At the heart of the battlefield, amidst the ruins, Ron remained vigilant, carefully sensing the energy fluctuations around him.
Dust slowly descended, reflecting the dim light of blood-colored crystals, forming eerie beams of light in the air.
"Although the power is astonishing, it may not completely destroy him," Ron calculated clearly in his mind.
He knew very well that he did not possess the precise control over "Phoenix Breath," a spell far beyond his current capabilities, like Yuni did.
A large amount of energy would inevitably overflow and disperse in the explosion, making the chance of completely annihilating the clone very low.
As magic power flowed through the air, he could detect some residual life signs, weak yet stubbornly persisting.
If Master Yuni herself had cast this spell, even leaving a single atom of the clone would be considered lucky for it.
But the version he recorded through "Thousand Transformations," though terrifying in power, lacked that lethal precision.
Being able to severely wound the clone already aligned with his initial plan.
As Ron pondered, a slight tremor suddenly came from beneath the molten crystal at the center of the pit.
The thin glass-like surface began to tremble, with fine cracks spreading outward from the center, forming a web-like pattern.
Soon after, the thin glass-like surface was shattered from within.
Shards flew in all directions, and a charred, barely human form slowly crawled out from within.
The once handsome face was now unrecognizable, with skin cracked like charcoal, shedding fragments with every movement.
The once imposingly intimidating crimson-golden eyes were now dull, with only weak embers flickering in the sockets.
"So it wasn’t that easy to kill," Ron nodded, fully expecting this outcome.
In fact, he most hoped to see the enemy in such a half-crippled state.
If he had turned the clone to ashes in a single blow, it wouldn’t actually maximize his benefits.
Now, the clone’s power was significantly weakened, yet still intact enough, making it the perfect state for the Stand-In Puppet to absorb.
The charred figure staggered to its feet, like a demon climbing back from Hell.
With its movements, layers of carbonized skin fell away, revealing flesh writhing underneath.
The flesh squirmed unnaturally, attempting to fill in the gaps and wounds on the body.
In this peculiar environment, the wounds healed at a visibly slower pace than before.
The abyssal atmosphere surged from all directions, entangling the clone and accelerating its recovery.
Yet, this energy seemed unable to permeate fully, forming a barely-there mist on the surface before gradually dissipating into the air.
"You... you actually..."
The clone let out a hoarse voice, harsh as metal scraping, its crimson-golden eyes filled with disbelief and fury:
"How could you... possess such power..."
It staggered forward a few steps, its gait unsteady, completely losing its previous elegance and composure.
The once majestic energy fluctuations were now intermittent, like an oil lamp on the verge of extinguishing.
Ron quietly observed the clone’s recovery process, his hand already resting on the "Stand-In Puppet" at his waist.
He recalled the scene he had previously glimpsed:
The clone descended like the Grim Reaper, almost decimating the entire Crystal Tower’s elite team in an instant.
Even the awakened Oliver and Cynthia were no match for it.
Such overwhelming force was terrifying.
Yet now, this former terror was like a toddler, struggling even to stand.
Its breath was rapid and heavy, each inhale accompanied by painful hissing, like a damaged bellows.
"Stand-In Puppet, prepare for battle."
Ron removed the puppet from his waist, infusing it with part of his consciousness and magic power.
He could feel the puppet trembling slightly in his palm, seemingly eager for the impending battle and absorption.
The puppet rapidly expanded, inflating to adult size in just a few seconds.
Under the light, the puppet’s surface gleamed with a metallic luster, a change brought about by its previous fusion with the traits of the snake demon and scorpion.
The muscle lines were smooth and powerful, with explosive energy hidden in the joints, far more refined and dangerous than its initial clumsy doll form.
Most striking was the third arm extending from the right scapula.
Covered entirely in dark purple scales, its tips sharp as claws, emanating a bluish glow.
This was a special mutation from absorbing the scorpion venom gland, granting it far superior attack capabilities.
"Is this your secret weapon?" The clone let out a mocking laugh, the sound full of contempt:
"A wooden puppet? Is this thing worthy of opposing me?"
The clone could vaguely sense some energy trait within the puppet similar to its own.
It was like someone suddenly seeing their own reflection but finding the reflection with its own independent will.
But he was just trying to bluff.
"It’s not just an ordinary puppet," Ron said calmly, simultaneously using a spiritual link to maneuver the puppet forward:
"It actually prefers to call itself a ’stand-in.’ You know, it’s a genuine ’Abyssal Treasure’—you should be able to feel it, that kindred strength."