Chapter 239

Chapter 239: Reactions from All Sides

The mysterious arena newcomer "Blade" would battle "Bloody Killing Sword" Batolun in three days!

When arena officials announced this news, the hundredth floor erupted in chaos.

"Bloody Killing Sword" Batolun was a veteran expert. Long ago during his early days on the hundredth floor, he’d single-handedly defeated three opponents in a team battle’s final moments—killing all three, with the last victim being brutally slaughtered. The scene was so savage that veteran audience members reportedly vomited repeatedly while watching. The arena eventually had to use cleaning magic to scrub away chunks of flesh and bloodstains.

That battle earned Batolun his fearsome nickname. Now a renowned figure, his level had climbed from 51 to 56 over the years.

Meanwhile, Midi remained a level 51 rookie.

After awakening, levels held far greater significance than before. Below level 50, adventurers could challenge opponents ten levels higher using terrain advantages or powerful weapons, as raw power mattered less and external factors heavily influenced battles.

But awakened weapons required their wielder’s magic to function. A weakling holding a divine weapon stayed weak, while a true expert could multiply their power with even ordinary steel. Each post-awakening level brought clear combat improvements, with every five levels causing a qualitative leap as accumulated power integrated into new forms.

Though Midi’s dominance led arena spectators, commentators, and managers to theorize he was a "Perfect Awakened One," perfect awakening only indicated potential—not the ability to bridge five levels. Moreover, his toughest opponent during his climb from the fiftieth floor had been a level 54 frenzied sky bone crab.

Batolun would be Midi’s first foe above level 55.

Who would win? No one knew. Battle records revealed basic speed and power metrics, but real combat defied simple comparisons. Could someone with 100 strength always beat 90? Only clashing blades would tell.

One certainty emerged from their histories: both Midi and Batolun fought with utter ruthlessness, sparing few who faced their swords. This guaranteed their upcoming duel would be as blood-soaked as it was unpredictable.

"What are the betting odds?" demanded a sharp voice in a hundredth-floor mansion.

The speaker stood towering and lean, his celestial features coldly handsome. A bloodlight-drenched greatsword taller than a man leaned nearby, its edge radiating murderous chill. This was Batolun himself—the level 56 Berserker Midi had challenged.

"Official odds are 1 to 1.25. The underground rings… 1 to 1.03," whispered his People of the Heavens steward, adopting unprecedented subservience to avoid his master’s wrath.

A metallic crunch followed. Batolun crushed an Elven-crafted silver goblet, wine spilling like blood from a wound. "Insolent worms! They’d use me to elevate some human trash?" he snarled, eyes blazing crimson.

Odds reflected victory predictions. The arena’s 1:1.25 ratio politely suggested Batolun held 25% advantage. But the underground’s 1:1.03 essentially declared the match even—a brutal insult to the veteran warrior.

One was a level 56 renowned expert from the People of the Heavens, boasting countless glorious achievements above the 100th floor. The other was merely a level 51 newly Awakened One whose highest battle record involved defeating a level 54 crab, belonging to the weaker human race.

The nearly 1:1 odds between such mismatched opponents felt like an intolerable insult to the proud Batolun, who’d rarely met worthy rivals. "I’ll tear that human brat apart in three days and feed his remains to the demon god!" The Berserker crushed a silver goblet into a metal sphere with his bare hand. "Then we’ll see who dares doubt Batolun’s strength!"

Midi’s composure contrasted sharply with Batolun’s rage. Combined with the arena’s lavish promotions, the audience’s fervent discussions, secret observations from powerful factions, and other gladiators’ attention, these elements formed an invisible storm swirling around the grand arena at the 100th floor’s heart.

Three days vanished like smoke. Seated in his preparation room, Midi methodically inspected his Twin Swords while tidal waves of cheers echoed through the stone walls. His calm gaze mirrored his usual training routine.

As a reincarnator, Midi fully understood the significance of facing a level 56 opponent. In his past life at the Sea of Clouds, he’d clashed with such experts countless times, intimately grasping their combat awareness and tactics. Being an Awakened One of Extraordinary Awakening allowed him to calculate approximate power balances and victory probabilities beforehand.

Yet he remained vigilant. Battles were ever-changing, never guaranteed. Moreover, this wasn’t just about winning – he needed a spectacular victory that would shock every spectator.

Arena battles were performances at their core. Two gladiators brawling in some alleyway held no value without witnesses. Only before roaring crowds could battles become true competitions that earned Radiance of Light and the Rothschild Guild’s favor.

This 100th-floor debut was Midi’s proving ground. He couldn’t afford carelessness.

"VIP seats status?" Midi asked while securing his swords.

"Packed solid," answered Avril. The dark elf girl had swapped her maid uniform for a seductive secretary outfit – tight blazer emphasizing her curves, mini-skirt showcasing slender legs. Her seduction attempts remained obvious.

"All factions present?" Midi internally sighed at her attire.

"The Blue Truth Sect, Wanderers Guild, Sword and Blade Guild, Nature Heart Association, Rothschild Guild…" Avril recited smoothly. Though targeting Rothschild, Midi listened impassively.

Avril remained an outsider. As secretary, she handled logistics but wasn’t trusted with his true motives. He’d approach the guild himself… after victory.

Now only one thing mattered – crushing "Bloody Killing Sword."

Midi rose. Stone pillars framed his path through weapon-lined halls until white steel gates parted before him. The continent of Arad’s strongest Demon Swordman, "Sword of Victory and Guardian," entered the sand-strewn arena.

"Blade! Blade! Blade!"

Cheers crashed like endless tides. Across the yellow sands, Batolun pointed his crimson greatsword at Midi – a silent challenge burning in his eyes.