, “Maybe there’s some unspoken circumstance?”
All eyes converged on Farina, awaiting her next words.
After a moment of contemplation, Farina offered an unexpected answer, “Perhaps, he’s actually a fan of the Spring Waltz? And can’t bring himself to harm him?”
Angel: “…”
Kemone chuckled awkwardly, “Maybe so?”
Farina: “Regardless of what the answer is, why is Old Night Wizard so concerned about the Deceiver?”
Angel’s ears perked up.
Kemone: “I’m not particularly concerned. Actually, Miss Melanctha asked me to assess this… speaking of which, she also wanted me to ask for your opinions. Since you’re both here, why not share your thoughts?”
Melanctha? Our opinions?
Angel looked at Farina beside him with questioning eyes. Farina shrugged to indicate she was also in the dark.
“Melanctha should be in the judging room. How about we go there directly and ask?” suggested Farina.
Chapter 1533 The Inevitable Conclusion <TOC> Chapter 1535 The Boy Who Reads