School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 109 --The Second Duel - Owen versus Quincy
The world of [Prophecy] faded away, and Owen found himself once again in the vibrant, real world.
Quincy was pondering how to kill Owen, but Owen had already made his move, striking without warning.
"Quincy, we both held back in our last fight. Today, let’s battle with all our might," Owen declared, his hand balling into a fist as he lunged towards Quincy’s face.
Quincy inwardly cursed, "Owen’s temperament is truly bizarre, but I’m not afraid of you."
Despite being caught off guard by Owen’s sudden attack, Quincy’s experience shone through as he quickly raised his hand to block.
Owen’s fist was deflected, but Quincy’s palm, swift as a snake, aimed straight for Owen’s abdomen.
"Hmph," Owen’s eyes sparkled with a golden light, and a golden holy light radiated from him.
This light was not only effective against evil spirits but also exerted a suppressing force on ordinary beings, though it was weaker in this respect.
The true power of the golden holy light lay in its ability to enhance the user.
Quincy’s face twitched, realizing Owen was serious.
A mysterious, non-sticky, lubricious slime appeared in his hands, making him slippery and elusive.
Owen found it impossible to grasp him.
Punches landed on Quincy only to slide off, their force significantly reduced.
"Mr. Owen," Quincy spoke, his voice betraying the urgency he felt, far greater than Owen’s.
"Let’s not fight now. We can settle our matters later. Here and now, I sincerely apologize to you."
The two stood facing each other, Quincy’s words flowing ceaselessly.
"I was wrong before. With a formidable enemy at our gates, do you really want to let go of the Heart of the Ocean? With the help of the revered one, acquiring the Heart of the Ocean is a certainty. Bickering with me now is not a wise move."
"Our agreement still stands. Once the Heart of the Ocean is in my possession, I will unreservedly hand it over for the dragons’ use."
Owen’s face remained stern, his attacks growing more intense, like a violent storm relentlessly pounding Quincy.
Quincy found it increasingly difficult to cope.
Owen’s combat technique had improved remarkably fast.
He was already formidable, and after battling Quincy, he had gleaned valuable experience.
Combined with his mental rehearsals, Owen’s strength had reached a terrifying level.
In terms of combat technique alone, Owen had surpassed Quincy.
Sweat drenched Quincy’s forehead.
Gritting his teeth, he clashed palms with Owen and seized the opportunity to break away from the fight.
"Owen, you’ve forced my hand," he declared.
Activating the arcanergy within him, Quincy’s voice resonated with an eerie, urgent tone, "I didn’t want to kill you, but the situation has left me no choice. I can’t wait any longer."
A mist began to form around him, shrouding Owen in its enveloping haze.
A sense of foreboding rose in Owen’s heart.
As he attempted to break through the dense fog to reach Quincy, a venomous snake shot out from within it.
Owen’s palm transformed into a dragon claw, swiftly slicing the snake in two.
The serpent, upon its death, left no blood but dissolved into a wisp of green smoke.
"Is this a Domain?" Owen thought, a chill running down his spine.
"You truly are a grandmaster-tier powerhouse."
The Domain is a unique hallmark of a grandmaster.
There are five main characteristics that define a grandmaster-tier individual: exceptional martial skills, profound arcanergy, a unique aura, deep comprehension, and a legacy of creation and innovation.
Of these, the unique aura, or the Domain, is particularly noteworthy.
Within this Domain, a grandmaster seemingly creates a microcosm, a world where they reign supreme.
In this realm, the grandmaster’s mere thoughts become lethal weapons.
Within the confines of their Domain, no creature can defeat a grandmaster.
The only conceivable threat to a grandmaster in their Domain is another grandmaster, equally capable of manifesting their own realm.
Even Barlo, with his extraordinary talents and abilities, cannot transcend tiers in combat.
His limits are confined to slaying a master under the protection of a grandmaster.
It is only at the grandmaster-tier that one can possibly defeat a grandmaster.
However, slaying a grandmaster is a feat of immense difficulty; the recorded instances of grandmasters falling in battle on the Novalia continent can be counted on one’s fingers.
Quincy, with a stern countenance, declared, "I am Quincy, grandmaster of the sea serpent race.
Dying by my hand is a privilege for you.
I’ll do everything in my power to prevent your blood from sending a message back to the dragons.
I will ensure not a drop of your blood remains in this world."
A fierce determination sparked in Owen’s eyes as he shook his head resolutely, "Come then, let’s see your skills."
Far from being rash, Owen calculated his move.
Despite Quincy’s use of the Domain, Owen was confident that Quincy lacked true grandmaster-tier strength.
If Quincy possessed such power, why would he bother with these efforts?
He could simply extinguish Owen and his group with a flick of his finger.
Moreover, in the presence of the black protodragon, Quincy had shown restraint.
Clearly, this was his trump card.
The moment a player reveals their trump card is when they are most dangerous, yet also most vulnerable.
To show one’s final hand is an admission of nearing the end of one’s resources.
The Domain enveloped Owen, and he immediately felt a formidable sense of oppression.
It was as if a colossal mountain loomed above him, relentlessly pressing down upon his very being.
His body struggled to circulate arcanergy smoothly, and even the flow of his blood seemed obstructed, reminiscent of being under the influence of Stanbeck’s verbal incantation technique.
Yet, Owen knew he wasn’t at a dead end.
"Your trump card is much weaker than Stanbeck’s God Summoning Spell," Owen remarked, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
When Stanbeck had summoned the phantom of the neptune race, Owen had even contemplated the impossibility of counteraction – it was a suppression at the level of the soul, far more profound than Quincy’s methods.
"Hmph, it’s enough to kill you," Quincy retorted, unbothered, his hand moving with the commanding presence of a general leading his armies.
The fog in his domain rippled like water, clearly hiding countless dangers, all furiously converging on Owen.
Time was of the essence.
Owen, not one to be overconfident, let out an ancient dragon roar.
A burst of golden light shimmered, and as it faded, Owen had vanished.
In his place stood a majestic Gold Divine Dragon.
"A Gold Divine Dragon? You are a saint of dragons," Quincy gasped, his mind reeling as if struck by a heavy blow.
The realization that Owen was, in fact, a saint of dragons had never crossed his mind.
Images of Godwin flashed through Quincy’s mind.
Godwin must have encountered Owen, but he only mentioned Owen was among the dragons, never revealing that Owen was a saint of dragons.
A sudden realization struck Quincy, and a sorrowful smile curled at his lips: "Godwin, why go to such lengths? By inviting an outsider to harm our own, can you really remain detached?"
He deduced that Godwin had intentionally withheld Owen’s saintly status, aiming for Quincy to go all out and kill Owen.
The death of a saint of dragons in the Gosa Waters would undoubtedly incite fury, a fact impossible to conceal.
Should Owen perish, the dragons would receive visions of his final moments through their bloodline, a direct transmission to their minds.
This is the advanced race’s way of protecting their saints.
It’s also why advanced races allow their saints to roam freely without worry.
With such a safeguard, all races are compelled to treat the saints of advanced races with utmost respect.
If Owen were to die at Quincy’s hands, Godwin would surely pin the blame on the sea serpent race.
In such a scenario, the sea serpent race might face annihilation, leaving behind only a thin bloodline...
While Saintess Bessie might survive, without the backing of the sea serpent race, how far could she really go?
Having pieced everything together, Quincy’s face twisted into a bitter smile: "In the end, it’s betrayal by my own kind. Godwin, for the sake of neptune race’s dominance, you’ve truly outdone yourself."
The emergence of a saintess like Bessie in the sea serpent race naturally meant funneling all resources into her.
Even the sea races with noble intentions poured their hopes and futures into Bessie without reservation.
Godwin naturally feared that Bessie or Aldington, leading their respective groups, would elevate them to the status of an advanced race, thus dividing the rule of the Gosa Waters.
This would significantly diminish the status of the neptune race.
Thus, he concealed crucial information about Owen from Quincy, leading him to believe Owen was merely a common Yellow Dragon.
Owen observed Quincy’s mix of laughter and tears, a sense of alarm striking his heart: "What nefarious scheme is this old fox concocting now?"
But he had no energy left to ponder, besieged by an endless array of troubles.
Infinite sea serpents surged towards him relentlessly.
Although his wings could fling them away, they seemed immune to fatigue and pain, regrouping and attacking time and again.
Watching these sea serpents being slaughtered, Owen suddenly felt a connection with Stanbeck’s plight.
Just as Stanbeck couldn’t kill the black protodragon, he found himself unable to annihilate the sea serpents.
"What kind of curse is this!" he lamented.
Before long, Owen sustained injuries.
The sea serpents, coated in his scales, either bit at him or waited for gaps as his scales breathed to burrow into his flesh...
Their attacks weren’t merely physical but magical in nature.
His scales turned dark and lusterless, poisoned.
Indeed, the sea serpents were as venomous as rumored.
Feeling the increasingly difficult circulation of arcanergy within his body, Owen gritted his teeth, ready for a desperate struggle.
His body radiated a brilliant golden light, the Gold Divine Dragon enveloping him entirely.
Astonishingly, the Domain creaked and groaned like a tangible entity, producing a grating sound that set one’s teeth on edge.
