"You're still as boring as ever," Brian lounged lazily on the long sofa.
The elegant male voice was as cold as a snake's hiss, with a hint of indifference in his tone. His right hand held a tall glass filled with fragrant red wine.
Brian's pale lips touched the crystal-clear rim of the glass. His ink-blue eyes seemed to reflect the deep red wine nearby, radiating a faint darkness. Strands of his hair hung loosely, and his silky hair tips brushed against the corners of his upturned eyes. A delicate silver-framed monocle concealed his emotions.
"Oh my! Isn't this route utterly devoid of excitement? I can only have some fun with these adorable newcomers!" A playful and sweet voice chimed in, carrying a cheerful tone.
This voice held a hint of amusement, which was quite unusual for... a man.
He sported a small black top hat and a lavish black evening gown. The flowing silk gown shimmered like rippling water as it cascaded down his figure. The gown was adorned with intricate patterns made from the most precious deep-sea pearls, shining brilliantly.
Perched on his shoulder was an exquisitely crafted miniature wooden puppet, reminiscent of the ones Cyril and the others had seen on the cruise. The miniature puppet was dressed in a matching black evening suit. What made it unique was that this puppet had facial features, albeit rudimentary ones, with what appeared to be two "X" marks for eyes and a crooked horizontal dash as a mouth. Surprisingly, this puppet could speak using its mouth.
"Can only have some fun with these adorable newcomers!" The puppet repeated with a raspy voice, akin to the sound of a wheezing bellows.
"After all, the Headmaster has changed identities to join the fun, and I'm just a little wizard. What could be more enjoyable than assisting you with enrolling new students on this journey? Have you forgotten that it's our turn at the Snowberg Academy to escort the new arrivals to Whalesfall Island?" Chris Black's tone playfully rose as he gazed at the Dean, who was sipping his wine on the couch, seemingly unfazed.
Brian's actions remained unchanged. He didn't even lift an eyelid, let alone respond. However, Chris's eyes lit up as if he had finally seized an opportunity to share his grievances.
He continued babbling, "That owl Zoey really got Christina worked up when she told her! There's nothing I can do about it. I was in the middle of a critical experiment when my sister caught me and made me assist you in enrolling students."
Chris carefully observed Brian's expression, and seeing that the man's demeanor remained calm, he changed the topic, "But I heard from Christina that you came to Atlantis and even specially created a batch of puppets for this ship."
He glanced at the scene projected by the crystal ball in front of him. At this moment, the crystal ball displayed a round stage where two boys were engaged in a confrontation.
Their raw and savage physical battle resembled two wild beasts fighting over what little prey remained. Chris lightly rubbed the chin of the small puppet sitting on his shoulder, which resembled the miniature puppets they had seen on the cruise.
The puppet was dressed in the same color as the men's evening attire, and what made it even more unique was that it had facial features. Though the features looked like someone had haphazardly carved two "X" marks for eyes and a crooked horizontal dash as a mouth, this puppet could indeed speak.
"These newcomers can't even perform a single magic attack!" The puppet repeated, its voice gravelly, like a wheezing bellows.
Chris stared at the projection in the crystal ball, his brow slightly furrowing. The perspective shown by the crystal ball was not fixed; it flexibly switched angles to capture the ongoing fight on the central stage and occasionally displayed reactions of the audience below.
The two participants on the circular stage had been fighting for so long that their cheeks were covered in bruises. Their legs were weak, struggling to support their bodies due to exhaustion, yet the puppet referee didn't call for a stop.
"I overestimated them... These newcomers are really not up to par," Chris muttered under his breath, wearing a troubled expression.
"If there's no exciting match, will the other wizards on the ship ask me to resign from my post as the Crystal Referee? That would be troublesome," he continued.
Brian's gaze hadn't been on the projection from the crystal ball earlier; he had been savoring his wine with his eyes closed. However, upon hearing Chris's complaints, he casually lifted his eyelids and glanced at the projection.
Coincidentally, at that moment, probably due to the lackluster performance of the two individuals on the circular stage, the crystal ball's image switched to focus on the spectators, lingering for a second or two on Cyril's calm and composed face.
Seeing how nonchalantly Cyril distanced himself from the situation, Brian arched his slender brows ever so slightly, a nearly imperceptible hint of amusement playing at the corner of his lips.
Upon closer scrutiny, one could detect a subtle layer of mockery and cynicism in his expression.
"Let them have a duel," Brian spoke casually and calmly.
"A duel! Why didn't I think of that? As long as the reward is generous enough..." Chris squinted his bright eyes, his smile carrying a hint of mischief.
Cyril patiently watched the two less-than-impressive participants on the circular stage, his expression somewhat peculiar. Could it be that the devious owner of this sinister cruise ship enjoyed watching people fight? Well, there wasn't much to see here.
More newcomers who had accrued debts in the casino were brought forward. Cyril walked toward the "21-Point" game on the other side. There was a table with only three participants, not yet in progress.
Cyril approached the dealer's position at the casino and exchanged his remaining two witch crystals for two chips.
"Since everyone else at this table has five chips, you'll need to owe an additional three witch crystals. Are you sure?" The puppet dealer calmly inquired.
"Sure," Cyril replied.
Cyril took a seat at the table and glanced at the parchment on the table, which briefly explained the rules of the "21-Point" game: a deck of cards with 52 cards, excluding the jokers, was used. Initially, the puppet dealer gave each participant one face-up card (visible to others) and one face-down card (visible only to themselves). Participants could choose to draw more cards or skip based on the point value of their hand. When all participants stopped drawing cards, the one with the highest total points without exceeding 21 would win.
After all the participants had taken their seats, the puppet dealer began to shuffle the cards. The sound of "swish, swish, swish" as the cards flipped reached Cyril's ears. At the same time, he communicated with the system in his mind:
"Are you ready?"
"Don't worry, there's no problem! Trust in my calculations! Trust in mathematics!" The system's voice exuded confidence.
The puppet dealer started dealing cards, two for each person. Cyril received a 4 of hearts and a 3 of clubs, totaling 7. The other three players had face-up cards, which were a 7 of diamonds, a 5 of spades, and a 2 of hearts.
The system quickly displayed on the screen in front of Cyril all possible hand probabilities for the other three players and the best strategy for Cyril to request another card.
The puppet dealer paused after dealing a round of cards, allowing everyone to see their hands before proceeding with the next round. With gloved hands, the puppet dealer placed a card in front of Cyril. Its featureless head nodded slightly, and it emitted a calm mechanical voice, "Would you like to draw a card?"
"Yes," Cyril replied.
He gently lifted a corner of the card in front of him and glanced at the number, which was a 10 of diamonds. Now, the total value of his hand was 17. The data on the system's screen in front of Cyril refreshed with all possible outcomes for the other three players.
After a few more rounds, Cyril received a 3 of spades, bringing his hand total to 20. Without revealing any emotion on his face, Cyril skipped requesting more cards for the following rounds.
When everyone decided to stop drawing cards, the puppet dealer instructed them to reveal their hands. Cyril looked at the other players' cards. As expected, the sum of their points was less than his, with the highest being 18.
However, before Cyril could celebrate, his peripheral vision caught something unusual on his own cards. His heart skipped a beat, and his charming almond-shaped eyes widened. The smile he had yet to fully form froze on his face.
Silently and imperceptibly, someone had swapped his cards!
The four cards in front of Cyril, which had been revealed, had now changed to a 4 of hearts, a 3 of clubs, a 2 of diamonds, and a 3 of spades. The 10 of diamonds that Cyril had initially turned over had been instantly replaced! It had been a 10 of diamonds when he first revealed it...
Cyril quickly lifted his head and carefully observed the expressions of the other three people at the table. The two losers appeared dejected and frustrated, while the winner seemed genuinely shocked and incredulous, with no signs of deceit.
"System, did you see anything?" Cyril inquired.
"Damn! I didn't see anything! The numbers on the cards just changed quietly. This must be magic!" Cyril lowered his head slightly, casting his long, curled eyelashes downward. With a hint of coldness in his current demeanor, his almond-shaped eyes were partially obscured.
Cyril's fingertips lightly moved as he contemplated his next move. Should he continue playing and accumulate more chips? However, if someone was secretly using magic to hinder him, he would only lose more. After all, magic was the only way to counteract magic.
"Mr. Dealer, I request to see the remaining cards," Cyril asked bluntly in a calm tone.
The other two players who had lost also chimed in, "Yes, we'd like to see as well!" They suspected the winner had cheated.
The puppet dealer's head slightly bobbed up and down, and it proceeded to reveal the remaining undealt cards one by one, in a smooth motion. Cyril quickly scanned them and spotted the 10 of diamonds, which had been in his hand but was now lying among the remaining cards, as if it had never moved.
With an indifferent expression, Cyril stood up and made his way to the circular stage in the center of the casino.
Coincidentally, a game had just concluded. Cyril ascended the steps to the circular stage, and the other waiting participants didn't mind him cutting the line; instead, they were relieved they could continue playing.
The sooner they finished, the better.
As Cyril thought to himself, he stepped onto the stage.
At this moment, the previous winner, relieved that the match was finally over, let out a sigh of relief and walked past Cyril. He even smiled and said, "Hey, good luck, buddy!"
However, his smile pulled at the wound on his lips, causing his facial features to contort in pain. He grimaced and said, "Ouch, ouch, ouch!"
Cyril looked at his bruised and swollen face, finding the situation somewhat bemusing.
Just then, the puppet referee suddenly spoke up, "Starting now, the match will be a duel! The final defender will receive a reward of 1000 witch crystals! Everyone in the casino can participate!"
Cyril: ???
Well, it seems I have reason to suspect that someone is targeting me, and I have evidence.
The sudden increase in volume of the puppet referee's voice drowned out the music and reached the ears of all the new students present.
"1000 witch crystals!"
The crowd erupted in excitement.
"That's right! And the wizard of the Black Number will also provide medical treatment for those who are in serious life-threatening situations during the match."
The students' eyes grew even more eager.
Standing in the center of the circular stage, Cyril suddenly became the focus of the crowd. He felt like a tempting pile of witch crystals, and the students' gazes were like those of predators who had spotted their future feast.
Cyril once again felt the sinister glares, like he was being targeted by unseen vipers, lurking in the midst of all these gazes.
He subconsciously reached out and pressed the rose necklace around his neck through his clothes, reminding himself that he wasn't alone in this battle; little snake Grim and the system were with him.
With that in mind, Cyril took a deep breath, and his gaze hardened.
"May I...referee...voluntarily surrender?" The player who had lost in the previous round, lying on the stage, mustered the strength to lift his head and asked the puppet referee.
His voice was weak and trembling, as if he might pass out any moment.
Cyril followed the voice and looked towards the person. He could barely recognize this familiar face from the colorful marks on his cheeks. It turned out to be the same boy who had tried to rob him in the middle of the night and had mysteriously fled.
"Sure," the puppet referee probably thought there was no harm in letting this person play another round, so he nodded in agreement.
Next, Cyril saw this boy swiftly and agilely slip off the stage, defying his current physical condition. He seemed afraid that the puppet referee would catch him and make him continue the game.
Well, it's an actor? No wonder he intentionally bumped into me earlier.
"I, Adams Philip, request a challenge!" A tall young man with brown hair and an excessively lush beard on his chin strode to the front of the circular stage. He raised his chest, tilted his chin up, and spoke to the puppet referee.
The puppet referee nodded and allowed him to step onto the stage.
Then it took out an hourglass and gestured to both of them, saying, "When one side voluntarily surrenders or there is extreme danger to life, the match ends automatically. If the match proceeds normally until the hourglass runs out, the attacker fails when the match time ends."
Both of them nodded in understanding.
As the bearded young man stepped onto the circular stage, he stood face to face with Cyril. Compared to this well-built young man, Cyril suddenly appeared even thinner and weaker.
"I advise you to surrender voluntarily," the bearded young man glanced at Cyril, grinned, and drawled slowly.
Cyril raised an eyebrow. He remembered that his magic index was indeed "15", and then he quickly ran through the well-memorized spells and their corresponding magical runes in his mind, putting his mind at ease for now.
Little buddy, you know nothing about the power of magic.
However, the next moment, Cyril watched as the man carefully pulled a long, curved stick from inside his coat. His large frame holding that tiny black stick looked somewhat comical.
It's a wand!
Cyril's gaze fixed on the wand, and his brow twitched. He suddenly remembered the conversation he had overheard during dinner at the Rose Manor. This person was the new student, Philip, who had found the wand.
Cyril's expression turned serious. In his impression, a wand was the most potent weapon a wizard could possess, almost equivalent to being their partner in magic.
Cyril quietly had the system scan the person's physical data:
- Name: Adams Philip
- Age: 15
- Stamina: 9
- Strength: 12
- Mental Power: 15
- Magic: 5
- Achievement: Wealthy owner of a Black Rose Trading Company membership card
- Note: This kid looks too grown up for his age. He could pass as your dad. But don't worry, there's no problem! By the end of the match, you'll have him begging to call you 'dad'.
Cyril quickly glanced at the screen in front of him, noting that Philip had excellent mental power and magic skills. Combined with the fact that he possessed a wand (apparently a unique one among the new students), it was no wonder he felt confident about defeating Cyril and becoming the final winner.
Cyril understood the situation and examined the information displayed by the system about Philip's wand:
- Name: Schrödinger's Wand / Schrödinger's Kate
- Purpose: A tool for assisting wizards and wizard apprentices in casting magic
- Usage: You wouldn't hold it with your foot, would you? It's not recommended.
- Note: This wand was made by a wizard named Schrödinger (currently employed at the Tower of Truth) during his apprenticeship. He affectionately named it "Kate".
- Why do I know this so clearly? I generously inform you. Please look closely at the end of the wand; is there a line of information about the maker— "Schrödinger, Tower of Truth, A-grade wizard apprentice"?
Due to Schrödinger's sudden inspiration while making this wand, the magical array used to combine the materials in the wand was quite creative. Therefore, there was a 50% chance that the wand would not act according to the owner's intentions. As for whose intentions it would follow, that remained unknown.
This was a wand even its creator, Schrödinger, couldn't predict! No one could guess what magical wonders would happen the moment the holder of this wand cast a spell! Oh, the enchanting and infuriatingly unpredictable charm of this wand!
Cyril's initial reaction was that this wand had quite the mysterious background, and the information about it was unusually lengthy.
After quickly reading through it, he became even more alert. What made this wand different from the others, being crafted by an A-grade wizard apprentice at the Tower of Truth? What did it mean that there was a 50% chance it wouldn't act according to its owner's intentions?
Furthermore, it was noteworthy that this was the first time Cyril had seen the system display such a friendly and enthusiastic description for a magical item.
He became increasingly cautious, not daring to be careless.
The puppet referee had not yet announced the start of the match, apparently waiting for something.
Cyril's gaze swept across the audience below, and he saw the Weber siblings and the two Abraham boys looking worried. Even Paris Grell on the other side did not seem purely delighted.
His heart warmed slightly.
Why hasn't it started yet?
Cyril wondered, then saw a puppet dealer below the stage holding a brass chest in both hands, placing it in the most conspicuous position below the circular stage.
"The new project has begun—the betting project for the defender's title match," the puppet dealer pointed to the brass chest beside him with his gloved hand and continued in his emotionless voice, "The coin slot on the left side of this box represents Adams Philip, the tall figure on the left side of the circular stage holding a wand. The coin slot on the right represents Cyril Lawrence, who is standing on the right side of the circular stage with empty hands."
Cyril twitched at the rather... objective introduction.
Soon, Cyril saw many new students gradually placing chips into the coin slot representing Philip. He could hear the crisp sound of brass chips falling to the bottom of the box, particularly clear.
On the other hand, the coin slot representing himself remained untouched.
Cyril: Thanks for the offense.