Chapter 75

Mastema and Evans.

The force of their combined fists shook the atmosphere, shattering all the glass in the hallway.

Shards of glass scattered across the floor.

Evans’ fist was deflected, and he was sent flying backward. Mastema, gazing curiously at the slight remaining shock in her fist, observed.

“As expected… even in my evolved form, I still can’t reach you.”

Evans adjusted his monocle and clenched his fists. His muscles creaked, swelling even more.

“My strength is surging. Ah, this—this is what I have been searching for.”

Mastema reached out to touch the magic flowing into Evans, but she couldn’t make contact or retrieve it. It seemed to be protected by some kind of mechanism.

“Heh, isn’t it strange, Mastema-kun?”

Mastema shifted her gaze from the magic to Evans.

“Is that the form you wanted?”

“Of course.”

Evans tilted his head curiously at Mastema’s question.

Mastema currently viewed humans as fascinating creatures. Individually weak, but their creativity and intellect, which brought forth culture, were worthy of admiration.

The hands that create such things are also remarkable. When Arnella strokes Mastema with her hand, Mastema feels an indescribable sense of delight.

Ahavain is also the perfect size for a hug pillow.

The boredom Mastema once felt in Hell was no longer present. Life here was far more pleasant.

In contrast, Evans’ current form appeared grotesque. From Mastema’s perspective, there was no sense in discarding a human form.

Was it even necessary for one to grow stronger?

Evans had referred to his form as an evolution. However, Mastema couldn’t comprehend what lay beyond that.

“This space is too cramped. Let’s go outside.”

With those words, Evans blew off the ceiling and floated into the sky. Mastema flapped her wings and followed him.

The night deepened, with only the moon illuminating Mastema.

Evans launched a punch. Mastema evaded and struck back with a forceful punch.

Each time she hit him, Evans was sent flying, but he quickly healed from the damage.

Mastema relentlessly pursued and struck him again. The impact sent Evans gliding through the air, and Mastema followed up with another punch.

When she blocked Evans’ counterattack, Mastema was sent flying far away, but she used her wings to slow her momentum.

With each passing moment, Evans was indeed growing stronger. He was gradually approaching Mastema’s current strength.

It seemed to bring him joy. Evans flashed a twisted smile, one he would never show in the classroom.

“Even a high-ranking demon… heh, just a little more. After I defeat you, what shall I do with you…?”

To Mastema, Evans was not someone of particular interest. The lectures he gave were boring.

Still, she didn’t dislike him enough to refuse sharing some jelly with him.

But now, Evans was nothing but repulsive. He had become no different from the vulgar, low-ranking demons of Hell.

If a human became a demon, there was no way they wouldn’t be consumed by that power. Evans’ eyes no longer displayed any intelligence.

“Hahaha, hahahahaha!”

Evans had finally caught up to Mastema’s strength. There was now a faint pain when their fists collided.

Since he managed to bypass her defense, it meant that Evans had reached a demonic level.

But that was Evans’ limit. His grotesquely swollen muscles couldn’t withstand the strain and began to necrotize. They regenerated instantly, but the cycle repeated with each influx of magic.

It was clear, even to Mastema, that Evans’ vessel had reached its limit.

What was the difference between Ahavain and Evans?

Mastema pondered. When she first saw Ahavain, she thought, frankly, that he was weak.

His magic was faint, his body fragile. He was so weak that a mere stroke could kill him.

Even when he gained the power of an angel, it was surprising, but he still wasn’t a match for Mastema.

A low-ranking angel posed no threat to a high-ranking demon.

Yet, every time, using all means, preparation, and methods available to him, Ahavain surpassed Mastema’s expectations.

And in the end, Ahavain was the one who won.

That was when Mastema became interested in humans. Yes, humans’ strength lies in something beyond pure power. It’s a quality Mastema now most desires.

To discard that strength for some brute force was something Mastema couldn’t agree with.

Perhaps Evans originally intended to become a demon while retaining human intelligence. But the result was this. In the end, he was no different from Lucora.

“That’s arrogance…”

Hell’s demonic magic is far too grotesque for humans. It warps their form and distorts their thoughts.

Evans no longer spoke. He had been consumed by Hell’s magic.

His trademark monocle fell to the ground.

Evans continued to force his necrotized muscles to regenerate with magic, causing further grotesque growth.

A human would have gone mad from the pain, but it seemed Evans had no self-awareness left. He had become nothing more than a beast, driven to rampage and consume.

Leaving him like this wasn’t an option.

In terms of strength, Evans was close enough to trouble the weakened Mastema. Even Hellfire wouldn’t work, as long as the flow of Hell’s magic wasn’t cut off, Evans would regenerate while burning.

“What a waste.”

With those words, Mastema drew out her thorned staff. It had become an excellent magic reservoir.

By storing the magic she generated daily within the staff, Mastema had created an external magic tank to compensate for her inability to fully recharge her own.

She learned this trick from humans. When something is missing, you simply supplement it.

Mastema grasped the thorned staff and activated it. Enough magic had already been stored to revive the Thorned King.

The Thorned King appeared behind Mastema. She was a beautiful woman, her body wrapped in thorns and thin cloth.

The Thorned King was now under Mastema’s control. Mastema siphoned magic from her. When the Thorned King hesitated slightly, Mastema forcibly took it.

Mastema’s magic was restored to full. The overwhelming power distorted the surrounding space.

She opened and closed her right hand several times, as if testing it.

“Ah, it’s been a while.”

With magic coursing through her body, Mastema returned to her peak form. Of course, using it would deplete it, and she would have to recharge again.

She swatted away Evans’ lunging right arm. Just that was enough to obliterate his right side.

Fragile. Ahavain, with the power of an angel, had been far tougher.

Evans’ right arm regenerated. At this rate, as long as any part of his body remained, he would continue to regenerate.

Mastema aimed her right hand at Evans.

“Goodbye, Professor Evans.”

She closed her right hand. In that instant, the space around Evans compressed.

Even if Evans had retained consciousness, he likely wouldn’t have understood what had happened.

For a brief moment, the sound of flesh and bone shattering echoed in the dark sky, and Evans’ form vanished.

In the dark sky over the magic academy, lit only by the moon, Mastema’s red eyes gleamed brilliantly.