"Wow! This just got interesting! Finally, a new student has taken out a wand; we should be able to see some basic magical attacks now," Chris exclaimed as he watched the image projected by the crystal ball in front of him. He nodded in satisfaction.
Great, now the other wizards can't ask him to return the Withdrawal Crystal.
"It seems like the Headmaster has a plan after all, hehehe," Chris chuckled to himself, resting his gloved hand with black lace on his chin. The little wooden puppet on his shoulder emitted a creepy "hehehe" laugh.
"Headmaster, how about a little bet?" Chris tilted his head towards Brian. "Let's see who wins!"
His voice grew excited.
"Sure, I bet on the new student without a wand," Brian replied with a casual tone as he looked at the screen.
Chris was momentarily stunned. He had just made the comment casually and didn't expect the unpredictable Headmaster to agree. However, the Headmaster was now betting on the obvious underdog.
Chris was puzzled. He carefully examined the young man named Cyril Lawrence; indeed, he was exceptionally good-looking, just a tad inferior to himself. Did the Headmaster base his bet on appearances?
"Well then, I bet on the new student with a wand! If I win, Headmaster, you must give me a bottle of that exquisite Lucky Potion. If I lose, I promise to prepare a heartfelt gift for you!" Chris said, trying to secure his own advantage, regardless of what the Headmaster was considering.
The Lucky Potion was priceless, but Chris knew the Headmaster had quite a collection. Chris remembered the Headmaster's laboratory he had visited before, filled with thousands of Witch Crystals worth various rare potions. He was envious.
However, Chris glanced at his beautiful dress. Yes, it was undoubtedly a dress soaked in Witch Crystal scent. Those darn blue elf tailors knew how to exploit people!
"Hmm," Brian lazily nodded. He lightly twirled the ring on his finger and looked at Cyril on the crystal ball's stage. The ambiguous lighting above the circular stage cast enchanting shadows on his fair face.
Golden spots danced on his long eyelashes, making the small mole at the corner of his left eye gleam with a dazzling golden hue. The slim figure of the little rose was elegant and upright. His bright and clear almond-shaped eyes showed no signs of panic; instead, they were filled with determination.
Brian eagerly anticipated Cyril's next performance. After all, he had replaced the cards in Cyril's hand and created new rules for the game. He had put in quite some effort.
The handsome undead wizard thought absentmindedly.
When he saw Cyril unconsciously touch the rose necklace around his neck, Brian paused for a moment and felt a strange satisfaction surging within him. He chuckled softly, his lips curling up.
Chris noticed that the Headmaster's mood seemed to have suddenly improved. What just happened? He looked at the small puppet on his shoulder, which also shook its head in confusion.
Chris then saw a skeleton servant appear by the Headmaster's side, holding a bottle of deep red wine. It bowed and poured the aged wine into the Headmaster's nearly empty glass, showing great courtesy.
Chris pursed his lips and shifted his gaze back to the image projected by the crystal ball.
"That new student's wand is the one Xue Dingyue used before!" Chris's voice carried a hint of surprise. He hesitated for a moment and continued, "That wizard apprentice named 'Xue Dingyue'... I have a vivid impression of him."
His voice trembled slightly, and he felt a bit regretful. He had been careless! The Headmaster must have noticed this and bet on the other new student winning.
Chris sneaked a glance at the composed Headmaster, sighing in frustration. He also remembered Xue Dingyue's previous experiments, which didn't bode well.
Paris Grelle looked at Cyril on the circular stage and noticed his calm and composed demeanor. He couldn't help but recall the "Late-night Boy's Terrified Screaming" incident that happened on the third night of their stay at Rose Manor.
Paris, staying in Room 603, which happened to be next door to Cyril, was an unfortunate witness to that event. That night, he was tired from exploring the manor and was climbing the stairs to the sixth floor.
As Paris reached the final step, he saw the unfortunate boy rushing down like a bullet, moving at an incredible speed. He thought the boy was going to rob or harm him, given the sheer velocity.
He saw the boy pass by him in a state of panic, shouting loudly, "Ahhhh!" while not even looking back, sprinting down the stairs three steps at a time.
The boy's face was filled with pure terror, as if he hadn't even seen a person as large as Paris.
As Paris continued walking, he saw the door to Room 601, where Cyril lived, suddenly close with a distinct "click." It was a completely normal action, but it seemed eerie at that particular moment, especially after the boy's terrified escape.
Paris immediately felt a chill down his spine. It seemed that Cyril Lawrence had something to do with scaring that boy so badly.
Due to fear, he hurried back to his own room. However, he spent the rest of the night wondering how Cyril had managed to terrify that boy. After all, Cyril had seemed perfectly normal throughout their journey from Philadelphia to the capital.
Now, standing around the circular stage, Paris Grelle hesitated for a moment. He watched as more and more people placed their bets and finally decided to take a chance.
He walked up to the brass chest where bets were placed and dropped five brass chips on the right side, representing Cyril Lawrence.
As he saw the chips disappear into the slot, Paris felt a slight regret. But when he turned around, he noticed the commoner siblings and the two Arabian brothers queuing behind him, ready to bet on Cyril Lawrence.
Paris clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked at the central stage. Cyril made eye contact with him.
Cyril appeared relaxed, wearing a hint of a smile, and raised his hand to gesture "OK" to them, causing Paris's eyes to widen.
This guy...!
Paris reluctantly turned his gaze away.
But I must win! Five chips represent a whole meal!
If Lawrence doesn't win... I'll definitely go after him for a refund!
After all the new students who wanted to bet had placed their chips, the wooden puppet referee shouted, "Get ready—"
As soon as it finished speaking, Philip's body moved. He positioned his left foot forward, right foot back, lowered his body, and held his wand tightly in a posture ready to attack. Cyril also tensed up, all limbs rigid.
"3—2—1! The match begins!"
With the referee's command, Philip quickly shouted, "Blazing Inferno!"
It was a Fireball spell! At the same time, Philip's wand in his right hand swiftly traced magical runes in the air.
Cyril keenly realized that Philip was using his wand to draw the magic runes for the "Fireball" spell. It seemed that his earlier guess was correct: Philip had learned some basic spells and magic runes from somewhere.
Cyril fixed his gaze on Philip's wand, his expression focused. He was uncertain about the extent to which the wand would enhance his magic.
At that moment, Cyril, the new students watching, and the puppet dealers officiating the game all heard a loud "biubiu—biubiu—" explosion sound.
Then, everyone stared in amazement as colorful sparkles erupted from the tip of Philip's wand.
The colored sparkles floated gently in the air, resembling several giant fireworks being set off.
Safe, environmentally friendly, lively, and joyful.
Aside from being somewhat out of place in the intense atmosphere of the match, everything was perfect.
Cyril: ???
Philip: ???
Onlookers: ???
The wooden puppet referee had no facial features to reveal its emotions, but its movements seemed to freeze for a moment.
"It's here! Truly worthy of Xue Dingyue's wand! Oh, the magical charm of this wand is simply enchanting!" the system exclaimed in admiration.
"Pfft—"
Laughter erupted among the spectators below the circular stage. Someone, unable to contain their amusement any longer, burst into laughter.
Laughter seemed to be contagious, and soon, chuckles echoed around the circular stage.
As some people laughed, they suddenly noticed the brass chest next to the wooden puppet dealer. Their smiles vanished, replaced by twisted expressions.
Damn it! What's there to laugh about? His chips are on Philip!
Philip's face was now as colorful as the sparkles.
Even the full beard covering his entire chin couldn't hide his expression of exhaustion at this moment.
"The match continues!" The wooden puppet referee snapped back to attention and reminded loudly.
"Roaring Inferno!" Philip continued to shout.
His voice was even louder than before, as if it would give him more courage.
This time, he finally succeeded!
Cyril saw a fireball the size of an orange spinning towards his head at a rapid speed. He quickly dodged to the right.
The audience in the direction the fireball was flying towards also backed away, afraid of being affected.
However, this fireball failed to fly out of the circular stage. Everyone saw it collide with an invisible wall at the edge of the stage, disintegrating rapidly and disappearing completely.
It seemed that there were protective measures in place to prevent harm to the audience below.
Cyril pondered for a moment. He also recalled what the wooden puppet referee had said earlier, "The wizard master from Black No. will provide treatment for those who are in serious life-threatening danger during the match." His eyes flickered slightly.
Now, he didn't have to worry about what would happen if his opponent got injured.
Cyril was not someone who would just sit back and let the opponent attack. He made a feint, pretending to initiate a physical attack while quickly muttering under his breath, "Roaring Inferno."
As a result, a fireball the size of a human head shot straight towards Philip at lightning speed.
The new students who had bet on Philip to win were all stunned, their faces filled with disbelief.
What? How can he be so ruthless? Even without a wand, he can still unleash such a powerful spell? And that fireball is even larger than my head?
Some of them realized that something was terribly wrong. Their hands trembled slightly as they mourned the loss of their chips.
"Flowing Waters!" Philip pretended to be calm as he waved his wand and shouted.
However, the watery shield he imagined that would block the fireball did not appear. Instead, a small, fledgling bird flew out from the tip of his wand.
The tiny bird, flapping its wings with a fearless and indomitable spirit, charged towards the fireball.
Then it successfully turned itself into a roasted bird with a sizzling sound, falling onto the stage floor.
The fireball was momentarily blocked by the bird, happily accepting this offering, and continued on its original path.
Philip could only panic and dodge.
Cyril saw the black, seemingly still emitting the scent of cooked food, lying on the ground, and couldn't help but chuckle softly.
At this moment, he couldn't help but agree with the system's words.
Mr. Schrödinger is truly a remarkable person! The magical charm of this wand is absolutely captivating!