I will be crowned king

"A follower of the Bright Star City Order and a researcher at the Bloodline Alchemy Room, Anson Bach."

In the atmosphere where the air was frozen, Ansen, whose face was covered with blood, looked at the other person calmly and said calmly: "If you don't mind, just call me Ansen."

Although he pretended not to mind, his heartstrings were already tense to the extreme, almost directly revealing the fact that he was not sitting on the chair.

Relying on the excellent qualities of the bloodline of the Holy Grail Knight, he finally did not show any cowardice.

"Of course...nice to meet you, Anson."

Xier was stunned for a moment, and then the smile on his face became brighter and he said: "Brilliant Star City, you should know August from Bright Star City, right?"

"Ahaha, he is an old acquaintance of mine for many years. I wonder how he is doing now?"

"I don't know." Anson raised his eyebrows: "I know him, but I don't know him - can we continue?"

"sure."

Syl nodded, with a smile on his face: "But dear Anson, I must remind you that deceiving a Tutor when participating in the trial, especially if this Tutor is your opponent... That is not a clear-cut statement. Decide."

"No, but I'm telling the truth." Anson looked at the eyes peeking out from the gap in the brim of his hat:

"As a Tutor, don't you know if I'm lying?"

The tit-for-tat negotiation escalated the depressing atmosphere again. The two parties sitting on both sides of the long blood-stained table stared at each other coldly until the parchment appeared again:

“Is it existing writing, or did language come first?”

This time the beam above his head fell on Anson.

"I think writing came first." Anson said first: "There are no symbols that accurately represent the meaning of each sound, and language is just a meaningless howl among the same kind."

"This is really surprising. I thought you must be able to speak Xianyouyu..." Xier restrained his surprise and quickly counterattacked:

"I object - even if there is no writing, it does not prove that language does not exist; it is because there is language that there will be writing, not the other way around, so there must be language first and then writing."

Resisting the pain in his legs, Anson slightly increased the strength of his elbows.

Of course he knew what the other party was surprised about. This topic was no different from the previous one. The advantage of being the first to move was even greater. Anyone would choose "language first" rather than the latter.

But Anson doesn't think so.

"Objection - language is the lowest-cost communication channel within a group, but the premise of defining language is that it must include the ability to express information, and text is the carrier of information, so there must be text first, and then language."

This answer made Seal laugh directly: "Question, is it true that a language without the birth of words is not a language?"

"Sorry, I can't answer." Anson looked at him expressionlessly:

“Because there must be words before there can be language – your question is not valid from the start.”

Xier finally stopped smiling, and the corners of his raised mouth froze on his face.

Seeing his unfriendly expression at first, Anson, who pretended to be relaxed, took out his pipe from his arms and bit it gently at the corner of his mouth. Some ancient memories began to appear in his mind.

Q. What’s the key to winning a debate?

Is it to refute the opponent's arguments point by point, to present tangible evidence, to speak eloquently, or to make a wonderful statement in one sentence?

No, there is only one factor in whether you can win the argument - having the right to define the topic.

Every debater who sees the topic will create a subjective definition of it in his heart. He subconsciously thinks that this definition is recognized by everyone, subconsciously outputs opinions according to this definition, and subconsciously refutes the differences between the other party's argument and his own imagination. …Ninety-nine percent of the time, this kind of debate will be fruitless because there is no consensus between the two sides.

The only way to win a debate is to make the other party acquiesce in their own definition of the topic - the scope, definitions and rules are all set by me. No matter how reasonable you are, you are still quibbling.

In fact, the same is true in the public opinion environment. As long as you have the right to speak and interpret, "double standards" can even be a compliment, because everything I say is right, but you are wrong from the moment you open your mouth to refute, and it is ridiculously wrong. .

Lighting his pipe, Anson blew out a perfectly shaped smoke ring as he was reminded of endless memories.

"This is... so much fun."

The surprised Syl suddenly laughed and even applauded: "It's amazing. It seems that you have a very deep understanding of this game. You are worthy of being the evolver of the magic method. I lost, and I am convinced that I lost."

After saying that, he raised his right hand, pointed his index finger at his temple, and then stabbed it inward!

"Puff puff--"

With the blood splattering out, Syl poked his raised index finger into his head one by one, and his trembling right hand was still twisting back and forth while poking.

At the same time, his left hand directly tore his own throat open. His palm followed the gap torn in the center of his collarbone, broke his ribs one by one, grabbed his heart along the gap, and finally burst out.

"Plop!"

Without uttering a scream, Siel, who was struggling with his brain and heart, fell on the table in an extremely weird posture, and stretched out from his chest.

Looking at the left hand that was looking straight at him and holding his heart, the expressionless Anson slowly closed his eyes; when he opened his eyes again, the "tragic death" of Syl had already sat on him intact again. On the opposite side, except for the sticky plasma on the smile that oozed out, there was no trace of what had just happened.

"Okay, let's get on with it."

Silze, who was holding his chin with both hands, smiled more and more: "You have already won two rounds. You only need to win eight more rounds to pass this trial."

"At the moment, it seems that this is not difficult for you; on the contrary, I should be more careful. Losing two games in a row is not a good sign, haha."

Anson still showed no expression, feeling extremely nervous.

He carefully observed the process of Silze's two "suicides", and even risked exposing his trump card by turning on his "superpower". The result was that the other party did not pretend, but really killed him - from life reaction to magic All breath disappeared without a trace at the moment of death.

But this is not a good result, and it even makes things more serious: the other party has the ability to resurrect from the dead, which means that if you want to defeat Sirze and pass the trial, you must win ten times in a row!

Of course, it is impossible to defeat a blasphemous mage with one's own strength. Just having a chance is already a great advantage; but this does not make the situation change at all.

Moreover, the different methods of the other party's two suicides are also very suspicious. Could it be related to the conditions for resurrection?

While he was thinking quickly, the theme of the third round of debate had emerged:

"What color is blood?"

Um? Anson's pupils shrank slightly.

This, what kind of question is this? Does it mean that you have to start with the definition of color and blood?

"Ah, I'm going to start this time." Silze's weird laughter sounded:

"My conclusion is that the blood...is blue."

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, Ansen, who had not yet recovered from his confusion, immediately felt a deep and cold breath suddenly hit his face.

This is... the magical aura of the blasphemous mage!

Anson, who was already very familiar with this, resisted the discomfort and raised his head, and the picture that appeared in front of him made his eyes widen again.

Searle, who was smiling all over his face, was looking at himself playfully, and on his body and around him...all the plasma spewing out turned blue at a speed visible to the naked eye!

This... Ansen froze in place as if he had been petrified, and cold sweat instantly spread all over his forehead.

The next second, an indescribable cold feeling hit him from inside his body; in a daze, he immediately realized what had happened - his blood was also turning blue!

Without hesitation, Anson decisively opened the casting range and tried to resist according to the method August had taught him, restoring the color of the blood in his body to its original state.

But in front of that power, his casting range was almost as if it didn't exist. He could only watch the color of his blood turn into a cold blue bit by bit; at the same time, under this power, even his consciousness was also It began to become blurry, and a double image of Syl began to appear in his vision.

The sensation of the body and the color of the world are leaving him little by little, and even the biting cold is slowly melting away, replaced by the non-existent nothingness.

In the end, it completely turned into darkness.

Snapped--

Anson, who stopped breathing, tilted his head to the side and slumped down on the chair.

At the end of everything, what was reflected in his pupils was Ciel's malicious smile.

"It's so...so sorry."

Looking at the dead Anson, Searle, who was smiling more and more, sighed softly and asked with a voice full of regret: "I told a lie, a very inappropriate lie - I tell you August He is my friend, but actually... we should be described as mortal enemies more appropriately."

"Just because he completely rejected my conjecture about the overlap between black magic and curse magic, I had to come to Boridim in an attempt to prove that he was wrong and I was right, and finally fell into the trap of the apostles. .”

"But you also lied. Your aura that is full of August from head to toe can't be blocked at all. I knew from the second you came in that you definitely have a close relationship with him - as lonely as August. Steve will not accept anyone staying in the same room with him for an extended period of time."

"So you paid dearly for lying to an apostle; your struggle was like a worm caught in a spider's web, meaningless."

"Of course, you can be proud of being able to last until the third round in front of me." Sil nodded seriously, but the smile on his face remained unchanged: "Speaking of which, you were able to last so many rounds last time. , it’s still a six-person team that works well together.”

"So there is no need to be ashamed or regretful. You have proven that you are a qualified conjurer; you come from the same evolutionary path, and Sirzetu Tor is your witness."

He stood up and bowed to Anson Bach's body very seriously - except for the ever-present smile on his face.

And just when Syl was about to sit back down, something suddenly caught his attention.

"Why does this pipe...have magical reactions?"

Taking the "Mist Pipe" from the corner of Anson's mouth, Silze's face showed infinite curiosity, and he looked over and over again at this seemingly ordinary thing, but it actually had magical reactions and was not weak at all.

In fact, from the moment Anson stepped into the door, he had already felt it; although it was not strong, it was very lasting, strangely like a spell caster who could only exhale but not inhale - if it weren't for the fact that he could see clearly Seeing the opponent's figure, Xier even suspected that he would face more than one opponent this round.

If you just imprint magic on an item, then the magic should change with the passage of time or the shrinkage of the casting range, but the thing in front of you can still be used even if the casting range is not expanded!

How on earth was this done?

Not only that, in addition to the pipe in his hand, Ciel also felt at least five or six different magical reactions from Anson's corpse, covering all three major pathways.

Could it be that he found a way to transfer mutant power from living creatures to objects? !

Sirze's expression suddenly became serious. As a conjurer, he knew very well what this technology meant; once such technology is promoted, it will definitely cause a sensation in the entire True God World!

And if you can understand the core skills inside and pass the third round of trials, maybe...

"Ahem...well, can you give me my pipe back?"

The sudden words made the slightly absent-minded Xier show a surprised expression for the first time.

He looked in surprise at Anson Bach, who slowly stood up from the chair and was unscathed from head to toe. He was so surprised that he subconsciously handed over the pipe: "You..."

"I...just like you just now."

Anson paused, took the pipe from the other party slightly nervously, and smiled at the other party: "Died, and then...ahem, he was alive again."

"Alive?"

Silr murmured to himself, with an incredible expression on his face: "This, this is impossible, how can you, an ordinary evolver of curse magic, master the high-level curse magic of 'denying death'?!"

"That's wrong! I didn't feel any sign of the realm opening. You didn't rely on magic to bring yourself back to life, but your ability... That's not right either!"

So that's it, this guy's ability can deny death... Anson raised his eyebrows, deliberately didn't speak, and began to have more calculations in his heart.

"Tell me, did August do anything to you?!" Syl suddenly came forward, the smile on his face gradually twisted with ferocity: "Tell me, did you do it?"

"I really do not know."

Suppressing the fear in his heart, Anson pretended to be leisurely and continued to smoke his pipe: "So, can you continue?"

“Debate 4 – What came first, life or death?”