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"This draw is seriously unlucky!"
When Xiong Dezheng first arrived at the competition venue, he was brimming with fighting spirit. But after the drawing concluded, a hint of worry crept onto his face.
He had drawn number eight. And his first opponent? None other than the guy carrying half of the Southern Heaven Gate on his back.
"Well, damn. This one's a tough nut to crack."
He wasn't the type to back down before a fight—after all, he had made it to the final twelve. If he wanted to win, if he wanted the championship, he'd have to face that guy sooner or later. But running into such a formidable opponent in the very first round? That was frustrating, to say the least.
"I kinda wanna see for myself if he's really that damn strong." Muttering to himself, Xiong Dezheng stepped down from the stage, plopped his big rear next to Harry, and leaned over to peek at the number in his hand. "What number did you get?"
"Still number one."
"Whoa, number one is nice and easygoing." Xiong Dezheng's large eyes scanned the area. Before the draw, the judges had already randomized and published the matchups for different numbers. So as soon as the contestants received their numbers, they immediately knew who their opponents would be.
"It's a Russian girl!" His gaze landed on a strikingly tall blonde woman warming up nearby. Wearing nothing but a tube top on her upper body, she stood out in the prep area. Before their "expiration date," Russian girls had some of the best looks around. But the ones who made it here? Their fists were even deadlier than their beauty.
She had the delicate, ice-like complexion of a goddess—but add a six-pack like Sanye's, and the impact was something else entirely.
"Don't go easy on her just 'cause she's a girl. Back in school, we had a few Russian girls in our class. Their punches? Hard as steel! One time, some drunken punk from the neighboring class tried to harass one of them. She sent him flying with a single kick—dude soared two stories high! It was brutal."
Xiong Dezheng instinctively clenched his legs together at the memory. Every guy who witnessed that incident had nightmares for days.
"Hiss—"
Harry, who also found himself crossing his legs, sucked in a breath of cold air. "Wait… He really flew that high?"
"Heh, what do you think? You think he just flapped his arms and flew off on his own?"
After Xiong Dezheng's horrifying (and sweat-inducing) tale, Harry became even more cautious about the upcoming match. He had initially planned to use the tournament as a way to practice his Pandaren-style hard punches, but now… If he actually tried that, he might just get wrecked.
With the draw completed, the contestants had thirty minutes to warm up. The first match was between Harry (Number One) and Anastasia Wilkinskaya (Number Nine).
In front of Harry—who could almost reach two meters in height—Anastasia, with her 1.2-meter-long legs, seemed quite petite. Yet, for the first time, he felt a tinge of nervousness.
'This is all Xiong Dezheng's fault,' Harry grumbled internally. 'Messing with my mindset before a fight. So what if that dude flew? Everyone's got a pair of wings in their heart, don't they?'
Standing in the ring, Harry finally took a good look at his opponent. Anastasia had no weapon in hand—no gun, no advanced artillery like the upgraded cannon Ivan had demonstrated for him. She was practically wearing nothing but four pieces of cloth: a tube top, a pair of short shorts, and two silvery bandage-like wraps around her hands.
Something about that silvery sheen seemed familiar… but before he could dwell on it, the starting gun fired.
The instant the signal rang out, Anastasia vanished—moving so fast it was as if she had teleported. Harry barely dodged the visible slash of an airborne strike. Her long, snow-white legs traced an elegant arc in midair, her toes slicing through the air with a speed that the wind itself couldn't keep up with, forming a blinding white crescent.
A low chant echoed as dozens of spell glyphs flickered to life in her palms. Before his very eyes, her already well-defined muscles tensed even further. A chilling wind wrapped around her body, and within her icy-blue pupils, it was as if frozen rivers began to flow.
In the blink of an eye, her minimal clothing was replaced by full-body armor, covering her entirely. As if in sync with a fleeting illusion, her frosty skin gave way to pure white fur, while silver armor protected every vital spot. She lowered herself slightly, a nearly one-meter-long tail swaying gently behind her, stabilizing her balance as she moved at lightning speed.
Within a single moment, she had stacked layers upon layers of enhancement spells, maximizing her buffs, and seamlessly transitioned into the second stage of her Animagus transformation. Her movements were as fluid and powerful as a panther's.
Among the feline family, if tigers symbolized raw strength, then leopards embodied sheer agility!
Her form blurred as she disappeared from the ring. Meanwhile, in midair, streaks of silver claw marks slashed through Harry's afterimage.
His hastily conjured Protego shield barely had time to react before the silver claws struck. The moment they made contact, Harry knew something was wrong!
The spells cast with Awakened Magic were significantly stronger than ordinary wizard spells. A normal seventh-year student could bombard this shield for half an hour without breaking it. Yet now, it was warping the second it was touched!
'This isn't just cutting through…!'
A flash of realization struck Harry—he finally recognized that familiar silver sheen.
'Magic Beast Leather… A new material born from its fusion with other elements?'
His midair illusion was torn apart in an instant.
'So they kept its ability to rapidly absorb magic… Maxed out its anti-magic properties, huh?'
These claws were the bane of all spellcasters—a nightmare for anyone relying on magic defenses. They didn't just break through shields; they devoured the magic itself, destabilizing any spell at its core. Even Awakened Magic, though harder to digest, was still vulnerable. Their sheer sharpness alone was enough to shred a hastily conjured Protego.
If Harry had been a melee-focused wizard, Anastasia—whose agility and pursuit skills were maxed out—would've been his worst matchup. The arena wasn't huge, and even with his skilled Apparition, as long as he remained confined within the 50x50-meter space, she could close the distance in an instant. She moved like she was running on air, leaving afterimages as she closed in, her lethal claws poised for an eviscerating strike.
Harry's agility was tied to his Apparition technique. At this stage, his raw speed was still slightly lacking compared to his overwhelming strength—a fact that contributed to his "reckless brute" reputation.
But who wouldn't play dumb when needed?
Harry was never a brawler. He had only resorted to close combat because it gave him the upper hand against Voldemort's remnants, whose spellcasting skills far surpassed his own. Snape's potions couldn't make Harry an equal in magical technique—but they could let him punch Voldemort's face in.
Now, gripping his ebony and ivory wands tightly, he felt like he was back in his sparring session with Professor Flitwick two days ago.
"A wizard," Harry murmured, repeating Flitwick's long-standing advice, "…should always win with elegance."
"The one running around shouldn't be me."
As he flickered out of reach with Apparition, he raised his wand.
"It should be you."
"Sectumsempra!"
In an instant, hundreds of invisible blades filled the arena.
Sensing the deadly threat, Anastasia twisted midair, her body flickering as she dodged, slashing at the incoming blades with her claws. But as she turned her gaze back toward Harry—
The white ivory wand was gone.
In its place—
A compact, unassuming Uzi submachine gun.
The Explosion Curse is a fascinating spell that stands out from the rest. Unlike other upgraded spells that often come with additional effects, every advanced version of this spell focuses solely on enhancing its explosive power and range—nothing more, nothing less.
It's simple and pure, yet incredibly effective.
Within the spell repertoire, there exists an interesting combination:
Flying Dust Storm → Thunderous Explosion → Roaring Detonation.
This trio of explosion spells, ranked from weakest to strongest, forms a complete spell chain. When used together, their combined effect doesn't just summon an almighty ancestor—it conjures a one-and-a-half-meter-wide explosion with the destructive force equivalent to half an ounce of High-Energy Plastic Blast Potion IV. In other words, it matches the power of 3.5 fully stacked high-level Explosion Curses (Roaring Detonation), yet it only consumes a third of the required magical energy.
And the moment the trigger of the Uzi submachine gun was pulled, warm, glowing spheres instantly filled every inch of space in the dueling arena—countless in number, leaving no gaps whatsoever.
"Art is—"
A crisp snap of the fingers echoed through the air. A blinding firestorm erupted.
"—explosion."
"If I don't want my 'Kunkun' to be sent flying two stories high, I have no choice but to keep you at a distance, lady."
In a confined duel arena, no matter how agile or swift one might be, wide-area spells with splash damage are nearly impossible to dodge completely.
Though Anastasía's Phase-Two Animagus transformation and Alchemical Armor granted her incredible resilience, they were designed for mobility rather than endurance. Her defenses were high—high enough to prevent a one-hit kill—but they weren't thick enough to withstand a relentless barrage of explosions.
Amidst the stunned silence and twitching expressions of the audience, Anastasía was pinned to the ground by the shockwaves and scorching flames. Within mere seconds, she completely lost the ability to move.
For a full thirty seconds, the roaring explosions nearly deafened the spectators. Through the lingering black smoke, a figure hovered midair like a demon born from fire and destruction, using sheer brute force to mercilessly crush the elegance of his opponent.
"You monster!!!"
Anastasía's die-hard fans nearly stormed the stage to beat Harry senseless, but the brutality of the scene unfolding before them left them hesitating.
Exhausted from nearly draining his magic reserves, Harry finally ceased his attack. However, since the referee had yet to announce the match's end, it meant—
A piercing silver light suddenly cut through the smoke, sending Anastasía's devoted fans into a frenzy. The pent-up frustration in their hearts longed to see Harry beaten to a pulp.
Yet, just as their hopes soared, the man who was on the brink of magical exhaustion simply took a deep breath—and his mana pool replenished by a third in an instant.
Emerging from the smoke, Anastasía looked battered and bruised. Her armor was in tatters, but her eyes still gleamed with an unwavering sharpness.
Harry remained silent as he slowly raised the barrel of his ebony wand.
At that moment, he confirmed something—the ivory wand was only good for clearing out small fry. When it came to breaking through defenses, ebony was the true king.
A muffled gunshot echoed.
The lethal claws poised to sever Harry's legs clashed against an invisible crimson curse.
Anastasía's sharp, silvery claws could tear through magical shields with ease, yet the red glow pierced straight through her defenses, striking her forehead.
Harry had held back—compared to his deadlier spells, the Stunning Curse was a merciful choice. But, since Anastasía had layered herself with buffs, one direct hit wouldn't be enough to knock her out completely.
For a brief moment, her gaze dulled.
The next instant, clarity returned.
The attack meant to end the fight should have worked, but she was still moving.
The razor-sharp deathblow in her claws did not stop.
"Damn you, Xiong Dezhen, you were right! She really is trying to send my Kunkun flying two stories high!"
Feeling like he had just been taught a painful lesson, Harry's expression turned cold.
He discarded the last shred of unnecessary mercy.
"Sectumsempra."
His voice was calm.
An invisible blade tore through her alchemical armor.
A crimson mist erupted from her body.
"Match over!"
The instant a scarlet protective shield enveloped Anastasía, the referee declared the match's end.
A medical response team materialized in midair, swiftly catching her as she fell. No longer able to maintain her Animagus form, her transformation reversed upon impact. As she reverted to her human state, the remnants of her shattered alchemical armor crumbled away, revealing the gruesome wound beneath—a clean, deep cut running from her shoulder down to her side, nearly splitting her in half.
Harry had just been about to dispel his own Sectumsempra effect and remove the residual Awakened Magic from the wound. But the moment the red shield faded, something astonishing happened—
All traces of his magic disappeared.
Even his uniquely powerful Awakened Magic vanished without a single remnant.
The emergency treatment lasted no more than five seconds.
After receiving a few injections and being treated with unfamiliar spells, Anastasía slowly sat up, clutching her chest and breathing heavily.
Despite just surviving a near bisection, she stared at Harry with a different look in her eyes.
"You're the first one to ever—"
She walked toward him, reaching out a hand, seemingly intending to shake his.
Before she could finish her sentence, Harry pointed to the side.
"I have a girlfriend. She's prettier than you. Not interested. Thanks."
Without even shaking her hand, Harry turned and bolted.
No way in hell was he getting "acquainted" with the same girl who almost turned him into a eunuch.
"You narcissistic bastard, I wasn't—"
Anastasía gritted her teeth in frustration, almost cracking them. But when she followed Harry's gaze…
She saw Fleur Delacour staring daggers at her from the sidelines.
Her face darkened instantly.
With a sigh, she silently walked off the stage.
Fleur's second critical hit of the night left Anastasía feeling utterly defeated.
(End of Chapter)