A low, nearly imperceptible tremor rippled throughout the Constantine Estate.

Before most of the cultists even had time to react, the ground beneath their feet convulsed violently, surged upward with a monstrous goan.

Its texture rapidly shifted, turning murky and unstable… like corrupted quicksand.

Caught off guard, many of the weaker Magi were instantly ensnared. They thrashed and clawed in desperation, but the more they struggled, the faster they sank into the rising, undulating mound of earth.

Their miserable cries were choked as the earth claimed them one by one.

Within moments, over a dozen Mana Liquefaction Magi had vanished, dragged down by an unseen force.

Then, the earth trembled once again, pulling its prey deeper still. In mere seconds, all traces of them were gone, swallowed whole by the cold, unrelenting embrace of the land.

All that remained in its wake was a slick, oil-like residue coating the ground. It was a dark, glistening stain upon the earth where the living quicksand had surged moments ago.

The patch of land now stood eerily silent, as if nothing had happened. The surviving dozen or so cultists—all of them, naturally, Mana Vortex Magi—glanced at the dark patch of land with grim expressions.

Then, they shifted their gaze towards the elderly woman and the giant ape standing behind her.

This woman… was very dangerous!

Within a minute, not only had she dealt with the Mana Vortex-level beast, the twin pheras, but now, she had also incapacitated over a dozen Mana Liquefaction Magus.

If the surviving cultists were in her place… they weren't sure if they would be able to bring out the same results.

Suddenly, the rider of the twin pheras narrowed his eyes, his pupils flickering with recognition.

"I see," he muttered softly. "You're Mathilda Whitaker… Blackwood's right hand."

"Hoho, I am flattered." The elderly woman chuckled heartily.

"Now, now, why don't you tell me who the traitors are?" Her eyes gradually narrowed, flickering with a cold light. "I promise to make it a quick and painless death if you do so."

"You pathetic wench! You dare look down upon us?!" One of the cultists, enraged by the loss of his followers, screamed in fury.

Professor Whitaker ignored the clown. Her gaze lingered on the twin pheras' rider. Just from a cursory glance, she could tell that he was the strongest Magus present and was most likely their leader.

"So? What's it going to be? Will you tell me? Or do I have to kill a dozen more of you before you open your mouth?"

The elderly woman spoke with a gentle expression on her face. It was quite unerving for the cultists to see her words and expressions contrast so drastically.

The rider narrowed his eyes as he coldly gazed at the elderly woman. Then, his gaze shifted to the lavish, white manor in the near distance, his eyes narrowing even further.

"Where's the Dark King?" He asked, his voice dripping with cold bloodlust. "I'm certain the one they're chasing outside is an illusion—quite a potent one, I might add."

Professor Whitaker smiled. "Oh, he's inside. Would you like to meet him?"

The rider couldn't help but frown, trying to figure out what she was trying to do. Suddenly, his eyes gradually widened.

Before attacking the Constantine Estate, he had heard from his comrades that they were unable to locate the contestants of the Grand Magus Tournament in the Ravenfell Arena.

Since they were one of the two primary targets the Cult was aiming for, a large portion of the cultists were dispatched across the city in search of them.

It was imperative to slaughter every single contestant. In doing so, they will have delivered a very lethal blow to not only the Empire's morale but also its future. This attack would cripple them thoroughly in more ways than one could imagine.

Now, the rider was slowly able to put two and two together. His gaze shifted between the elderly professor and the manor several times. Then, he finally said:

"You're buying time… but for what? Tell me, Magus, are the contestants inside the manor?"

Professor Whitaker remained silent, her expression unchanging.

However, her silence spoke more than words ever could.

The rider grinned from ear to ear. He then quickly barked out orders, "Matt, Woods, Cory, and Lauder hold her down! The rest of you follow me!"

With that, the cultists prepared to move out, with half of them attacking Professor Whitaker, while the other half dashing towards the house.

But right at that moment…

The dark, oil-like substance coating the ground from the dissolved quicksand suddenly came to life. Then, without warning, it surged upwards and exploded outwards in all directions like a tide.

In an instant, cultists standing in its vicinity were struck by the tendrils of black liquid. It clung to their skins and robes like tar, writhing and seeping through every gap in their defenses.

Only a handful of the Mana Vortex Magi managed to react in time, narrowly evading the strange substance as it spread across the vibrant garden like a rotting curse.

The rider suddenly felt his skin crawl. He raised his head and saw…

Dozens of portals, big and small, materialize above their heads! From the portals, dozens of flaming birds, ranging from Mana Foundation-level to Mana Liquefaction-level, emerged.

Their scarlet eyes gleamed with intelligence as they received the instruction of their summoner.

Professor Whitaker's lips parted, and she coldly said:

"Burn them all."

At once, dozens of flaming birds opened their beaks and unleashed torrents of otherworldly orange flames. Like a blazing tsunami from the heavens, the flames crashed down upon the cultists, engulfing them in an instant.

But that wasn't all…

The black, oil-like substance clinging to their bodies reacted violently, acting as a catalyst. It amplified the effects of the flames a hundredfold!

Screams tore through the air as the fire intensified, severely burning the flesh of these cultists. Although the flames weren't capable of directly killing them, they were sure to leave them severely incapacitated for the rest of the duration of the battle.

And while these cultists burned in agony, the rider and a handful of other cultists managed to push through, unaffected by the flames.

Their eyes blazed with venom and fury as they closed in, spells prepared, approaching melee range of the elderly professor.

But Professor Whitaker stood calm, the white-furred ape bracing itself protectively before her.

Without hesitation, the cultists unleashed their wrath. A wave of undead surged into being, skeletal warriors and rotting beasts rushing to encircle her.

The spells from the cultists lit up the air, ice, shadow, and necrotic fire, all aimed to crush her in one overwhelming assault.

A hundred foes. One woman.

And in the next instant, spells and undead creatures enveloped her completely…

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