Wizard Reed, calm and composed, walked step by step toward his destination. The title of Black Crow will soon be history, he thought. Then, we'll need to choose a resounding new name, one that will replace and subvert the current powers that be—a name that will send shivers down their spines.

Sometimes, the power of a name is truly beyond imagination.

Wizard Reed fantasized about the near future, his heart brimming with joy and excitement. Even though his Soul Puppet, the culmination of years of painstaking effort, had been reduced to ashes, and despite the Obsidian Staff he had sought for so long now being in another's hands, his spirits remained high.

This mission, one many were initially pessimistic about, is finally showing signs of success, he mused, his inner excitement palpable.

Alchemists used Exchange Beasts to create duplicates, while Wizard Reed used a Death Shell for the same purpose.

Alchemist duplicates often only shared Spirit Vision. Beyond expanding their creator's perspective, they served little other purpose; strictly speaking, they could hardly be called true duplicates. Wizard Reed's duplicates, however, were perfect substitutes for his true self, identical in behavior, attack, and defense.

I originally planned to use these duplicates to show the world what true Dark Arts are, he thought. But given the current situation, it seems unlikely my two duplicates will be defeated anytime soon.

Wizard Reed himself was somewhat puzzled. Is it the incompetence of these so-called higher powers, or is it the sheer strength of Dark Arts? The overwhelming advantage might have made him a bit arrogant, causing him to lose touch with his former self. If this duplication technique using a Death Shell is already too much for them, then Dark Arts are truly destined to dominate the entire professional world.

After all, this duplication technique is just one among many Dark Arts. On the great mountain that is Dark Arts, this particular art is, at best, merely a somewhat distinctive stone.

Whatever the reason, the fact remained: the top experts in the professional world were now helpless. They couldn't even touch his duplicates.

The Alchemy Workshop, the Soul Guardians, the so-called heroes of the old Empire... they're all nothing special, he sneered internally. Everything they represent seems like fleeting illusions. Before true power, they are nothing.

Wizard Reed continued toward his destination. Soon, he would meet the legendary Great Mentor. I wonder if this Great Mentor is just like those people on the mountain—all reputation and no substance, he mused.

Regardless, the arrogance that had smoldered in Wizard Reed's heart for so long had now burst from a spark into a raging inferno, blazing and surging within him.

Soon, he thought, the entire world will be mine.

Choosing the path of Dark Arts was truly the wisest decision I ever made.

Better to retreat into darkness, plot revenge, and ultimately challenge the entire world than to silently endure humiliation only to fade into obscurity.

Wizard Reed had long ago forsaken the existing world. Revenge was his sole focus. He yearned to fan this fire of vengeance into a conflagration, a masterpiece for all to witness.

Wizard Reed laughed again, the unexpected turn of events making him ecstatic. Victory is assured, no matter what, he thought with relish. Whether I advance or retreat, Dark Arts will etch a new chapter onto this continent.

Twilight was falling over Guru Mountain. This isn't just the twilight of Guru Mountain, Wizard Reed thought, it's the twilight of the entire world. After this dusk, the night's darkness will perform its Devouring, and then we shall rise. Darkness will reign supreme.

Wizard Reed didn't dare to let his thoughts wander further. The vision is too beautiful, he mused. I should save some of this delightful anticipation for later.

With that, he shifted his attention back to his duplicates.

His duplicate on Grey Eagle Peak of Guru Mountain was still laughing wildly. "Let the darkness come," it intoned, "silently, bringing infinite dread." The Obsidian Staff in its hand swayed back and forth, the released death qi coalescing into potent attacks. This Obsidian Staff was proving unexpectedly effective.

The Alchemists from the Alchemy Workshop and the monsters of Guru Mountain were now struggling to cope with the black smoke of death qi. They all understood what this smoke was, but none had an effective way to counter it.

These people were unfamiliar with the Power of Darkness. No, the entire professional world knew very little about it. This ignorance left them able to only react defensively, incapable of breaking through.

It was an incredibly frustrating situation. Though they understood what was happening, they had no way to defeat their opponent. Being trapped like this, unable to escape, was the quickest way to breed anxiety.

Brad was a young Alchemist. His thirst for power had driven him to become an Alchemist specializing in Berserk Potions, and his Physique Technique was exceptional among his peers. Yet, at this moment, he couldn't engage in close combat. The Black Smoke coiled around him, and neither his punches nor his kicks could disperse the dark fog. He felt a deep frustration; all his strength was useless, unable to land the decisive blow he yearned to deliver. Every strike felt like hitting cotton or empty air, with no satisfying feedback of force.

This powerlessness made Brad increasingly anxious. Fortunately, Senior Milo was beside him, helping him keep his anger in check. I don't know what Senior Milo is thinking, Brad thought, but I understand his meaning. He wants me to suppress my anger, not to act impulsively, and not to fall into the enemy's trap.

They knew precious little about this enemy, so little that they couldn't even identify the type of dark arts he was employing.

Ignorant of their opponent's capabilities, they couldn't commit to a full assault. Just as Milo feared, if they fell into a trap, there would be no retreat. Given this Dark Wizard's strength, no one dared to attack recklessly.

Even Simon, the former legend of the Alchemy Workshop, was merely observing quietly.

No one dared to act rashly. The outcome of unleashing so much Spirit Power earlier had disheartened them; all that Spirit Power had been absorbed by their opponent for nothing, only to be turned back against them. This was more than a little embarrassing.

Actually, it's more than embarrassing; in a way, it's a complete humiliation! they thought. Our own Spirit Power being used against us—it's utterly outrageous! And how can you win when fighting against your own power, perfectly mirrored? Strictly speaking, there's no chance of victory at all. We can only try to wear each other down until both sides are exhausted.

And that seemed to be exactly what was happening now.

The enemy was wearing them down, and they, in turn, were trying to wear down the enemy.

Just as these experts were calmly awaiting the outcome of this battle of attrition, a whirlwind descended from the sky. It struck like a bolt from the blue, startling everyone present.

This whirlwind, summoned by Witch Biggs, dispersed the Black Smoke...

"This is all just smoke and mirrors, easily scattered by the wind!" Great Witch Biggs declared, standing resolutely nearby, her eyes firm.