Chapter 376

Chapter 376: The First Selection

When Midi stepped into the arena, a faint stir rippled through the stands.

For many years, the Wolfspider tribe had stuck to the same old routines—hunting, war, plundering, defense, and transactions. Their population inched upward at a sluggish pace.

But the arrival of Midi, a human, stirred up unexpected gossip in this quiet, hunter-driven tribe.

Low-level slave warrior selections usually drew no crowds. Only mid-level slave warriors bothered to attend, scouting future companions or rivals.

Now, though, a sizable crowd of Wolfspider tribesfolk filled the stands, buzzing at the sight of Midi.

The mix of cheers, jeers, and taunts made Midi briefly imagine himself back in the Sea of Clouds’ arenas.

“Who arranged this?” Galantis hissed, her face stormy. “Pairing Midi against that Lizardman?”

The message was clear: someone wanted her prized slave dead.

Across the stands, a young, sharp-eyed priestess twirled a gleaming magic dagger, smirking at Galantis.

Both were black dragon priestesses—and bitter rivals because of it.

Midi had become a pawn in their feud.

To the dark elves, a frail human facing the strongest low-level slave warrior meant certain death.

“Zaride, you snake!” Galantis muttered through gritted teeth. She dropped into her seat hard enough to crack the wood.

While the priestesses schemed, mid-level slave warriors watched from the opposite stands under guards’ surveillance. They laughed, hungry for entertainment.

Living on death’s edge left these slaves craving excitement.

What could thrill them more than watching a weak human get torn apart?

Yet among them sat a calm, handsome dark elf slave. Unlike the others, he didn’t jeer.

When Midi entered, the dark elf’s eyes narrowed. The human’s stance, movements, gaze—flawless.

In all his battles, he’d never seen such precision.

“That Lizardman’s in trouble,” the dark elf said. “The human’s dangerous.”

Dangerous? A human?

The claim should’ve been laughable. Yet no one chuckled. Warriors and guards alike froze, uneasy.

“Don’t believe me?” The dark elf shrugged. “Bet twenty silver. I say the human wins.”

“Waste of coins, Zaknavan,” a guard said, not unkindly.

“Oh?”

“Sure, the human’s got skill,” the guard admitted. “But last night, he humiliated the Lizardman. Now the beast won’t hold back. You know how deadly a serious Lizardman is.”

“True,” Zaknavan said, smiling faintly. “Still, I’ll bet.”

“Windfury City fools never learn,” the guard snorted. “Fine—I’ll take that bet.”

"Me too."

"And me!"

In an instant, several Wolfspider guards rallied to support their fellow tribesmember, launching silver coin bets against the slave warrior from City of Fierce Wind.

If Midi died here, the prisoner called Zaknavan would lose everything. Yet the latter showed no concern, calmly accepting the wager.

On the arena sands, the Lizardman was already growing impatient.

Though he’d suffered minor losses during yesterday’s scuffle, he attributed this to three factors:

First, Midi’s unpredictable fighting style – that human’s ability to manifest sword light from nothing had caught him off-guard.

Second, sheer dumb luck – this outsider’s blades had somehow found the weakest gaps between his protective scales.

Third and most critical: he’d underestimated his foe.

Now the Lizardman focused completely, leaving no room for carelessness. This was real bloodsport where veterans could fall to novice blades. Combined with yesterday’s lesson, he took extra precautions.

He’d donned full-body insect-shell armor that would crush a Knight’s steed in Arad, yet bore its weight effortlessly. His fists now wore black iron gauntlets – signature weapons of a Fighter.

Armed to the teeth and having reflected on yesterday’s mistakes, the Lizardman’s confidence peaked. He felt invincible. Midi stood no chance – this would be a slaughter.

Across the arena, Midi tested the weight of his curved blade and frowned. A fine weapon, but single-edged and too light for his liking. Today’s battle required flashy efficiency to impress the Wolfspider tribe, not drawn-out probing. This blade wouldn’t suffice.

His sword light could substitute weapons when barehanded, but magic-forged edges felt unnatural. While mind-related abilities or the Awakened Secret Technique "Sky Sword Dance" might work, those were trump cards not to be wasted here.

Midi grimaced – choices were limited. As a human, he still struggled adapting to the Shaded Realm’s dangers.

A whistling sound interrupted his thoughts. He snatched the airborne object from the air – his twin swords "Eliminate" and "Kill". Their thrower: his nominal mistress Galantis, the black dragon priestess.

"Your swords." She stated coldly from the stands before sitting, offering no explanation for this grudging kindness. Midi nodded thanks, spinning the familiar blades deftly.

"Come then." He taunted, jiggling his sword tips bullfighter-style at the Lizardman.

The insult worked instantly. Roaring, the armored reptile abandoned caution, charging like an enraged bull. At over 2 meters tall and level 60, his earth-shaking charge could shatter elite Cavalry formations back in Arad.

But Midi wasn’t the noble war rookie of old. Crossing his swords, he met the charge directly – honoring Rot’s teachings to "take hits, build endurance" rather than using Demon Shadow Flash evasions.

"Die!" The Lizardman bellowed, fists hammering air into explosive shockwaves – Fighter skill: Mountain Shatter!

Golden-Red Sword Lights enveloped Midi as he countered with identical force – Demon Swordman skill: Mountain Shatter!

Fist winds clashed with sword tempest, Dark Magic swirling wildly. Then – CRACK!

A massive form went airborne, painting crimson arcs before cratering the ground.

The Lizardman lay defeated in his pit.

Midi stood firm, armor dented but unmoved beyond few steps retreating. The stands erupted in chaos.