I Will Be The Crowned King

Anson's tense eyes stared at Mace Hornard without blinking, trying to restrain his trembling legs so that he could calm down and not be so...

Creepy!

To be honest, when he played against Bron, he did find that he had seriously underestimated the strength of the enemy; this also had something to do with experience. He had come into contact with victims who were born with flaws and believed in small advertisements, or second-rate amateurs. There is no direct contact with the real Old God organization at all.

Even so, the strength of the black mage is beyond his imagination - the captain of the judge of the dignified religious inquisition did not survive a single face-to-face, and was torn apart.

And Mace Hornard...he didn't even get up from his chair!

The black mage sitting in the armchair was still watching him gently like an elder, and his outstretched right hand was still hovering in the air, waiting for Anson to hand over the box containing the "Big Magic Book" memory cards.

Anson, who twitched his throat desperately, lowered his head: Lawrence Bernat's corpse was smashed into flesh and mixed with blood plasma. .

At that moment, Anson was very sure that he only heard a gunshot, and that the explosion was definitely not the lead bullet ejected from the axe gun - within a radius of 20 meters of the casting range, the caster's sense of distance can shield black magic to a certain extent. the illusion.

What exactly happened? !

His right hand, clutching the mechanical box tightly, was hidden behind his back, and his palm was already full of sweat.

calm down.

Since the other party didn't kill him the first time, it means he is safe... At least now, he still needs me to live; although it is not clear how he avoided himself and the entire storm group, plus the sight of more than a dozen judges appearing behind...

Wait, maybe he didn't run away.

Anson suddenly remembered the scarlet-eyed Serra Virgil when Bron appeared; she seemed to be bound all over her body, her throat tightly choked, and she hesitated to say something to herself.

Maybe she wasn't being controlled by Bron?

Maybe she wanted to remind herself at that time?

Maybe it was because she saw Mace Hornard...

Just... standing behind you?

"Huh—!"

Taking a deep breath, An Sen raised his head sharply, forcing a calm look at the Black Mage who was still sitting across from him, with a reluctant smile on the corner of his mouth:

"Professor, before you forgive me, can you explain a few questions for me?"

"of course can."

Gently put down his right hand, Mace Hornard's eyes never left Anson's body: "You are my favorite student, and I am very happy to answer all your questions at any time."

"why?"

"Why... I don't understand?"

"Why am I your favorite student, not Bron?" Anson asked softly, involuntarily glanced at the ice blue eyes that rolled to his feet:

"He is the person closest to you and has done a lot for you, but you just watched me kill him, and then said 'I am your favorite student', calmly forgave me for betraying you thing."

"So I'm very scared now. I'm afraid that if I give you the box, I'll end up like Bronny."

The words fell, and a sudden smile appeared on Mace Hornard's face.

"It turned out to be the case. I didn't explain it clearly, which made you think too much." The black mage shook his head:

"Dear Anson, please accept my apology."

"It's very simple, Bron is the person I trust most, and you are my most promising student. Your position in my heart is equally important. My attitude towards you is very sincere; I am also very willing to As a mentor, I will provide you with all the help you can and become my right-hand man."

"But...hehe...To be honest, I don't really care about your life or death."

Mace Hornard's expression was as gentle as ever.

Anson's heart skipped a beat.

"Remember our first 'real' meeting at Thundercastle?" Mace Hornard asked:

"You did make me a little surprised when you chose conjuration, but it was only an accident; even if you chose the other two, things wouldn't have changed much - except that I might have killed you at the time. Just a little."

"Of course, you still gave me a lot of surprises; the battle of Thunder Castle, joining the Church of Order, sabotaging the conspiracy of the Guards... As I said, I have never denied your credit, you did a perfect job ."

"So to you, I'm just a 'good tool man'." Anson looked at him:

"Is it right?"

The Black Mage smiled.

"Dear Anson, please allow me to answer this question with what you said to Bloane." Mace Hornard shrugged his shoulders and shook his head uncontrollably:

"From the moment we met, has there been even a trace of 'trust' between you and me?"

"If I remember correctly, we didn't even meet and write to each other a lot... right?"

"Isn't it a matter of course to use and betray each other?"

An Sen, who gradually calmed down, said nothing and his expression became calm.

"As for Bron... He is slightly different from you, and he is the person I trust the most." Mace Hornard nodded lightly:

"Because of years of trust and repeated contacts, he has learned so many things that he gradually began to have undeserved ambitions, trying to understand some things he should not have known."

"But at the end of the day, you don't actually understand what it means to be a 'spellcaster' and the original ring."

"The three old gods, what does their existence and fall mean to the true believers of the old gods?"

"So you just stood by and watched me kill him?"

Anson tightened his heartstrings and watched the Black Mage's every move: "Because you didn't take our life or death in your heart, you don't care or don't care."

The gentle Mace Hornard tilted his head slightly to one shoulder and kept smiling without saying a word.

The expression that seemed to be watching a gorgeous drama made Anson's scalp tingle.

That's right, he is deliberately delaying time now - since Lawrence Bernat is safe when he comes down, then the rest of the Inquisitors should be still alive, as long as they can detect that something is wrong below, and then do it in time maybe……

No, it's impossible.

I have seen Lawrence's death with my own eyes. If even the most experienced judge will be torn to shreds by the black mage in the blink of an eye, then the amount is the same.

From the very beginning... I didn't have a choice.

Desperately suppressing his trembling, An Sen took out the mechanical box containing the "Great Magic Book" from behind and held it up with one hand with a stiff expression.

One step, two steps, three steps... slowly approaching.

The corners of the black mage's mouth twitched slightly, and he stretched out his right hand, waiting for what was about to happen.

Yes, he knew very well what his favorite student was thinking. He could see clearly the thoughts that flashed and disappeared one by one, or that he didn't even dare to think too much for fear of being exposed.

Unlike Bron, although he is smart enough, Anson Bach is too young as a spellcaster, and he is too unfamiliar with secret skills and methods of fighting against other spellcasters, and he cannot even close his heart completely.

Mace Hornard saw that one after another of ideas and plans were shattered in Anson's mind, and he kept looking for a way to escape from here.

But the chance of success was so slim that he could only give up in despair.

The strength gap between the two sides is so huge, like a chasm, there is almost no possibility of reversal, not even the slightest chance of a turning point.

Life and death are all in the palm of your hand.

It took fifteen steps to walk from where he was before Mace Hornard; Anson, who looked as usual, came up with thirty ways to escape in just fifteen steps; the black mage took these thirty ways one by one Calmly resolve.

No one spoke, and each other's smiles were reflected in the pupils facing each other, but sixty completely different battles ended in two consciousnesses that had no interaction at all.

The only thing in common is the ending.

Anson Bach, a fiasco without any suspense.

"Snapped."

Stopping in front of Mace Hornard, the smiling Anson took a deep breath and handed over the mechanical box:

"One of the twelve volumes of St. Isaac's Great Magic Book, dear Professor Mace Hornard, it is now yours."

"Dear Anson, I don't even know how to thank you."

The black mage, who was holding the brim of his hat, nodded lightly, and took the mechanical box with his right hand wearing white gloves: "I forgive you."

"Not only will I forgive you for betraying and killing my most trusted Bron, but also all your thoughts that shouldn't exist. I also forgive you."

An Sen was stunned for a moment, and then showed a somewhat ashamed expression, as if the student had been seen through by the teacher.

At the moment of handing over the mechanical box, An Sen, who bowed slightly, folded his right hand on the palm of the black mage, feeling the temperature transmitted through the gloves, and slowly propped up his four fingers, allowing the mechanical box to fall firmly into the black mage's palm. hands.

It's not an illusion, the person sitting in front of him is the real black mage, Mace Hornard, who has become a "blasphemy mage"... Desperate Anson thought so.

There is no way to win, his every move, including his thoughts, is under his watch and cannot be avoided; by himself alone, no matter how hard you try, it is just a futile struggle, no matter how much you think about it, there is no point. It will only make it more ugly to die...

"boom!"

Just as the palms of the two separated, hot lead bullets gushed out of the gunpowder with a loud noise, and flew screaming from behind Anson.

In an instant, Mace Hornard, who had not yet reacted, still looked into Anson's eyes. On his smiling face, the pupils behind the monocle kept shrinking inwards.

"Pfft!"

A severe tingling sensation came, and the lead bullet passed through the center of the palms of the two at the same time; the mechanical box that fell into the hands of the black mage flew into the air.

The black mage was suddenly startled, and his eyes quickly turned to the back of Anson, between the blood and minced meat that covered the floor and walls.

On the wall full of blood plasma and minced meat, a severed hand stuck to it stood up tenaciously, the "dagger" revolver clenched tightly in his hand, the muzzle still smoking slightly.

This is? !

Mace Hornard, whose right hand was blown by the lead bullet, flickered, and immediately saw Anson's blood-stained right hand had a silver-white dagger attached to the tip of the sword that made him feel extremely disgusted. He was stabbing sharply at his neck.

His right hand was fine, but just now he clearly saw that the lead bullet came from... ah, so it is...

The Black Mage, who had an instant insight, knew everything immediately: just as his right hand was about to explode, Anson had used [Mist of the Undead] to turn the contact surface between his palm and the lead bullet into smoke.

This is an operation that can only be accomplished with the conjurer's sense of distance and Jing Jue's keen insight.

At the moment when the dagger stabbed, the silver-white sword edge and the neck of the black mage brushed past with less than an inch deviation; An Sen, who was smiling, threw the dagger above his head without hesitation.

Sure enough... at the same time as he started, the black mage had already read all his thoughts.

The dagger collided with the falling mechanical box, and the splashing sparks threw the mechanical box against the wall full of blood and minced meat; another pale hand "stand up from the blood on the floor~www.novelmt.com" ~ Catch the box firmly.

Anson, who missed a hit, drew his gun decisively, and before he could unsnap the hammer, he saw the Black Mage raise his intact left hand and snapped his fingers lightly.

"boom!"

The sharp explosion instantly penetrated Anson's eardrums, and before he could even scream, he flew out like he was hit by a battering ram; the moment he landed, the entire field of vision turned blood red.

However, the black mage did not pursue him. With a shocked face, he dragged his pierced right hand and got up from the chair. The delicate armchair disappeared without a trace in the air as if it had been erased by an eraser.

In his unbelievable sight, the minced meat on the ground seemed to have been endowed with life, and gradually gathered in the blood plasma all over the ground, gathering... Like a puzzle, it was spelled out in the dark red blood. A pale-faced figure with a three-cornered hat holding a mechanical box in one hand and a gun in the other.

"Lawrence Bernat?"

Mace Hornard muttered to himself:

"So you discovered me from the very beginning, but you always pretended not to; even in order to cooperate with Ansen Bach's 'resurrection' trick, you deliberately showed flaws in front of Bron?"

"It's amazing... I have to admit, you are the first judge who deceived my eyes; your layered drama is really wonderful!"

"I'll return this to you as it is, Mace Hornard...or Lord Black Mage."

The expressionless Lawrence said coldly in his hoarse voice:

"After my 'Wild Hunter Bloodline' awakened, you were also the first spellcaster who almost killed me."

"We're even!"