The five from the deserted island saw Adam too, and all of them except Cristel were astonished that Adam could be walking along beside an instructor.
Ophelia had already been taken into the body-refining instructor's laboratory for her outstanding aptitude in body refining.
The practice of body refining came with immense pain, and that path of Magehood required experiments that challenged every decent notion a person had—swallowing the tissue of all kinds of magical beasts, dissecting the bodies of every sort of living thing in search of superior genes, humans included.
Because of it she seemed colder than ever, and what occasionally surfaced in her eyes was deep exhaustion and doubt about herself. She had not paid attention to these companions for a long time, so naturally she had no attention to spare for Adam.
"What's with him?" Ophelia asked, puzzled.
William said nothing. He was a man who knew how to work every angle; though his status kept the others from acknowledging or accepting him, he was not as rejected as the rest of them. He had a rough idea of Adam's situation—he simply hadn't expected Adam to have come this far.
Quentin was all contempt and envy, and he said in a sour, needling tone, "Hah, and I thought he was so proud. Turns out he's nothing special. I suppose he played the clown until he wriggled his way up next to an instructor."
Hearing that, Cristel swallowed the explanation on the tip of her tongue, disappointed yet again by the stupidity of these "companions." They had no idea how vast the gulf was between themselves and the person they despised.
It was probably because apprentice Mages and Mages tempered by the years would only speak as equals to those they considered their equals: Elliot, all smiles toward Adam, seemed cold and unapproachable when facing other apprentices. Elliot and Adam barged their way to another part of the dueling platform, where the senior apprentices who had survived the tower war were gathered. Most of them knew Adam.
After they had greeted one another, Elliot said, "A greenhorn duel, and you all showed up anyway—to watch them stand there building rune groups?" Elliot applied his new learning on the spot, using Adam's words to needle everybody else.
The senior apprentices pictured it, and their interest faded on the spot. One of them, probably a close acquaintance of Elliot's, pointed at him and cursed him with a laugh: "You smell offensive enough, and now your mouth's turned offensive too."
Someone shook his head, unconcerned. "The academy's been far too dead lately. A bit of excitement is rare."
"True. Too many old friends are gone. I wonder how many of these greenhorns will be left."
Adam took no part in their conversation. He was scanning the crowd for James, and as expected, he did not find him; no doubt James was in no mood to join this sort of excitement. Adam looked down at the noisy crowd and felt his interest drain away. "What a waste of time." Then he simply slipped quietly out of the dueling ground.
Elliot glanced at Adam without minding it and turned back to talk with the others. He did not think much of what Adam was doing now—how could Adam succeed in such a short time at something James had spent decades failing to do?
Suddenly the dueling ground fell silent. Sean and Randy each stepped forward, and without a word of nonsense both raised their hands and triggered the magic items in their grips. Two spells took shape in an instant, crashed violently against each other in the air, and then dissolved into nothing at the same moment.
The magic items in apprentices' hands could not be very advanced; though the spells inscribed on them differed, by the power index Mage Blake had demonstrated, they all sat at the same level. What tested the apprentices here was the accuracy of their magic.
The two of them were doing fairly well on that count: two spells in a row struck precisely at the intended spots, and neither had gained the upper hand.
On the senior apprentices' side, attention had already drifted off the two of them, because it was simply too boring—the pair had not even shifted their stances.
Sean grinned savagely at Randy. "Hillbilly, how many magic items do you have left?" Sean was full of confidence. He had not only successfully constructed a second spell; his friends in the organization had lent him five magic items. From what he had gathered, the broke bastards from the deserted island could never be that rich.
Randy's face was ugly. He had one magic item left, inscribed with Flight—his final life-saving trump card, and one he could not afford to use yet.
Damn it! Cursing inwardly, Randy bolted to one side.
Sean was overjoyed; he knew Randy was finished, and now he only had to press the advantage to blast this idiot to bits. Without hesitation, Sean triggered his three remaining magic items: two fireballs and a wind blade sealed off every route by which Randy might escape.
"Die! Die!" Seeing Randy about to die at his hands, Sean's face wore a sick ecstasy, and that feeling held him spellbound.
At the brink of life and death, Randy halted, drove one foot hard into the ground, and a spike of earth shot up in an instant. The spells struck the spike with a dull thud. Hidden behind the wall of earth, Randy let out a breath—this round, at least, had passed.
Sean was dumbfounded; he had not expected Randy to be able to use Earth Spike like that. "Idiot, you think that cancels them out?"
Earth magic had the best defense among low-level magics, but it was not without limits. After it barely held off two fireballs, the wind blade broke through the Earth Spike. Randy panicked and flung himself desperately to one side, but the wind blade grazed his arm and effortlessly sliced away a small part of his side.
"Aah!" Randy howled in agony, blood gushing from the wound; the violent pain stripped him of any ability to resist.
Below, some of the native apprentices turned their eyes away, unable to watch. Others were shouting for the useless piece of trash to be killed. Sean laughed wildly: "Trash! Trash! Die!"
The deserted island apprentices' faces changed drastically, and they ran at top speed toward the dueling platform—whatever happened, they could not stand by and watch a companion die before their eyes.
Sean's companions blocked them with savage grins. "Hillbillies, don't you even know the rules?"
Quentin roared, "This isn't fair!"
One of them looked at them as though they were idiots, then said, "Fair? Haha! You really are adorable. On the dueling ground, life and death are nobody's concern. If you want to avenge that piece of trash, why not challenge me to a duel?"
William looked at him. "Howard, do me a favor and spare Randy's life. I doubt the academy wants something like this to happen either."
Howard glanced at William with contempt and said to his companions, "Listen to this. What did I just hear? They want me to give them face. Hahaha. A pack of hillbillies—as if you deserve it!?"
William's face went red and pale by turns. He had not expected such an insult, but Randy's life hung by a thread, so he could only swallow the humiliation and commit it to memory. Turning, he shouted to the senior apprentices, "Senior apprentices, are you really going to stand there and watch Randy die?"
The senior apprentices looked at him with amusement, and then a cold voice came: "What do you think a duel is? A friendly game?"
On the platform, seeing that William and the others had been blocked, Sean relaxed and walked toward Randy, who was rolling on the ground. He would humiliate this idiot thoroughly before he killed him.
"Look—no one can save you. You are bound to die at the hands of the great Sean, and that is the price for daring to challenge the great Sean. Don't worry, your companions will come down one by one to keep you company. Hillbillies all deserve to die. Just thinking that I'm breathing the same air as you makes me sick!"
Watching Sean draw closer and closer, Randy's eyes held a hatred carved into the bone. He let go of the hand clamped over his wound and roared, "Die!" He used his last fireball, wanting to send Sean down to hell.
Sean triggered Water Screen and said, "You think I didn't know you had one more spell? Be a good boy and die."
Randy despaired. He activated his final magic item and staggered into the air; having lost his arm and drained his spirit, he could not even keep his balance.
Hope appeared on the deserted island apprentices' faces—perhaps Randy might survive after all.
Sean gathered a fireball in front of himself and said mockingly, "A pathetic show. Goodbye, trash." With a boom, Randy was blown apart in midair, and he fell to the ground—and into the hearts of the deserted island apprentices.
The duel took long to describe but was over in a flash—so fast that before Adam had even made it back to the dormitory, a stream of excited apprentices had already passed him by. Having witnessed the power of magic and of death, they were worked up to an abnormal fever pitch.
Adam was neither surprised nor concerned by Randy's death, but that clinging ghost Elliot caught up to him and patted his shoulder. "That curse affinity apprentice is dead."
"Oh."
"Tsk, tsk. So cold. Don't you care at all?" Elliot clicked his tongue.
"Don't you care at all!? A companion's death?" A voice full of grief and fury rang out. Adam looked up and found it was Quentin speaking; the rest of the deserted island group were watching him with sorrow and anger.
"We come from the same place—shouldn't we be sticking together? This time it was Randy who died. Next time it could be you! They want to kill all of us—all of us, including you!" Quentin said, agitated.
Adam did not even break stride; he kept walking toward the dormitory.
William hurried a few steps and blocked his way. "Adam, come back. We need to stick together. We need you."
Elliot folded his arms and stepped off to the side, watching the scene with interest. He wanted to know how this new young friend of his would face an accusation like this.
"Heh." Adam laughed without a shred of feeling.
"What kind of attitude is that? Do you look down on us?"
"Yes. I do look down on you. Living in this world, everyone's life belongs to themselves. You can live like an idiot, but don't do idiotic things—otherwise, if you lose your life, you have only yourself to blame," Adam said coldly.
Quentin's eyes nearly split with fury; he was beside himself with rage. He swung his fist, rationality gone, wanting to teach Adam a lesson.