Above the dome of the Coliseum, a golden aura slowly rotated.
It was as if the Eye of Anubis were watching everything.
The air was filled with the mixed scents of spices and blood. The ground was paved with black basalt, and each stone was carved with ancient hieroglyphs that faintly gleamed with a dim sheen.
In the center of the arena, Ian stood quietly. His black robes fluttered gently in the breeze. He held his wand in his hand, yet his gaze was unusually calm. He swept his eyes across his surroundings and realized that this was no ordinary trial ground; it was more like a container of time, an illusionary realm sealed away by a god and created specifically to test intruders.
This place could summon the spirits of heroes from history. Whether they were already dead or had reincarnated, the trial ground could pull them forth as if summoning a projection of history itself.
Ian thought of a strange mystery novel he had once read in which a similar extraordinary method existed—not summoning the real person but rather traces of them that remained within history.
Though such projections were certainly not as powerful as the real thing, they still possessed the essence and skills of the original.
Just as Ian was observing his surroundings, Anubis's voice echoed once again.
He appeared on the judge's platform, draped in a golden cloak. His face was hidden beneath a jackal-headed mask, revealing only a pair of eyes as deep as an abyss.
"The first trial: Challenge the heroic spirits of history."
"The second trial: Challenge a legendary wizard your equal."
"The third trial: challenge my will."
"Now, your first trial officially begins. Good luck, child."
Anubis's voice reverberated throughout the arena, low and solemn, like a hammer of judgment striking the soul.
As his words fell, the black iron gate at the far end of the coliseum rose with a thunderous roar and the clattering of heavy chains.
A towering figure slowly stepped forward from within the darkness.
It was an ancient Egyptian warrior.
He wore linen battle armor inlaid with golden patterns. His bare arms were thick with knotted muscle, and his bronze skin bore war tattoos of the Eye of Horus.
In his left hand, he held a round bronze shield engraved with the emblem of the sun god Ra. Hanging at his waist was a curved battle blade, the Khopesh Sword. The totem of Ra was carved into the shield.
These were symbols of an ancient Egyptian champion.
The champion's face was resolute, and his eyes were as sharp as a hawk's. His steps were as steady as a mountain and as heavy and powerful as though he were treading upon the lingering echoes of history itself.
In the stands, the phantom "audience," the Wailing Souls, erupted instantly, bursting into deafening cheers.
"Seti! Seti! Seti!"
"He is the undefeated god of war!"
"He once slaughtered a hundred men alone by the Nile!"
Countless spectators erupted into a frenzy, roaring in celebration as they welcomed the champion.
Seti,
He was one of the greatest warriors in ancient Egyptian history. He drove back the Hittite invasion through sheer personal strength and was praised as the "Lion of the Nile."
Like King Arthur in Britain, his legend was an eternal heroic spirit within the hearts of Egypt's people.
Seti raised the Kheshis Sword, and the crowd's roar grew even louder. Seeing this, Ian raised an eyebrow, glanced around, and the corners of his mouth curled upward slightly.
"You're pretty popular. I could use some of that popularity."
He lifted his wand.
With a casual flic...
"Fictus Spectatores!" (Phantom Audience).
As Ian spoke, silvery-gray magic surged like a tide across half the stands. The illusory shadows of the Wailing Souls were replaced by vivid, lifelike spectators.
A pale purple light cut through the air and instantly covered half of the audience area. The next second, a crowd of "virtual viewers" appeared out of thin air. They wore modern wizard robes and glasses and held magical cameras.
Some held banners that read, "Ian will win!"
Others waved glow sticks shaped like wands.
Someone started blowing piercing whistles.
They looked incredibly lively.
Of course, this was not the true creation of life, only a form of virtual "data" based on reality, essentially a kind of illusion magic.
For a legendary wizard, producing such magic was no difficult feat.
Driven by Ian's vanity, half of the stands were replaced by virtual fans he had created. They began shouting praises for Ian in perfect unison, using their loud chants to overpower the voices supporting the ancient Egyptian champion.
"Ian! Ian! Ian!"
"Hogwarts' genius wizard!"
"Potions Master! Alchemist!"
"He uses magic to change the world!"
Their voices drowned out the cheering from the other side.
After all, the Wailing Souls actually had to strain their throats to cheer for their idol.
But virtual spectators?
They were emotionless repeaters, endlessly looping the lines Ian had programmed into them.
The 21st century hadn't arrived yet, and AI was already replacing people in the wizarding world.
One must admit that, when it came to innovation, Ian truly knew what he was doing.
These virtual spectators immensely satisfied his vanity.
Meanwhile...
Anubis stood atop the referee's platform. His jackal head tilted slightly, and a trace of surprise flashed through his golden pupils. His normally indifferent expression froze for a moment.
Then, he chuckled softly with a hint of approval in his voice.
"Not bad. Your control over illusion is quite exquisite. But a wizard can't just know how to wave a wand. The true test is a contest of wisdom and will. Therefore, in the first round, you may only use magic three times."
"Think carefully about how you will win in three moves."
As he spoke, he raised his scepter and slammed it into the ground with force. A black rune chain shot out from the top of the staff and coiled straight toward Ian's body in an attempt to seal his magic.
However, the moment the light touched Ian, it dissolved instantly, like water sinking into sand.
Yes!
The influence that Anubis's divine power had tried to impose on Ian vanished without a trace.
Anubis visibly froze.
"You... are a demigod?"
For once, the ancient Egyptian god of death's voice carried uncertainty. His brows furrowed slightly as if he found it unbelievable.
Ian shook his head lightly and spoke calmly.
"No, I am neither a god nor a demigod. I am only a wizard."
He corrected him calmly, then paused before adding,
"And you don't need to seal my magic, because I don't need to use magic at all."
Such a confident statement!
It was not something a young wizard, not even an adult, should be saying.
Seti and the Wailing Souls in the stands all froze.
Anubis fell silent.
The "virtual fans" in the audience immediately erupted into cheers.
"Ian doesn't need a wand! He uses his brain!"
"He fights with knowledge!"
"He speaks with history!"
These virtual spectators were essentially Ian's mouthpieces. Just as Anubis and the Wailing Souls wondered how a wizard could fight a champion without magic,
"I come from Hogwarts. I know more than just how to wave a wand. I also know how to use a sword."
Ian chuckled softly.
Then, he reached beneath his robes and pulled out a weapon.
A massive forty-meter-long cleaver forged entirely from silvery-white metal. Its blade flashed with a cold light.
The blade was covered in ancient runes.
Each rune contained the secrets of alchemy and potioncraft.
The instant the gigantic blade appeared in the Coliseum, the very air seemed to tremble.
Seti: "...?"
Audience: "...???"
Anubis: "......"
The jackal mask of the Death God almost cracked. The "real spectators" in the stands sucked in a sharp breath, and the cries of "Seti" died out abruptly.
The coliseum fell into a brief silence, as if time itself had frozen in that moment.
"Wait... don't you think your weapon is a bit too much like cheating?" Anubis asked from the referee's platform. Beneath the mask, his deep eyes widened slightly.
"He calls that cleaver a sword?"
The ancient Egyptian champion's eyes bulged. The shield in his hand trembled faintly as he spoke in a dry, stunned voice.
It was clear that his worldview had been shattered.
'How was he supposed to play this?'
The other guy had a forty-meter-long blade.
"No one ever said I couldn't have a weapon this long, right?"
Ian grinned as he casually swung the forty-meter cleaver with one hand, pointing the blade tip straight at the Egyptian champion.
"Hm?"
Seti gripped his own sword tightly. His bronze muscles tensed, and his eyes locked onto Ian. More precisely, he was staring at the forty-meter-long giant cleaver in Ian's hands.
And it wasn't over yet.
The champion clenched his shield, his muscles tightening as he prepared to face Ian's absurd blade. Just as he was about to charge...
Ian made an unexpected move.
He didn't pull out a shield.
Instead, he took a full set of silver-gray, electrically powered, pure-metal armor from his waist pouch.
The armor covered his entire body. As it unfolded, the metal parts automatically fit onto his body and locked into place with sharp clicks.
The suit fit him perfectly, like a second layer of skin.
His fur cloak fluttered in the wind, shimmering against the metallic sheen. He looked like a warrior from the future.
"This..."
The champion's eyes widened.
"What is that?"
"This...this isn't allowed, is it?! How am I supposed to fight him like this?"
Unable to hold back, he turned toward Anubis on the referee's platform. His voice filled with grievance as he asked, "Is it also permitted for this guy to be a tin can?!"
Anubis's jackal mask twitched slightly. For once, hesitation appeared in his golden eyes. By common sense, a gladiatorial trial tests courage and skill.
But Ian's equipment...
It was far beyond what an ancient Egyptian champion could comprehend. Just as the Death God was considering how to respond, Ian kindly offered a suggestion.
"Oh, my champion." A smiling voice came from beneath the helmet.
"I'm not a tin can. I'm a flying tin can."
...Ka! Clang!
The metal plates on the armor's back suddenly unfolded.
Six miniature jet engines ignited simultaneously, blasting out blue-white flames.
The jet propulsion lifted Ian into the air.
No magic.
Just technology.
It was a pure Muggle shockwave delivered straight into the faces of these ancient people.
BOOM!
Ian shot upward and hovered in midair. The forty-meter cleaver spun in a full circle above his head. The wind pressure it generated kicked up sand and dust along the edges of the arena.
The entire place fell silent.
Seti stared upward with his mouth slightly open; his curved sword nearly slipped from his hand. The Wailing Souls in the stands froze collectively, forgetting how to cheer.
Anubis's scepter hung in midair, neither raised nor lowered.
He could not sense any magical fluctuation. Yet this was clearly not something a normal mortal should be capable of.
Muggle technology...
Shocking Ancient Egypt.
"What...is that?"
"He's flying?"
"No wings, no spells... how is he flying?!"
The "real spectators" in the stands were genuinely stunned. The chants of "Seti is invincible" had long since disappeared.
In their place were murmurs of disbelief.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Ian's "virtual fans" erupted into wild cheering.
"Hogwarts technology revolution!"
"Tech armor! Flying technology!"
"Ian is invincible!"
They were excellent virtual tool people, even providing the ancient audience with free explanations that this wasn't magic.
"Come on! Jump up and hit my knees, champion!"
Ian swung his forty-meter cleaver through the air. The blade cut through the air, producing a terrifying howl. He slowly descended, the blade pointing toward Seti; his tone was full of teasing mockery.
Amenhotep stared at the weapon, which looked capable of splitting a mountain in half. Then he looked back at the "flying tin can" in the sky.
His expression changed hundreds of times in rapid succession.
Finally, he roared, unable to take it anymore.
"I'm done! This is way too unfair!"
Seti finally snapped out of it. He was so furious that his beard practically stood on end.
"I can't even touch him! What's the point of fighting?"
He threw down his shield and turned to leave. Anubis remained silent for two seconds, then slowly spoke.
"The trial continues."
This was a divine decree. Not even the heroic spirit of a legendary champion could disobey it.
After all, there were levels among legendary champions, too.
This ancient Egyptian champion belonged to the type that served the gods.
He was far less free than King Arthur.
"What?!" Seti's eyes widened. His steps halted abruptly. His face twisted with unwillingness and rage as he glared at Anubis.
"This is blatant rigging!"
He felt it was truly unfair.
Sadly, though, protests were meaningless.
After thinking it through, Anubis did not consider Ian's actions to be cheating. A wizard had more than one way to fight.
Meanwhile, Ian had already raised his hand.
The forty-meter cleaver came crashing down through the air with a deafening roar!
CLANG!
Seti hastily lifted his shield to block.
The force of the blow sent him staggering backward more than ten steps.
A deep dent appeared in the shield.
"Wait! I demand a weapon change!"
The ancient Egyptian champion rolled to dodge the second strike and shouted toward the referee's platform.
"I want flying equipment, too!"
Anubis: "... "
He couldn't fulfill such a request, so he simply turned his gaze away in silence.
Ian's laughter came from inside the armor.
"Sorry. I don't provide after-sales service for the enemy."
With that, he swung the massive blade again, twisting the edge in midair.
"Take this... my 'Holy Sword of Physics'!"
Ian hovered in the air, the jet engines on his back humming with a low vibration. Blue-white exhaust trails carved dazzling streaks through the dim arena.
He swung the forty-meter cleaver one-handed; the blade tore through the air with a scream that made people's scalps go numb.
CLANG—!!
Seti clenched his teeth and bulged with muscle as he forced his bronze shield to take the blow head-on once again. The terrifying impact drove his feet deep into the sand. The Sun God emblem on the shield was warped and deformed.
His palms split open. Blood streamed down his forearms and dripped onto the yellow sand.
"I @#￥%&!!!"
Ancient Egyptians could curse, too, and his curses were vicious.
"This isn't swordsmanship...this is swinging a hammer!"
The champion screamed in his heart. But what made him despair even more was that Ian didn't give him the slightest chance to counterattack.
Every time Seti leapt up or used the surrounding structures to gain height, trying to close the distance, that absurdly huge cleaver would sweep toward him as if he were a fly, forcing him to roll and scramble away in humiliation.
When he finally found an opening, he hurled his khopesh sword toward the sky with all his strength.
Clang!
The curved blade struck Ian's chest armor precisely but only scraped a shower of sparks off the thick metal surface before falling uselessly to the ground.
"Aircraft-carrier-grade composite armor. Pure technological creation." Ian's mocking voice echoed through his helmet.
"If your weapon isn't enchanted, don't waste your effort."
This was the victory of technology.
"Damn it..." Seti dropped to one knee, panting heavily. Sweat and blood mixed and slid down his forehead, and his vision began to blur.
The Wailing Souls in the stands had gone silent.
Even the "cheerleading squad" that Ian had created with magic had stopped shouting. Only the humming sound of jet engines remained in the entire coliseum.
And then...
"You are from the future."
Suddenly,
Anubis seemed to realize something and he frowned and looked toward Ian.
(End of Chapter)
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