"Duel me! If you win, say whatever you want about us. But if you lose, you'll apologize to us loudly in front of the entire school!"
The moment Sherlock finished her words, she raised her hand and pointed. Instantly, the Hungarian Horntail lunged at Hoffa with lightning speed.
It spread its wings, powered forward with its hind legs, and moved like a bolt of lightning.
Always alert, Hoffa slammed his foot onto the ground and leapt into the air, soaring above the dragon. He jumped onto a table, then higher still—stepping on the Horntail's back in a series of quick bounds.
The Hungarian Horntail missed its target, and its neck twisted 180 degrees as it spewed a stream of fiery breath.
The firelight illuminated Hoffa's face.
At the same time, Sherlock flicked her wand. "Trident!"
A jet of water burst from her wand, transforming mid-air into a gleaming trident that shot directly toward the boy suspended in the air.
Hoffa, mid-leap, had no way to change direction. On one side, fiery dragon breath blazed toward him; on the other, the watery trident hurtled through the air.
But before either the fire or the spell struck him, Hoffa vanished into thin air. The flames passed through where he had been, and the trident spell crashed to the ground, dispersing into a pool of water.
Seeing him disappear, Sherlock didn't seem surprised. She swiftly retreated, moving in an instant to the staff table at the far end of the hall, her back against the wall.
Hoffa landed and moved like a streak of lightning. He didn't want to drag this out—he aimed to end this pointless farce as quickly as possible. Closing the gap between them in an instant, he leaned forward and reached for Sherlock's head with his outstretched hand.
But as he approached, he noticed the cold smirk on Sherlock's face. Silently, she mouthed the words, "I knew it!"
In the next moment, Hoffa's hand plunged straight through Sherlock's icy head, scattering a spray of water.
Splash! Her entire figure dissolved into liquid, allowing Hoffa's hand to pass harmlessly through.
The liquid didn't spill away; instead, it solidified into ice in an instant.
Hoffa's heart sank. Elemental Assimilation Charm! He had underestimated her.
His arm froze in place at lightning speed. Though his Phantom Step could evade harm, it couldn't escape restraints!
Meanwhile, the Hungarian Horntail gave him no respite. It charged with its head lowered, its spiked neck making it resemble a raging rhinoceros.
Hoffa vaulted off the icy figure, attempting to bait the dragon into smashing the ice.
But the ice reverted to liquid again, removing his foothold mid-air. Hoffa lost his balance and, still partially trapped by the ice, plummeted toward the ground.
The dragon's razor-sharp tail lashed out, slicing toward Hoffa's face like a blade.
He couldn't adjust his posture in time. With no choice, Hoffa converted his magic into a life shield, summoning a circular barrier around his arm.
Screech!The sound of the tail meeting the shield was like steel ripping through fabric. The immense force sent both Hoffa and the dragon stumbling backward. Hoffa crashed against the house table, steadying himself with a chair before regaining his footing. His arm trembled slightly as he dispelled the shield.
The Hungarian Horntail tumbled three times before recovering. Its yellow eyes fixed on Hoffa, unyielding and ferocious.
Touching his face, Hoffa felt a sharp sting. The shield had blocked most of the damage, but it had been hastily formed, and the dragon's tail had still left a deep gash across his cheekbone. Blood streamed from the wound.
He thought grimly, No wonder it's a dragon. Even at just a few months old, its power is terrifying.
In less than two exchanges, Hoffa had already suffered a solid blow under the combined assault of a wizard and a dragon.
On the ground, the liquid reformed into Sherlock's figure. She stood there, her golden hair glinting, her breathing steady despite the intensity of the duel. Squinting at Hoffa, she taunted, "Is that all, Bach? You're such a disappointment."
Hoffa glanced around. The students had completely encircled them, leaving no room to escape. The fervor in their eyes grew more intense, their breathing ragged. The Great Hall had transformed into a furnace of madness. The reason for the fight no longer mattered to them—they only wanted a result. They wanted to see one side fall. Until that happened, no one would leave.
Hoffa's heart raced as the oppressive atmosphere gnawed at him.
"Hope's star, Hogwarts' shining shield? Hah! Do you know what I think of you?"
Sherlock flicked her wand, and droplets of water materialized in the air, hovering and motionless.
"You're arrogant, indifferent, always playing the spectator. You don't deserve the place you're in!"
Hoffa's heart sank as he observed the suspended droplets. Her meticulousness was alarming. If he moved, even if he used his Phantom Step to evade harm, he'd expose his position.
Sherlock tilted her head and smiled. "Figured it out, huh? I know your Displacement Charm is remarkable, Bach. This is tailored just for you."
Hoffa: "Have you made me your imaginary nemesis?"
Sherlock: "Not at all. I just respect every opponent."
With that, the Hungarian Horntail spread its wings. With a powerful flap, its four-meter-long body shot toward Hoffa, faster than ever.
Hoffa clasped his hands together, and stone hands burst from the ground, reaching for Sherlock in the distance.
He had figured it out—the dragon was essentially an extension of Sherlock. The only way to end this was to neutralize her.
As expected, the tamed dragon immediately switched targets, redirecting to protect its master.
Sherlock noticed Hoffa's strategy as well. At the same moment the stone hands emerged, she rolled across the ground, clutching her wand between her teeth. Pressing her palms against the floor, she inscribed a series of glowing runes across the ground.
"Oil-Fire Swamp!"
The ground covered by runes instantly turned into a pitch-black swamp. Hoffa sank into it immediately, the muck swallowing him up to his waist within moments.
Reacting instantly, Hoffa extended massive Thunderbird wings from his back and gave a powerful flap. The force propelled him upward, straight out of the mire.
Sherlock sneered coldly and gave the order without hesitation: "Now, Buck!"
The Hungarian Horntail opened its maw and unleashed a blast of dragon fire.
The five-meter-long stream of flames illuminated one corner of the hall in an instant.
The dragon fire snaked across the swamp, igniting it. Hoffa instinctively activated his Phantom Step, but this time it failed to shield him from harm. As he escaped the swamp, the oily muck clung to his body, catching fire. Flames erupted across his lower half, making it impossible to evade. The scorching heat threatened to reduce him to ashes.
He immediately canceled his shadow state, no longer wasting magic.
The battle had reached a fever pitch, and the atmosphere in the hall grew more frenzied.
"Vine Lash!"
Sherlock flicked her wand again, and the burning swamp transformed into a mass of spreading vines. The tendrils whipped around Hoffa's limbs, binding him tightly.
The Hungarian Horntail seized the opportunity. With a ferocious roar, it reared its two-meter-tall body and lunged for Hoffa's neck, its jaws wide open in a hunter's precise strike.
In a split-second decision, Hoffa tilted his head, fully exposing his neck to the dragon.
No one had anticipated this seemingly suicidal move. Gasps erupted from the crowd, some students covering their mouths in shock. Even Sherlock was caught off guard, unable to issue a counter-command in time.
The Horntail didn't hold back, biting down savagely.
Clang!
The anticipated spray of blood never came. Instead, a sharp metallic sound echoed as the dragon's fangs left only pale marks on Hoffa's neck. The force of the bite broke three of the dragon's teeth.
"Hiss!"
"Oh my god!"
Some students covered their eyes, unable to watch. Others, less emotionally resilient, nearly fainted.
From a distance, Aglaea, watching the scene unfold, pressed a hand to her mouth, her heart pounding.
Sherlock's expression turned grim. She saw the dragon's jaws being pried apart by Hoffa's hands. The boy's entire head had turned a shiny metallic silver, the sheen spreading rapidly down his body. His wings retracted as his entire form transformed into solid metal.
Hoffa gripped the dragon's jaws with unyielding force, like an iron vice. The dragon writhed and roared in pain, but its efforts were futile.
Its throat convulsed, and the air around them grew scorching hot.
Boom!
A burst of orange-red dragon fire engulfed Hoffa completely.
Yet he didn't flinch or retreat, holding firmly onto the dragon's head while being bathed in the flames. The sight made several students clench their fists nervously.
The intense heat even made Sherlock curse silently. What a lunatic! I can't even handle this heat from a distance—what is he thinking?!
For nearly thirty seconds, the standoff between man and dragon continued, with the dragon spewing fire relentlessly. Finally, its strength waned, and it stopped its fiery assault.
Hoffa now glowed a fiery orange-red, every strand of his hair resembling molten metal. Still holding the dragon's head, he converted his magic into life force and slammed his forehead into the dragon's skull.
Thud!
The impact was deep and resonant.
The young dragon, still immature, reeled from the metallic headbutt. Dazed, it stumbled backward and collapsed to the ground.
Without wasting a moment, Hoffa clenched his right fist, summoning stone restraints that shot from the ground, binding the Horntail tightly. He glanced at his watch, noting his rapidly depleting magic reserves, and vanished on the spot.
"Damn it!"
Seeing her dragon subdued, Sherlock gritted her teeth and waved her wand again. Ripples of water surrounded her, and as Hoffa's arm shot toward her neck, her body transformed into liquid once more.
But the searing heat of his molten form turned the liquid into a thick cloud of steam.
Sherlock's face soured as she finally understood his strategy. So that's why he willingly endured the dragon fire for half a minute... Clever.
Seeing that the intense heat was harming her, Hoffa knew his gamble had paid off. Without hesitation, he channeled his remaining magic and expanded his psychic field to its maximum.
Pillars of stone erupted from the ground, weaving together in the air to form a tightly sealed stone cage, enclosing both of them.
Inside the cage, Sherlock quickly retreated and reverted to her human form. She clutched her scalded, reddened neck, panting heavily as she glared at Hoffa.
Standing across from her, Hoffa panted and said, "I've figured it out. When you're in your elemental assimilation state, you can't cast spells. Am I right?"
"Oh? And how long can your transformation spell last?"
Sherlock gritted her teeth and sneered. "Without the dragon's breath, how long can the heat on your body last?"
"Is that so?"
Hoffa gestured around them. "Try using your elemental assimilation in a place completely devoid of water."
Sherlock's expression shifted.
"I've observed how you use your abilities. Earlier, you summoned a trident and later created a large number of water droplets. Your purpose wasn't just to restrict my movements—it was to create a water-rich environment around you, making it easier for you to use elemental assimilation to evade damage. So, I'm guessing you can't assimilate unless you're in contact with water."
There was a moment of silence before Sherlock replied bitterly, "I take back my earlier judgment. You really are something."
"Thank you for the compliment. Now that I've isolated us from the others outside, can we call a truce?"
"Truce?" Sherlock's face twisted into a mocking smirk. "Is that for your sake or theirs?"
Hoffa was momentarily taken aback.
Sherlock continued, "You're still trying to play the observer. Don't you get it yet? In this school, no one can live detached from everything!"
With that, a sharp psychic force erupted. The stone cage formed by Hoffa's Shattered Grip spell began to crumble, shattering into fragments.
Hoffa felt the overwhelming force of conviction radiating from Sherlock, a power unlike anything he had encountered before.
He glanced at his watch and inwardly cursed. His earlier body transformation had drained a significant amount of magic, and maintaining his enhanced state had consumed much of his mental energy. He no longer had the strength for a prolonged battle.
The two fell from the collapsing cage to the ground, where the surrounding students erupted into a deafening roar of excitement.
Amid the cheering, Sherlock leaped high into the air, stepping on shattered stones. In her hand, water coalesced into a sharp spear.
As her golden hair danced wildly in the air, Hoffa conjured a narrow shield to defend himself.
But at that moment, an unexpected turn of events occurred.
While mid-air, Sherlock was suddenly struck down, slammed into the ground as if an invisible iron fist had hit her squarely in the face.
Behind her, the crowd erupted into earth-shaking cheers, looking at Hoffa as if he were a champion holding a trophy.
Hoffa froze in place, staring at his own fist. He hadn't even attacked—he'd merely taken a defensive stance. So why had Sherlock been sent flying?
The answer came quickly.
Amid the roaring crowd, a thin, wiry boy strode in from the hall's entrance. His expression was stern and slightly annoyed. It was Fatir Drasses.
The arrival of a professor instantly subdued the crowd. The fervor in the air dissipated as the students began to disperse.
Sherlock propped herself up on her arms, struggling to rise from the ground. The magical aura around her had completely vanished, and blood was trickling from her nose.
Standing before her, the gaunt, rod-like figure of Fatir exhaled a plume of smoke and spoke in a cold, detached voice. "Utterly disappointing. Can't even endure criticism?"
"Professor, I..."
"I didn't teach you dragon taming so you could show off. It's to maintain order and stability. Now, take your dragon and do what you're supposed to do."
Fatir's voice carried no warmth.
"Yes," Sherlock replied.
Before the man who had just rebuked her, the once defiant Sherlock seemed like a completely different person. She lowered her head and walked toward her bound Hungarian Horntail.
Hoffa silently released the dragon from its Shattered Grip bindings. The Horntail snorted as it broke free, circling Hoffa with a curious gaze before giving a dismissive snort and returning to its handler.
Sherlock followed her dragon, her expression dazed and defeated.
Fatir walked to the dragon taming team's table, where the students stood stiffly at attention.
"Why didn't you intervene? Lost all sense of reason?" Fatir asked coldly.
The dragon taming team lowered their heads in silence.
"Leave," Fatir commanded flatly.
The team filed out one by one. As they reached the door, Hoffa noticed Fatir glance at him. Though his face was expressionless, there was an indefinable trace of sympathy in his eyes.
Before Hoffa could fully process the meaning of that look, Fatir and the dragon taming team had left the school hall, disappearing into the icy drizzle of the cold night.
(End of Chapter)
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