Taking a direct hit from a double-layer Fireball Technique—even with the Elves' physical constitution far superior to humans'—severe injuries are inevitable. Even though the Elf Clan excels greatly in potion-making, getting out of bed would still take at least a month.

The extremely short distance means the one being attacked has no chance of reciting complex magic—even for simple defensive magic, time is extraordinarily urgent. Under immense mental pressure, mistakes become highly likely. And once a mistake is made, there's no escaping the strike anymore—no opportunity to retaliate at all.

For ordinary Elf Mages, this is nothing short of a nightmare. However, it remains only a nightmare for ordinary Elf Mages.

If Andrew were the one dealing with this, he'd have at least thirty different methods, more than fifty spells to counter perfectly. For someone like Amos, a Magic Master, it's even more so. Although his experience in magical duels is far inferior to Andrew's, he still has enough capability to handle such sudden situations.

However, this is only in theory. What can be achieved in theory doesn't mean it can be achieved in practice. When teetering between life and death, many variables change.

In that instant, scorching air rushed forward; Amos's vision was filled with dazzling flames. His beard fluttered lightly in the turbulent airflow, his mind went blank.

Holding his breath, his heart pounded violently. Among countless options, he instantly chose the worst method, yet the safest one—activating his protective ring.

The protective ring was his ultimate defense tool, a Tier-6 magical artifact, one that he would only use when backed into a corner. He had never used it once—not even a single time. After all, the only ones capable of pushing a Magic Master to this extent, apart from other Magic Masters, were probably Priests. Regardless of which, they were figures of great importance within the Elves, unlikely to randomly challenge him to a duel.

A blinding red light exploded from the ring instantly, filling everyone's eyes with a dazzling crimson glow.

A red shield accompanied by violent airflow rapidly expanded from Amos's body, not only deflecting the incoming fireball straight back but also shattering his own Triple Shield Technique.

Angel, who wasn't far from him, was directly blown away, while the apprentice mages spectating couldn't even open their eyes, stumbling and swaying.

A moment later, both the firelight and red glow dissipated.

Fallen leaves quietly burned on the ground, wisps of smoke rising into the air.

Amos stood dazed, unharmed yet somewhat bewildered.

The spectating apprentice mages were all in shock.

Angel lay quietly not far away, sprawled in a big cross shape, staring blankly at the sky.

After such intense turbulence, the entire world fell quiet.

The wind softly blew, stirring up the dust.

Everyone gazed with wide eyes, silently watching Angel lying motionless on the ground—even Amos included.

A mere pre-enrollment apprentice, managing to force a Magic Master to use his final life-saving artifact… At this moment, no one knew what to say anymore.

At this moment, no one had any doubts left about whether Angel was suitable for learning magic.

As time ticked by, second by second.

Someone asked in a hushed voice: "The shield broke… So, does that mean he passed?"

"But the shield was broken by Amos Mage himself, not broken by him… And Amos Mage wasn't even injured."

"But Amos Mage even used his protective ring."

"At the beginning, Amos Mage didn't say he wouldn't use other magic—or that the protective ring couldn't be triggered."

"This is unfair, far too unfair. If Amos Mage can use other magic and even a protective ring, then who could possibly break through his Triple Shield Technique? Even senior graduates wouldn't be able to do it, right?"

Someone couldn't help but shake their head: "This was never a fair exam from the start—it was unfair from the very beginning. I don't even understand why he agreed to take such a test, let alone fight so desperately to pass it…"

Indeed, no one understood. But Angel himself did—he had to pass this exam; there was no alternative path to take.

After a while, he wiped his face and slowly propped himself up with trembling hands.

His hair was disheveled, his clothes charred in large areas—collateral damage from the Fireball Technique's aftermath. Though his hair and eyebrows hadn't ignited, they were scorched thoroughly by the intense heat, now pressed close to his cheeks. With just a light touch, they would completely fall away.

In his entire life, he'd probably never looked as miserable as this.

"Perhaps…" the devil whispered softly in his ear, "perhaps you don't necessarily have to enroll. Even with just your brother's notes, you could still learn well. Like now, you've already surpassed most apprentice mages."

"But if I do that, I won't be able to prove myself. I won't be able to prove myself to my parents, and I certainly won't be able to prove myself to Sino… I… I must prove myself. I absolutely must… prove myself…"

Repeating these words like a mantra, as if giving himself courage or hypnotizing himself, he walked forward step by step, limping. His knees were already drenched in blood, his pants shredded beyond recognition.

The gentle breeze blew, stirring up the ash scattered on the ground, spreading across the broad training field like waves.

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