I am the Archmage

Chapter 8 Anger

On the bustling streets of the Babunika Kingdom’s capital, Aircenk, a man and a woman strolled together.

The man, around twenty years old, wore a mage’s robe. Despite his decent looks, his face bore an air of roguishness, completely lacking the composure and solemnity expected of a mage.

The woman, on the other hand, was an exceptionally beautiful blonde. Her golden hair cascaded down her back like sunlight. Dressed in exquisite silver armor and carrying a longsword on her back, she exuded a heroic elegance, perfectly embodying the image of a swordswoman.

Yes, that man and woman were none other than me and Livia.

After the chaotic battle in the forest, the two old men, Eulis and Linka, had tasked Livia with accompanying me to Aircenk to use the Phoenix blood to save Princess Olina. They stayed behind to focus on figuring out how to send me back to my original world.

Whether they were serious about it or not, I didn’t care. With a beauty like Livia by my side, I’d have gone anywhere—even to hell.

Ever since that day in the forest when I held her in my arms, Livia’s attitude toward me had completely changed. Although she still wasn’t very talkative, she often gave me strange glances. The moment I met her gaze, her cheeks would flush pink, and she’d shyly look away, radiating an irresistible charm.

Yet, whenever I tried to make a move, her dainty fists would teach me a lesson—not too hard, but not too light either.

Sigh, the revolution is far from success. A comrade must keep trying.

Livia had visited Aircenk with her father before, so she was familiar with the roads. Once inside the city, she led me directly toward the palace.

I grabbed her slender hand and said, “Livia, how about we grab something to eat before heading to the palace? Who knows what will happen once we get there.”

Since arriving on the Holy Magic Continent, I’d been fascinated by the food. While I couldn’t find sweet potatoes, there were plenty of other exotic dishes and ingredients, most of which were incredibly delicious. Just thinking about them made my mouth water.

Livia didn’t seem to mind that I called her “Livia.” She rolled her eyes, seven parts exasperation and three parts coyness, and said, “You shameless rogue, I can’t deal with you.”

For some reason, she always called me a “rogue.” It couldn’t be helped—after all, my parents had given me such a ridiculous name. Fine, a rogue is a rogue, as long as it makes the beauty happy.

We entered a restaurant, and Livia’s stunning beauty immediately caught everyone’s attention. She frowned, and an icy aura radiated from her body, forcing the smarter diners to quickly avert their gazes.

In the corner of the restaurant, one particular person caught my eye. He was a tall, broad-shouldered young man who looked only slightly older than me. Dressed in shining silver knight’s armor, he had a large sword and shield by his side and was currently smiling as he appraised Livia.

Jealousy surged in my heart. Just as I was about to teach this guy a lesson, Livia let out a surprised “Oh!” and walked straight toward him, leaving me behind.

A wave of killing intent involuntarily radiated from me as I stared daggers at the man, imagining turning him into roast chicken, slicing him into pieces, and then…

(What follows is too gruesome to describe, so we’ll skip it.)

Livia stopped in front of the man and said, “Parker, what are you doing here?”

The man—Parker—glanced at me, his eyes brimming with amusement as he said, “I’m here on business, of course. But this is surprising—the icy ‘Phantom Swordswoman’ Livia appearing with a man?”

Livia turned back to glance at me, and her delicate pink cheeks immediately turned a faint shade of red, making her look stunningly beautiful.

Parker exaggeratedly exclaimed, “Wow, you’re blushing? No way! You can’t be the real Livia. Tell me, why are you pretending to be her?”

Seeing Livia laughing and chatting with Parker, I couldn’t hold back my jealousy any longer. Although I often teased her, I had long since fallen for her and truly liked her.

A tidal wave of magic power surged out of me uncontrollably, shattering plates and glasses throughout the restaurant and throwing the diners into chaos.

Although I hadn’t intentionally targeted Parker, the magic pressure naturally flowed toward him, catching even Livia in its wake. She let out a startled cry, “Wu Lai, stop!”

Hmph, she’s really protecting this guy.

Fueled by jealousy, I focused all the magic pressure on Parker.

Parker tensed up and turned to Livia, saying, “Is he the new student your father mentioned?”

Livia nodded slightly. Parker let out a hearty laugh, drew his massive sword in a flash, and slashed it through the air. The overwhelming magical currents heading toward him split in two, bypassing his body completely.

Seeing this, my battle spirit ignited. Apart from my fight with Chirpy Bird, this was the first time I’d felt such a strong desire to battle.

I shouted to the diners, “Get out now, or deal with the consequences!” Then, forming a series of hand seals, I prepared to attack.

Livia turned pale with fright and was about to say something when Parker stopped her. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt him. I just want to see how much he’s learned from our teachers.”

What he didn’t know was that Livia wasn’t worried about me getting hurt—she was afraid that, with my lack of control over my immense magic power, I might do something disastrous.

I extended my hand and unleashed more than ten “Wind Arrows,” their green glow trailing behind them as they shot toward Parker with sharp, ear-piercing whistles.

Parker praised, “Well done!” He moved with incredible agility, dodging through the gaps between the arrows, then lunged at me with his sword, aiming to engage me in close combat—an effective strategy against mages.

Most mages, focusing entirely on their magic studies, lack physical training and are vulnerable to close-quarters combat. Typically, they rely on warriors for protection.

But I was no ordinary mage.

Seeing Parker charge toward me, I smirked coldly and struck out with my hand, sharp as a blade, aiming a horizontal s***h at him.