Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

As for why Wayne stayed with Wiggins.

There are two reasons for this.

First, the Millennium Purple Sun is approaching. At that time, the entire continent's格局 (geju, a term referring to the overall situation or landscape) will undergo a dramatic change. Faced with such a great upheaval, only by staying in Wiggins can he truly approach the heart of this storm and seize the initiative, rather than passively awaiting his fate.

Secondly, Saint Hilde will not let him go.

He killed St. Hilde's missionary in Frostshire. St. Hilde will definitely settle this score with him. If he leaves Wiggins' sanctuary, St. Hilde has plenty of ways to make him disappear without a trace.

Therefore, he had no choice but to stay in Wiggins. By staying in Wiggins, he could gain the king's protection.

But it won't be easy for him to go back.

He must pave the way back to the capital.

This journey is destined to be fraught with danger.

For example, people like Dalton.

Dalton's attack continues.

His fists, elbows, knees, and legs, combined with a strange source of magic, each strike carried a power far exceeding his original level.

Dalton's attacks grew faster and faster, each strike leaving a trail of afterimages in the air. He laughed as he fought, his voice filled with an almost manic ecstasy.

"What? Weren't you so arrogant before? Now you're just a coward? Fight back! Fight back!"

Below the stage, Emma clenched her fists, her eyes fixed on the figure constantly dodging on the platform, her voice filled with barely suppressed anxiety: "Sister... why is Master keeping dodging? He could clearly fight back..."

Ella stood beside her, her tone much calmer: "Don't rush. Master has his plans."

"But……"

"Have you forgotten? When we left Frost Town, that peak fourth-tier demon didn't even have a chance to escape from Master." Ella's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a certainty. "Dalton's power is ill-gotten; he won't last long. Master is waiting for him to show a weakness."

Dalton threw another heavy punch, but Wayne dodged it, the wind from the punch grazing his ear.

Dalton didn't give chase. His chest heaved slightly, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "Why did you stop running? Tired?"

He opened his arms and showed himself to the audience.

"Look at yourself now, and then look at me. Do you still think you're that high and mighty genius? You're nothing in front of me!"

Wayne ignored his shouts.

The panel unfolded steadily in his field of vision:

[Dalton In Vivo Monitoring]

[Parasitic Monster: Black Blood Burst Bug (Mature)]

[Note: This monster is extremely rare. While its host is alive, it remains completely silent, fused with the host's magical energy circuits, making it undetectable by conventional methods. Upon the host's death, the insect instantly releases a large amount of compressed, highly potent demonic blood, triggering a massive explosion of tainted blood. The explosion radius is approximately ten meters. Creatures within the explosion area will be corrupted by the demonic blood, with a very high probability of transforming into low-level demons.]

[Note: The person who orchestrated this scheme never intended for Dalton to leave this stage alive. From the very beginning, Dalton was a pawn. If he lives, he can be used to kill you; if he dies, he can be used to destroy you. Either way, the person behind it will profit.]

[Note 2: If you kill Dalton now, the Bloodstained Explosion will plunge half the square into a demonic crisis. If that happens, and the charge is proven—"The Bishop of Frosttown caused a demonic calamity during the duel, resulting in a large number of civilians being transformed into demons"—no one can protect you.]

He had already read the contents of the panel, which was why Wayne hadn't attacked yet—he was afraid of accidentally killing someone.

Wayne looked at Dalton and said sarcastically.

"Fool, haven't you realized that even if I don't kill you, you're destined not to live past today?"

Dalton's expression visibly stiffened for a moment.

He could feel it. His heart was beating faster than usual, and the swelling in his chest hadn't subsided. It wasn't tension, nor excitement, but something felt blocked there, like something alive wriggling in his blood vessels. He kept suppressing this feeling, telling himself it was just the power of the demonic contract adjusting.

After Wayne made his point clear, that unease surged back. But Dalton gritted his teeth, stubbornly maintaining his composure and not giving himself away: "Playing tricks! Even if someone's going to die, you'll die before me!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Dalton charged forward again.

This time, Wayne did not back down.

The instant Dalton charged in front of him, he slightly turned his body to avoid the direct punch, his right hand shot out like lightning, grabbed Dalton's wrist, and pulled him to the side. Dalton lost his balance and staggered forward.

Wayne gave him no chance to adjust. He clenched his left fist and delivered a clean, straight punch to Dalton's ribs.

Click.

A crisp sound of bone cracking.

Dalton grunted, his body arching like a shrimp. Before he could recover from the impact of the punch, Wayne's second strike had already arrived.

An uppercut landed precisely on his chin.

Dalton was knocked off his feet, spun halfway through the air, and then crashed heavily onto the table, rolling twice and kicking up a cloud of dust.

There was a moment of silence in the audience.

Then a deafening scream erupted.

"Holy crap, they've retaliated!"

"That's more like it! That's the level of the Bishop of Frosttown!"

"One punch breaks ribs, one uppercut sends him flying... Wasn't Dalton just being arrogant?"

Dalton lay on the table, struggling to get up, but the excruciating pain from his broken ribs made him want to cry.

He braced himself against the ground, swaying as he stood up, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. This time, he was afraid: "You...you were just letting me have my way?"

Wayne didn't answer, because he had already moved again.

His figure blurred for a moment in Dalton's sight, then appeared before him in the next instant. Dalton grabbed Dalton's collar with his right hand and lifted him up.

Dalton's feet left the ground.

Just as he was about to struggle, Wayne delivered a knee strike to his abdomen.

Dalton felt stomach acid and blood rush to his throat, his vision went black, and he lost control of his body.

Wayne did not stop.

One punch, two punches, three punches.

Each punch was imbued with the purification of holy light, landing solidly on Dalton. The force was precise, the angle tricky, and each strike avoided vital points, not fatal, but painful enough.

But it seems the Holy Light isn't working.

The crowd below the stage was completely in an uproar.

"Kill him! Kill him!"

"Damn it, this is the kind of duel I've been wanting to see!"

"Wayne! Wayne! Wayne!"

Dalton was knocked to the ground.

Those harsh words kept ringing out.

He braced himself against the ground and stood up unsteadily.

"Hehe... Hahahaha..."

"Very well... since you all laugh at me... since you all want me dead..."

His voice rose.

"Then none of them should live!"

He suddenly ripped open his shirt.

The moment his chest was exposed, the veins beneath his skin began to glow—a dark red light, as if something was about to burst forth from his body.

The light grew brighter and more dazzling, and his skin began to crack, with a dark red light shining through the cracks.

The people in the audience finally realized something was wrong.

"Th-what is that?!"

"His chest..."

"What is he doing?!"

On the bench, the judge abruptly stood up, his expression changing drastically: "Everyone back off! Back off immediately!"