Chapter 394

Chapter 394: Magical Iron Chain

When Zaride spoke, Zaknavan’s brows furrowed instantly.

The invitation arrived too abruptly, catching them completely off guard.

This couldn’t be genuine—it felt more like a test.

Zaknavan worried Midi might misspeak and anger the imposing Black Dragon Priest, so he urgently signaled the black-haired human.

Yet Midi, a noble well-versed in political maneuvering, needed no coaching. Such straightforward tests were child’s play in Arad’s courts.

"Your invitation honors me," Midi answered smoothly. "Once freed and recognized as a Tribe Warrior, I’ll gladly share Arad’s wonders with all."

A masterful reply. He avoided refusal while implying eagerness to cooperate, yet promised nothing concrete. By invoking his slave status, he bought weeks of time—Zaride couldn’t push further without revealing her hand prematurely.

"My friend," Zaknavan remarked after they left the elder council hall, "you must’ve been nobility from a human kingdom." Having lived in the City of Fierce Wind, he recognized aristocratic wit when he heard it.

"That life’s behind me," Midi shrugged.

"Good. Getting tangled in Zaride and Galantis’s antonym would doom slave warriors like us." Zaknavan adjusted his iron collar. "Respect won’t stop them using us as cannon fodder."

They navigated the cavern’s narrowing passages, past Wolfspider warriors guarding the tunnel to the Shaded Realm. Their magical chains and prior clearance spared them scrutiny.

Beyond the tribe’s borders, the wilderness stretched before them. Zaknavan drew his longsword. "Let’s explore."

For six hours, the seasoned Explorer moved silently through the darkness, guided solely by memories. The cavern’s zenith pressed low overhead as they ventured deeper, leaving all traces of tribe politics behind.

Midi activated his environmental awareness and followed closely.

However, his current thoughts weren’t about completing the mission, but rather—

how to disable the magical iron chain around his neck.

Slave warriors and magical iron chains were common traditions in the Shaded Realm.

Becoming a slave warrior after being rescued was normal.

Wearing a magical iron chain during missions was standard practice.

Even proud elites like Zaknavan and Mason showed no resentment toward these customs.

But Midi wasn’t a dark elf—he was a surface-dwelling human.

Though he’d reluctantly accepted entering dark elf society as a slave, he refused to tolerate an explosive collar.

Back in the Wolfspider tribe’s cavern, even unarmed and surrounded by guards, he could’ve escaped easily using his "Sky Sword Dance" flying skill and psychic burst. Ten bunkers couldn’t have contained him.

He’d seemed vulnerable yet remained in control.

Now, despite being in the open wilderness, the chain threatened him—any priestess could detonate it remotely.

Worse, it wasn’t placed by Galantis but her rival.

Who knew if that man Zaride had tampered with it?

Even untouched, Midi wouldn’t endure a neck-bound bomb.

This wasn’t about honor or pride—it was survival.

The chain had to go.

And it must be done without alerting the black dragon priestesses.

All his efforts to infiltrate the Black Dragon Conference through the Wolfspider tribe would collapse otherwise.

The Eighth Apostle Rot could dismantle it effortlessly.

Yet Midi stayed silent.

He’d try alone first.

Relying on others contradicted his warrior’s path.

After six wilderness hours and minor battles, Zaknavan found a rest cave.

"Need light?" Zaknavan offered.

"No. I’ll meditate to recover magic."

Midi feigned meditation while channeling the Spirit Dragon Sword.

Deep blue psychic energy seeped into the chain.

Mind-related abilities. Environmental awareness.

But now he probed the chain’s interior instead of surroundings.

The psychic flow revealed every detail, as if he wielded the All-Seeing Demon’s vision.

At its core lay a secret silver magic array.

This let priestesses track location, sense wearer’s emotions, and detonate it.

Location tracking didn’t bother him—disabling that would mark him a fugitive.

He targeted the attack components.

Time to test high-level mind-related abilities from the Sea Emperor’s legacy.

Mind Shield!

Mind Refinement!

The Spirit Dragon Sword hummed.

Maintaining environmental awareness, he deployed both skills.

Mind Shield masked his actions from the priestesses.

Mind Refinement reconfigured the hair-thin secret silver array.

Though inexperienced with magic arrays, Rot guided him.

Melding and reshaping microscopic contact points took thirty minutes.

As understanding grew, Midi abandoned his initial plan to remove the trigger. Instead, he excised the explosive dark magic crystal—"hair crystal"—while preserving the trigger.

Now safe.

A defused bomb might still explode from impact. But a trigger without explosives? Harmless.

Using Star Shift, he extracted the black filament-like crystals.

Examining them, Midi exhaled.

No more threats.

Now the true mission could start.