Chapter 462

Chapter 462: Qualification for the Challenge

The alchemist elder cast an admiring gaze at Midi before turning to nod at the family head. He sighed, “Truly remarkable. Who would have imagined such brilliant alchemy still exists on Arad!”

“Indeed. Even those unfamiliar with dismantling mechanisms would find this fascinating. It seems you possess vast experience in this field, Midi,” the family head remarked with a faint smile.

With the family head’s approval setting the tone, the other elders joined in praising Midi.

Veyna, who had remained quiet until now, shot Midi a playful glance. In a teasing tone, she said to the family head, “Since this boy’s so skilled with mechanisms, why not send him to the Crystal Dragon Fortress? He could do great things for the family. Don’t you agree?”

The room fell silent.

Though her words sounded lighthearted, none of the seasoned rulers present took them as a mere joke.

A position as a core member of the family—or a Mososbury City fighter—was no trivial matter.

Even the usually stoic family head looked startled.

Meanwhile, Midi felt a surge of relief—

*Those potions weren’t wasted after all!*

Over the past two weeks, he’d brewed countless Level 6 and 7 potions for Veyna—easily over twenty. Each could’ve sold for a fortune, yet he’d handed them to the priestess like water. Worse, most materials came from his own pocket.

Any ordinary alchemist would’ve gone bankrupt. Only Midi could withstand Veyna’s demands—or rather, treat them as investments. And investments demanded scale.

Though he’d worried whether the potions were worth it, Veyna’s words now erased all doubts.

Despite her domineering nature—even surpassing Galantis’s willfulness—she delivered when it counted.

*No wonder she’s the Death Scorpion family’s high priestess.*

Midi had originally planned to subtly steer conversations toward the fighter recommendation. But doing so might’ve exposed his intentions.

Now, Veyna’s casual suggestion shielded him completely, placing him in an undefeatable position.

Her joke had struck the Death Scorpion’s weak spot.

The family head fell silent, deep in thought.

The enforcement elder, however, scowled at Veyna. “A joke? We have a hundred genius Warriors but only five core members—each rigorously tested. And you’d hand that title to a human who’s been here two weeks? Reckless!”

Midi smirked inwardly—this was the opening he needed.

“So even after creating Level 7 potions and contributing mechanical blueprints, I’m still deemed unworthy as a human,” Midi cut in coldly. “The core member title means little to me. But since it’s raised, forget it. I’ll earn my Mososbury City fighter status through the selection.”

In that moment, the calm young man vanished, replaced by a blade’s sharp edge—his intensity silencing dissent.

The enforcement elder sneered, thrilled by Midi’s defiance.

But the family head stayed silent. Unlike the elder, he couldn’t act on personal bias. His duty was to prioritize the family’s interests above all.

Did Midi benefit the Death Scorpion?

Undoubtedly. Beyond the two astonishing mechanical blueprints, his ability to craft Level 7 potions alone justified the family’s efforts to protect him.

His hour-long lecture on dismantling mechanisms and magic arrays further proved his exceptional expertise—expertise crucial for the imminent Crystal Dragon Fortress expedition.

The Death Scorpion had long coveted the fortress’s treasures and heritage. Midi’s inclusion in the exploration team would be invaluable.

Even if Midi joined Mososbury City’s Fighter Selection, the family head had no doubt he’d prevail through sheer swordsmanship and still reach the fortress.

Yet earning a fighter qualification through personal effort differed entirely from receiving a family recommendation.

Having joined merely two weeks prior, Midi held zero loyalty to the Death Scorpion. Conversely, the family meant equally little to him.

His current resources and status stemmed solely from his own skills. His relationship with the family wasn’t built on bonds, but pure transaction—a deal he could make with any other house.

If Midi could secure the qualification independently, what value did the Death Scorpion hold for him?

A family that ceases to benefit its members faces one outcome: abandonment.

The extreme alternative—eliminating Midi to hoard his skills—would only hasten the family’s decline. No wise leader would destroy talent they couldn’t retain.

As Midi’s rebellious defiance surfaced, the family head saw only one path: lavish the young man with irresistible incentives, binding him permanently to the Death Scorpion.

A thousand calculations crystallized into a single pronouncement: "It would be unjust to deny a fighter’s qualification to such talent." The family head’s gaze settled on Midi in the hall’s center.

Success.

Midi’s pulse quickened. Countless sleepless nights in psychic training, intricate schemes, potion tributes to Veyna—all culminated in this moment.

The cunning family head’s moves had been transparent to this human noble. Yet what effort that "transparency" had demanded!

With the endorsement secured, victory was certain. Still, Midi maintained his defiant front: "As a newcomer, I require no special recommendation—"

"My decision stands." The family head cut him off. "You’ve earned this recommendation. I expect you to claim Mososbury City fighter status swiftly."

"Then I accept gratefully." Midi bowed slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Save gratitude. Tradition demands one final step." The family head leaned forward. "Midi Asreks, will you face the qualification challenge?"

This trial defined the Death Scorpion and most Shaded Realm families. Five core disciples had earned their spots months earlier—when Midi first arrived, fighting to shed his slave brand.

The remaining ninety-five warriors could either enter the city’s general selection or challenge these elites. But challengers needed family approval, granted only to those demonstrating unique skills or contributions.

Victors claimed qualifications; losers forfeited all Black Dragon Conference rights.

The family head could grant Midi challenge rights, not revoke existing qualifications. Even for prized recruits, rules remained unbroken.

For Midi, this sufficed.

The smoke-choked battlefield—this was his true domain.