School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 85 --The First Battle with Quincy

Owen, regaining his composure, stroked his chin and spoke:

"Heartstealer Island is divided into two types of terrain. The first is what we see before us – a landscape of deserts and temples. The other, which we have yet to lay eyes on, is the opposite side of the island, characterized by forests and canyons."

"The island has a way of scattering people, whether by design or random space magic. In our case, this could actually be a blessing."

Erin, her face the epitome of innocence, seemed blissfully unaware of the peril they were in, of how treacherous their situation had become.

In her mind, as long as she was by Owen’s side, she was in absolute safety.

"Master, what should we do now?" she asked.

Owen gazed into the distance, where the lush forest loomed like a ravenous beast, its hidden dangers unknown to any outsider.

"The best scenario would be to regroup with Finn and the others. Their abilities are generally weaker within the confines of Heartstealer Island. If they encounter members of the Neptune race, they would undoubtedly be at a great disadvantage."

"Alright," Erin said, looking around. "This place seems fairly safe."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the sound of something slicing through the air came from behind them.

With a premonition, Owen’s hand moved instinctively, summoning the Seastar Trident. With a swift motion, he flung it backwards.

The sound of the trident slicing through bone echoed in the air, followed by the splatter of fresh blood.

Turning around, Owen saw that he had struck a snake. Now bisected, its exposed muscles still writhed unsettlingly.

Erin, startled, hid behind Owen: "A 2-tier Lightning Snake, how can it be in the underwater world?"

A 2-tier spellbeast, equivalent to the gold-tier in their ranking.

Owen shook his head, his gaze vigilant as he surveyed the surroundings. The forest, through his eyes, had become even more menacing.

"Heartstealer Island is completely isolated from the Gosa Waters, a space unto itself. It’s not unusual to find terrestrial snakes here, but we must be extremely cautious now."

"The presence of a 2-tier spellbeast so casually encountered indicates the strength of the creatures on Heartstealer Island is not to be underestimated."

"We should hurry and leave this place."

Erin, with a worried look, muttered softly: "Which direction should we head in?"

Owen looked up at the sky, where a beam of light shone from the east: "Do you remember the scene we saw from the outside?"

"What scene?" Erin asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"In the center of Heartstealer Island, there is a mountain that cleaves the sky like a giant blade, with a gem at its peak radiating an endless glow."

"I remember now, everyone says that’s the Heart of the Ocean."

"Exactly. We just need to head towards the direction of the light source; there’s no mistaking it."

"Master is so smart."

Erin clasped her fists to her chest, eyes sparkling as she gazed at Owen.

Owen’s mouth twitched slightly at her naivety.

Isn’t this something anyone could think of?

He smiled and shook his head, taking Erin’s hand and walking towards the east.

Along the way, they indeed encountered an unending stream of spellbeasts, ranging from 2-tier to 3-tier.

Fortunately, Owen’s exceptional strength meant they avoided shedding any skin in the forest.

As they progressed, the light became brighter, a sign they were getting closer to the Heart of the Ocean.

The moment they emerged from the forest, their eyes were greeted by a majestic mountain.

The peak soared into the clouds, shrouded in mist.

What was even more astonishing was that this mountain seemed to break through the barrier of Heartstealer Island, piercing into the deep ocean.

Around it, the water flowed, and arcanergy mingled and rose in tendrils.

The most striking feature of the mountain was the Heart of the Ocean, suspended at its peak.

The Heart of the Ocean, distinctly blue, emitted a light that was pure and bright, akin to a sun in its own right.

Erin, her lips slightly parted in awe, exclaimed: "It’s so beautiful!"

Owen squinted his eyes, sensing something amiss but unable to pinpoint what it was.

"Let’s go up the mountain and have a look."

They had barely taken a few steps when a young man, arms folded, stepped out.

"Owen, I’ve been waiting for you for a long time."

Owen and Erin halted.

"A master-tier, not much of a threat," Owen assessed the newcomer with a glance, reassuring himself.

"Hey, aren’t you the sea race individual who was standing alone outside Heartstealer Island?" Erin pointed at him, her expression one of surprise, "Do you know my master?"

The young man smiled broadly and said earnestly: "The saint of dragons, it’s hard not to know something about you."

"Who are you?" Owen felt a sense of unease towards the stranger.

"Quincy."

"Quincy?" Owen searched his mind for the name but found no recollection. "How were you able to pinpoint my location?"

Quincy did not respond. He couldn’t reveal that he was a grandmaster-tier, possessing an almost divine intuition, allowing him to track anyone once he had locked onto even a trace of their aura.

"I noticed you from outside," Quincy changed the topic, "I stopped you because I wanted to battle you, to see the difference between us."

Owen frowned, glancing at the Heart of the Ocean hanging high above:

"The Heart of the Ocean is right there, and you choose to confront me instead of going for it? Are you out of your mind?"

Quincy’s expression darkened:

"The saint of dragons truly speaks without restraint. Didn’t your parents teach you to speak politely?"

As Quincy’s words fell, he swiftly turned and advanced, his body surging with arcanergy.

Owen’s pupils contracted sharply; he sensed something extraordinary about Quincy. He was no ordinary master-tier.

The arcanergy emanating from Quincy was deep and layered like waves upon waves, interwoven with a nuance that Owen couldn’t yet comprehend.

With the enemy initiating the attack, Owen naturally refused to show weakness.

"Hmph, young yet speaking like an old sage," he retorted.

He too stepped forward, his arcanergy gathering in his fists.

Their punches, unadorned yet powerful, collided. Owen was sent flying back instantly, while Quincy stood his ground, his face stern.

"Not so strong after all! The ’saint of dragons’ seems to be nothing but an empty title."

After steadying himself, Owen’s expression turned extremely solemn.

In the path of cultivation, whether as a warrior or a magus, the utilization of arcanergy is crucial.

Arcanergy, sparked by the physical body, denotes a warrior. When it’s stimulated by the mind, it signifies a magus.

Although warriors cultivate and accumulate arcanergy, its application varies.

For instance, two warriors of the same realm with identical amounts of arcanergy may use it differently.

A more talented individual could execute fifty moves with their arcanergy, while someone with mediocre talent might only manage twenty.

This is the disparity in the utilization of arcanergy among warriors.

Warrior combat often involves close-quarters physical confrontations, where every moment is a dance on the edge of a blade.

Thus, differences in the use of arcanergy can lead to different outcomes.

Owen, evidently a prodigy, could execute eighty moves with his diamond-tier arcanergy.

This indicated that his mastery in utilizing arcanergy had reached a pinnacle, aligning with the master-tier.

Therefore, all he needed was a powerful external surge of arcanergy to break through, allowing him unimpeded access to the master-tier.

But Quincy was even more terrifying.

Take, for instance, their recent exchange of blows.

Owen had used five strands of arcanergy, whereas Quincy only three.

Yet, Owen was the one sent reeling backward.

With less arcanergy, Quincy had gained a significant advantage in their initial clash.

This meant Quincy’s mastery over arcanergy surpassed Owen’s, reaching an entirely different level.

"Who exactly are you?" Owen asked, his brow furrowed tightly. "You’re definitely not an unknown."

A trace of world-weariness flickered in Quincy’s eyes – who hadn’t been a prodigious youth once?

This fleeting sentiment quickly disappeared, replaced by a slight smile.

"What, are you scared?"

Owen revealed a bloodthirsty grin, his fighting spirit growing wildly like bamboo after rain.

"No, it’s just been a long time since I’ve had an opponent as strong as you."

With that, Owen didn’t back down but instead advanced, his arcanergy rising like tumultuous waves, surging towards Quincy.

Quincy moved elusively, his expression calm, effortlessly dodging Owen’s attacks and countering with a detached air.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of golden and dark blue arcanergy, intertwining like two luminous orbs in constant motion.

The surrounding flora, stones, and earth bore the brunt of their clash.

Both were exceptional beings, their mere engagement unleashing tempests, with stones shattering instantaneously under the force of their arcanergy.

The ground was riddled with deep craters, evidence of their fierce battle.

Owen’s voice resonated: "Thrilling, truly thrilling."

The last time in Dreamscape Valley, when Owen fought the temple guardian, it was merely a one-sided barrage of arcanergy, coupled with receiving blows.

This time, however, it was a real battle for Owen.

He was constantly absorbing experience from his fight with Quincy, eager to uncover the secret to Quincy’s precise use of arcanergy.

Their fists and feet continuously intertwined, each collision releasing a deafening sound.

Their bodies tumbled through the air, sometimes kicking, sometimes punching, creating an exceptionally intense spectacle.

Owen’s body was covered in wounds, and Quincy, though faring slightly better, was also marked with injuries.

Yet, they relentlessly continued their assault on each other.

Owen, his body a blur of blood and flesh, had eyes shining as brightly as the Heart of the Ocean hanging in the sky.

His Emerald Eye activated, allowing him a clear view of the way arcanergy coursed through Quincy’s body.

With each punch, he refined the path of his arcanergy release.

Gradually, the calm on Quincy’s face vanished, replaced by a gravity so intense it seemed as though water could be wrung from it:

"Indeed, the ’saint of dragons’ is not just an empty title. In just this brief exchange, your growth is astonishingly formidable."