Lord Denzel was revered for several reasons.
One was, of course, due to his great power and skill as a Mage. He was one of the few who could cast Tier 9 Magic—the highest attainable by man.
However, that wasn't all there was to the old man.
He was well renowned as a scholar before gaining such heights in Magic. Unlike his very close acquaintance who was naturally gifted with godlike talent, Denzel had to utilize his intellect to make it to his current status.
Thus, he understood the importance of the environment—among other things—in a confrontation between two Mages.
If a Water Mage was going to confront a person, such a Mage had to choose a location with much moisture. If an Earth Mage desired battle, he would have to choose a well-grounded region.
Mages generally required locations that suited their capabilities and affinities. Then... what about Denzel? How did this apply in the current situation?
As the murals of the walls—Runes that served various functions—glowed, and the Magic Items all around him activated, Denzel obeyed the principle of Magic Warfare he postulated.
"You're in my place of power, stranger..."
Denzel narrowed his eyes as he remained in his seat. In his current predicament, it was clear who had the advantage. In fact, everything was premeditated—designed to give him the ultimate edge and victory.
"... Now answer my question."
The man who identified himself as Noir Novo remained fixed in a single spot. Not only did he appear unfazed, but his apathy to address someone of Denzel's standing with common courtesy bothered the old man.
Only those with power were entitled to such right.
'We're both Tier 9. it's possible he's stronger. If he continues his suspicious behavior, I'll have to capture him.'
Questions could always be asked at a different time.
"You're just as shrewd as they say. Unfortunately for you, I have my reasons for coming here and approaching you. If you desire to know my true identity, you'll have to pry it out of m—"
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As usual, Denzel was correct.
Even with the defenses he put in place, Denzel could feel the enormous impact of his Spell. His body shook and his bones were rattled.
Even the caster of the Spell knew just the amount of destruction he would have wrought if such a thing was allowed free reign. As a result, he was able to witness the compartmentalized arrow's blast completely pierce and eviscerate the target.
"Why didn't you offer another defense? Don't tell me I killed you already..." The old man finally left his seat by allowing the wind underneath him to raise his body.
Levitating in the air, he allowed himself to draw closer to the quarantined site of destruction, observantly staring at the remains.
"He's... not here...?"
There were two options that popped into Denzel's mind.
One was that the mysterious man was completely destroyed by the attack—and that was totally reasonable and plausible. Noir's barrier had already been sustaining damage when Denzel's blades were attacking. There was no way they could have withstood his strongest possible attack in such conditions.
Even though this was his place of power, it was still plenty restrictive fighting indoors.
Still, Denzel found it unconvincing that someone of Noir's caliber couldn't have cast a corresponding defensive Spell that would—at the very least—soften the blow of his attack.
'Maybe he was out of Mana? Casting a Tier 9, and then a Tier 8 Spell within such a short interval can be draining. He must have had a very limited Mana Pool...'
There were five Mages who had attained Tier 9 in the Empire, yet only he and his friend could use them properly and conveniently. The major reason was because of their Mana Pool restriction—though there were a few other factors.
Even he—Archmage of the Magic Institute—couldn't use more than two Tier 9 Magic Spells in a row. As for his trump card... he could only ever use it once.
'That's why a place of power is important. I've hardly expended any Mana since we began our match.' Denzel carefully watched the sizzling ground, yet there was still no sign of Noi Novo. Was he really destroyed?
Well, there was a second option.
'He escaped?' The old Archmage wondered.
But that was even more implausible than his first hypothesis.
'The Runes around prevent teleportation Magic, and even Tier 9 Teleportation will be delayed before it can be used. Besides, if he bypassed the Runes, I would have been informed.'
His [Grand Luminous Arrow Of Judgement] was impossible to evade. Even his friend who was far stronger and more skilled at using Magic had to comment on how he would rather face the Spell head-on, rather than avoid it.
As such, if Noir was unable to teleport away, and he was nowhere to be seen, then... he had to be dead.
"Such a shame. I would have liked to know more about yo—"
"It's not too late."
Noir's chilling tone caused Denzel's eyes to widen in shock. His body nearly jumped and he felt a strong chill behind him.
'What is this? Bloodlust?!' Denzel's gaze tilted behind him, only to see Noir there.
His hand was coated in dark energy, and judging by his speed, Denzel realized he didn't even have enough time to think or wonder how the young man was able to do the impossible. If he didn't act fast, he wouldn't ever have the chance to think any longer.
Which was why...
"... [Magic Territory]"