The perspective returns to the arena.
The mont Sophia flew out from the other gate, she instantly grasped the entire situation of the arena.
"Is it a mountainous map?"
The Angel Witch thought to herself.
However, the truth was that no matter what the map was, it didn’t really make a difference to her. As soone with the template of the Calamity Race, she could easily adapt to all terrains. No type of terrain could significantly affect an angel like her; her strength was already sufficient to disregard those geographical factors.
But in this duel, the witch possessing the template of the Calamity Race wasn’t just Sophia. Her opponent, the personal daughter of that teacher, was also one and was furthermore a Great Dragon from the sa source as the teacher.
The teacher’s strength was undeniable, an almost invincible power that had been etched in the heart of the Angel Witch since she was young. In her heart, the teacher was a being who could contend with the deities of legend. She had admired and aspired to be like her teacher ever since she was a child.
She wanted to beco the pride of her teacher.
This had been Sophia’s goal ever since that night ten years ago when she t her teacher.
And she had indeed achieved it. Under the careful cultivation of her teacher, she had played to her talent well. Even in the Dragon Kingdom, a place teeming with powerful individuals and geniuses, she, the foreign Angel Witch, managed to overshadow her peers and beca the brightest star among the dragon swarm.
However, the dragon swarm was particular about outsiders. The Dragon Witch with the template of a Great Dragon was the sa; an angel living among dragons was undoubtedly going to be ostracized. Over the years, Sophia had faced various forms of targeting, but she didn’t mind it much. What she cared about was her teacher’s opinion of her.
And the teacher was undoubtedly fair; the look she gave her did not contain the rejection present in those of her kin. All it held was admiration and expectation. Sophia could feel it; her teacher truly recognized her as a worthy disciple.
Yet, even so, there was one thing that troubled Sophia for many years: whenever she achieved sothing significant, the teacher would happily celebrate with her and then, afterward, would beco lancholic and spend ti alone.
That ti belonged solely to the teacher; even she, her most cherished disciple, could not seem to penetrate that space; there was no margin for intrusion.
Once, when Sophia got up to drink water in the middle of the night, she saw her teacher sitting alone on the dark living room sofa, smoking. The ashtray on the coffee table was filled with cigarette butts. Her arrival startled the teacher, who turned to look at her.
But Sophia could clearly feel that the reflection in the teacher’s pupil did not contain her image; instead, it conjured up the silhouette of another person.
Sophia knew who that silhouette was. After all, she had grown up by the teacher’s side and naturally heard that the teacher once had a daughter, who later disappeared.
Sophia was even aware of why she wasn’t eradicated along with her sinful family under the teacher’s wrath but was rcifully taken in instead. Probably because her age was similar to that of the teacher’s lost daughter, it just so happened to trigger the teacher’s compassion.
She probably had always been just a stand-in for that person; this was sothing Sophia understood more than clearly. She could accept that reality, or, to put it another way, she thought she could accept it.
She knew the teacher had never given up the search for that missing daughter over the years. The teacher’s tireless pursuit of power and expansion of territory were all just to garner more strength for the needle-in-a-haystack task, but when the teacher, who was usually indifferent, laughed and said to her, "Sophia, I have finally found that child, my daughter," just a few days ago.
Sophia, herself, felt sour.
Even though she knew such sourness was wrong and inappropriate, once she felt it, she could not control her emotions.
And so, with complex feelings, Sophia followed her teacher to this humble rural island. Before making a formal visit, the Angel Witch felt sowhat agitated inside, so she left her teacher’s side and wandered alone on the island, taking it as a chance to clear her mind.
But fate has its ironies. Sophia never imagined that a casual trip to a bookstore would lead her to the very person in question.
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She couldn’t possibly be mistaken, after all, the girl nad Dorothy did exude a scent strikingly similar to her ntor’s, and it was unlikely that a second Dragon Witch would appear on this remote, out-of-the-way little island.
At that mont, Sophia was entirely bewildered. She intended to greet her, but the words that ca out sounded awkward no matter how she phrased them.
In the end, that unexpected encounter ca to nothing.
"I guess I’ll never get along with this person."
That’s what Sophia thought to herself then.
Even now, the sa thoughts lingered...
The Six-Winged Glorious Archangel soared in the skies, the Holy Fire of her Ring of Faith shimring above her head, her body clad in High-Level Battle Armor forged from various precious materials, rampant Magic Power swirling around her. Her natural, intimidating presence made all things bow before her.
The Angel Witch Sophia descended like a deity.
Although she understood that even if she won the duel it would be aningless—she was powerless to change the fact that her opponent was her ntor’s blood kin, and it was unlikely she, an outsider, would ever beco her ntor’s pride. But that did not matter anymore.
Now, she simply wanted a fair and square fight with this person, to vent her feelings, if nothing else.
Shortly, on the distant side of the arena, her opponent’s figure entered Sophia’s perception, but the appearance of the other party made the Angel Witch pause, then grow a bit angry.
"Why isn’t this person wearing armor? Is she looking down on ?"
Her opponent, apart from a lavish Magic Wand newly in hand, remained unchanged—still that old-fashioned braid, still wearing those large, black-rimd glasses, still the lower half of her face hidden beneath a scarf, a look of soone afraid to be seen, lacking the poise expected of the ntor’s daughter, a deanor that would only embarrass the ntor if seen in public.
And entering the battlefield as a warrior, this person still wore her everyday Magic Robe rather than Battle Armor. How much must she be looking down on ? Does she think she can beat without armor, or does she believe she’s going to lose anyway so there’s no need for armor?
Whichever the reason, such attire in a duel showed disrespect towards the opponent.
In that mont, Angel Witch Sophia’s rage flared. She thought for a second, and her exquisite Battle Armor dissipated in a burst of light. She stretched out her hand, and a white Two-handed Greatsword Magic Wand, burning with Holy Fire, appeared in her grasp.
The proud Angel wouldn’t take advantage of anyone. If you don’t wear armor, neither will I. You only have 10,000 Magic Power, so today I will only use 10,000 Magic Power as well. I intend to defeat you fairly and squarely in front of the ntor," she decided inwardly, sword pointed at her opponent.
The countdown clock above the Arena finally reached zero.
Just as it hit zero, before either side’s health bars had even appeared, the Angel Witch had already swung her greatsword.
She must win this battle; having been taught by the ntor for years, she could not possibly lose to this person, this lazy, inelegant person who lacked respect. Why should this person be the ntor’s daughter? She refused to accept it. This person was unqualified, simply not up to par.
Angel Witch Sophia was trembling with fury, absolutely determined to teach this person a lesson.
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