My smirk widens, showing some teeth as I slow my walk, tilting my head almost mockingly, as the proctor stops playing around at examinee levels, and brings out his family magical circle, the purple circle filled with geometric shapes swiveling in front of him, as the proctor pushes his hands forward, through the circle, sweat pouring down his face as he grits out, "Slap away this!"
He sends a wave of molten stone and lava rushing toward me across the ground, and I don't even blink as I lazily conjure a golden circular sigil in the air in front of my feet, stepping up onto it as if it were solid ground, then doing it again a foot up, as I casually walk into the air, avoiding the searing tide.
Sure, I could have just flown. I do have wings. But that wouldn't strike quite as satisfyingly, as casually strolling up and above the attack he wasted so much energy on.
"You'll have to do better than that, I'm afraid, to at least make this lowly servant work for it." I taunt, my voice smooth, unfazed, as I go so far as to put my hands in my pockets, standing in the air, looking down on him.
Snarling, he lifts both hands again, his magical circle disappearing as he gives up all finesse and extra control for pure power, and a massive sphere of condensed fire and lightning coalesces between his palms, roaring to life like a miniature sun.
"Oh?" I muse, tilting my head with a toothy grin. "Now that's a bit more like it."
Not really. It's more of the same. Somewhat impressive that he can combine elements and keep it that confined while pumping that much power into it, most devils really can't focus that well.
For me, it's like watching a kindergartener throw a tantrum and try to solve the problem by just tantruming harder.
I mean, what does he expect to have changed, really?
He hurls it forward, and I react, magic flowing effortlessly from my fingertips. Sigils flare into existence all around me instead of just on my arm, forming a shifting matrix of golden light. My magical circles rotate, align, and then, as the blazing mass comes upon me, expanding into a wave of destruction, they respond - an intricate chain reaction of sigils bursting outward, unraveling the attack before it can reach me in a shower of golden sparks.
"You craft such pretty lights, you've missed your calling as a party planner." I say lightly, waving a gloved hand before my face to whisk away the sparks.
His outrage whets my appetite for more. Am I a bully? Perhaps. But then nothing that feels this good could ever be wrong!
I go on the offensive. Showcasing how easily I can stop his attempts has run its course. Time to make him really sweat.
Magic circles ignite around me in a swirling cascade as I splay out my arms dramatically like a showman, my wings popping up behind me, a dark grin on my face, "My turn. Do try to make this interesting, I'd hate for this to be over too quickly."
The multitude of circles in different colours and configurations, cast an ethereal glow across the battlefield. A magic circle for each spell, for each element, the effect woven into the circle itself, strengthening the very idea of fire, ice, lightning, etc.
Why use one magical circle to boost you for all things and call it a day? When every spell could be enhanced and their formation sped up from the get go with some work?
From them, elemental devastation rains down as I laugh, eyes flashing with cruel glee - lances of water fly from one circle, only to flash-freeze into razor-sharp spears passing through another, arcs of lightning dance like coiled vipers bouncing between circles until they're nothing but a blur, as searing waves of fire explode outward in controlled bursts, the fireballs homing in on the desperately fleeing proctor. Each attack is designed to push him back, to herd him where I want him.
Because I am far from just a fool calling down a rain of destruction with no purpose.
And if the spells maybe burn/slice/dice/electrocute him a little more then what is practically necessary…
Well, I'm only a reincarnated devil, how am I to know the pureblood couldn't hack it.
He fights to counter even as he flees, but I see it - the frustration, the fear, the cracks in his confidence as my attacks slip past his defenses, grazing his skin, searing him, even as he throws up defenses haphazardly, his magic falling apart with his mind losing focus.
And then, just as he thinks he regains his footing, as my barrage slows down, he realizes too late that that too is part of my plan.
The ground beneath him glistens, a thin sheen of water left from my previous spells, the ice spears that herded him, missing him, having melted by my fireballs, the liquid pooling unnoticed at his feet. A trap, subtle and patient.
I lift a hand, and the water reacts as the magic circle I planted under it activates, surging upward, turning to ice in an instant. Chains of frozen tentacles wrap around his arms, his legs, dragging him down, pinning him where he stands. Spiked tendrils coil around his torso, forcing him into stillness at the threat of making swiss cheese out of him.
He struggles, his breath coming harsh now, his pride fighting against the realization that he's lost.
I could have defeated him immediately of course, but I need to impress one of the suspected watchers, and just using overwhelming power wouldn't have been enough.
"I…" He grits his teeth, eyes burning with anger. "I yie-"
The proctor's face is a storm of conflicting emotions - shame, rage, humiliation. It's delicious.
But I'm not done.
With a dramatic snap of my fingers, the ice shatters, releasing him. He stumbles, catching himself, glaring at me with barely contained fury. His shame and rage growing due to how casually I'm treating him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, were you saying something?" I inquire mildly.
He opens his mouth, before snapping it shut with force, I can hear his teeth grinding, a vein popping on his forehead as he glares up at me. No longer willing to announce his forfeit.
I roll my shoulders, and crack my knuckles, as I step down to the ground again. My magical circles all dissipating.
"That was fun I suppose, for an aperitif," I say lightly. "But let's see how you hold up in a physical bout."
Badly.
He'll hold up badly.
I'm going to enjoy this.
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