Mage Adam

This was Island No. 8, one of the ten islands. Its size was neither the biggest nor the smallest, falling somewhere in the middle.

Judging by this, Adam estimated that Island No. 1, the largest island, was about five times bigger than Ceylon Island.

Now, Adam fully understood what Priscilla had meant.

The negative energy surrounding the island didn't bother Adam at all. He easily synced with the island's magnetic field, and suddenly, everything on the island became clear to him.

Energy points, each showing different power levels, lit up in his mind like a radar.

The Fifth Tower's "protection" for the antimages here was obvious; there were far more antimages here than on Ceylon Island.

Bright level-two energy points were scattered all over, with a good number of level-threes, and even over a dozen level-fours.

It looked like the recent Trials of War hadn't drawn attention to this island, giving the antimages more time to grow.

Adam raised his hand and pointed toward the sky. Dark clouds quickly gathered, with multiple thunder runes glowing inside them as thunder rumbled loudly.

He made no effort to stay hidden, choosing to announce his arrival in the most direct way.

At the same time, the strange free energy scattered instantly. Mutated beasts, clearly altered in some way, ran off in every direction with their tails between their legs.

Adam's radar picked up countless energy points moving quickly, including more than a dozen level-four points heading toward him.

The antimages were gathering, seemingly ready for a fight.

Adam stayed in the sky for a full hour, giving them time to prepare. He kept the entire island under his watch.

As long as no level-three or higher antimage tried to escape, Adam didn't care if they assembled. In fact, it would make things easier for him.

As for the strength of the antimages, he wasn't worried at all. To him, they were just weaklings, incapable of putting up any real fight.

...

Across Island No. 8, countless antimage apprentices and low-level antimages were busy getting ready for battle.

After 500 years of progress, they felt they had gained considerable power. They were eager to make their enemy suffer, maybe even win back some territory.

But in the island's center, where the level-three and level-four antimages had gathered, the mood was grim and serious.

"It's just one traitor. They're barely paying attention to us anymore," a dry voice broke the silence.

"Attention? Why would they care about us?" another person answered bitterly. "Over the years, you've all been to the Mage Continent, right? They get stronger every day. As much as we hate to admit it, we're like rats to them now. They could crush us in a heartbeat."

"If we just had more time, maybe in another 200 years, a few Magisters could emerge from among us."

"What's the point in saying that? Do you really think they'll give us more time? The traitor won't let us get any stronger," a cold voice said. "What we need to decide now is: do we surrender, or do we take our chances?"

Surrender meant total defeat, while gambling was the tempting offer made by the Tower. The promise was that if the antimages could kill or stop the mage sent to collect, they would be granted more time, freedom, and even a chance to leave the Mage World.

But this wasn't a show of mercy by the Tower; it was the cruelest kind of torment. The Tower didn't want the antimages to give up completely and destroy themselves, so the mages dangled hope in front of them, only to crush it over and over.

The antimages knew it was a trap, but their desperation for survival and freedom made them fall for it every time.

From what Adam had learned, in all the years and countless harvests, no mage had ever been killed during a mission, and no island had ever been freed.

"Five hundred years ago, we surrendered," someone said, breaking through the roof and pulling back his hood. His face was thin and gaunt as he stared up at the sky. "Back then, we faced ten traitors. We didn't stand a chance. But now, it's just one mage. He might be using the strongest form of lightning magic, but I think we can win."

"Besides, even if we lose, what's the harm? We can always surrender again. These traitors need us; they won't wipe us all out."

...

If they knew Adam's true nature, or what he had done on Ceylon Island, they would never have chosen to gamble.

Adam was waiting for the antimages to make the first move so he could eliminate them all in one decisive strike.

...

The Trials of War had a purpose---testing a mage's real abilities and future role in interplane conflicts through life-or-death battles. But the system was outdated. While magic and knowledge had evolved, the trial methods had stayed the same for centuries. It felt like an embarrassment to the modern mage system.

Apprentices couldn't handle the stress of traveling between planes for battle, but mages could easily create a "simulation plane," filling it with different transplanar creatures as trial opponents. Focusing on these decaying antimages wasn't laziness, but it still felt like a waste of time.

These were just Adam's thoughts, though. He didn't have the power to change such high-level decisions yet. His frustration with the delay was starting to grow, and he even toyed with the idea of creating a virtual reality space for training.

While Adam's mind wandered, more than a hundred figures rose from the island, flying rapidly toward him.

Their low chanting echoed through the air as strange, colorful energies gathered beneath the dark clouds, launching toward Adam in the next moment.

Lightning struck from the sky, breaking apart the antimages' spells one by one, then curving in midair to strike back at them.

The antimages were thrilled. They had confirmed that Adam was using lightning magic and quickly put their countermeasures into action.

After sacrificing a few of their own, they managed to resist the waves of thunderbolts.

More spells filled the sky as even older, more dangerous magic began to take shape.

Adam noticed that all the energy points representing the level-three and higher antimages had gathered in one spot. He nodded in approval.

A flicker of blue light appeared in his eyes as layers of electromagnetic shields formed in front of him, effortlessly blocking their attacks.

The antimages didn't know that they were already caught in a powerful magnetic field.

"You've reached this level, and yet you're still shackled to your flesh," Adam muttered softly. He raised his left hand slightly, and suddenly, all the level-three antimages felt their bodies spiraling out of control. Their blood flowed normally for a moment, then reversed violently.

Adam clenched his fist. One by one, the level-three antimages exploded like firecrackers.

The dozen or so remaining level-four antimages went pale with fear. They quickly shouted, "Stop! We surrender! We're willing to be captured! By the agreement, you're not allowed to kill us!"

But Adam flicked his fingers, and magnetic lines tightened around them. He didn't respond to their cries for mercy, indifferent to any agreements they thought would save them. The only thing in his mind was Priscilla's words: if they resist, eliminate them.