Chapter 243

Chapter 243: Invitation

Was he truly this powerful?

Was this the might of a Perfect Awakened One?

Was this the level of Secret Techniques possessed by a Perfect Awakened One?

Waves of astonishment bubbled like springs within every spectator’s mind.

In the arena, Batolun coughed up dark blood, his face turning paper-white.

The death of his contracted demon god brought severe backlash. His innards felt churned into knots as his thinking grew foggy.

Unlike Midi, most Demon Swordmen bonded with multiple demon gods, hosting their projections. Normally balanced, these projections would destabilize if one got eliminated abnormally – shattering the wielder’s equilibrium and damaging their Soul itself.

In Batolun’s state, even if spared or surviving by luck, he’d become crippled soon.

Thus, the Berserker chose to fight until death.

Not for victory, but for vengeance – to drag that damned human whelp down to hell!

The poisonous thought spread through his heart like rampant vines.

Batolun roared like a wounded beast, bloodlight erupting from his body as he charged Midi with raised greatsword.

Blood Frenzy, Blood Awakening, Death Resistance…

And his Berserker Awakening Skill: Blood Rage!

He recklessly activated skill after skill, draining his magic and remaining Vitality.

His aura suddenly exploded, mimicking an unstoppable expert.

Fueled by these powers, he launched a suicidal slash at Midi.

The crimson sword strike fell like a bloody waterfall, carving a thirty-meter crevice into the arena floor.

The impact shook the stadium like an earthquake. Yellow sand surged like tidal waves, crashing against the containment magic array’s edges in dust-cloud explosions.

Blood-scented whirlwinds tore through the air.

Yet amidst this devastation, the black-haired youth stood motionless upon the greatsword’s edge.

His war robe snapped like a victory flag in the scorching wind.

Light as a cloud-eagle yet heavy as a mountain – despite Batolun’s enhanced strength, he couldn’t budge the blade bearing Midi’s weight.

"Ended." Midi coldly declared, watching the Berserker strain against the hilt. His Sun blade flashed downward.

Azure light split the air. A head soared skyward, dead eyes wide open.

"Lady Victoria! This man could aid our plight! As Bait, he’d stall your brothers effectively!"

An elderly voice quivered with excitement in a lavish VIP box.

The speaker was an aged People of the Heavens – white-haired, silk-clad, standing stiffly upright except when bowing respectfully.

Clearly a major family’s steward, he attended his master seated regally on crimson velvet.

She was an eighteen-year-old girl of the People of the Heavens.

Her wavy brown hair and emerald eyes framed delicate features. A white gown embroidered with floral patterns draped her figure, silk gloves covering her hands. Crystal spectacles with thin golden frames perched on her small nose. The pure ancient bloodline of her race gifted this newly adult woman with a tall, captivating physique that even lavish clothing couldn’t hide.

Had Midi stood before her, he’d have instantly recognized Victoria Rothschild – the future president of Rothschild Guild who’d supplied equipment to humanity’s Explorer army in his past life.

Yet as the old steward’s manner revealed, in Arad Calendar 988, this Victoria remained merely "Lady" without control over her family’s Guild.

"Perhaps, Uncle Lund. Mr. Blade’s strength approaches a floor master’s level." Victoria stared at Midi bowing in the arena before sighing. "But aerial warfare differs from grounded battles. Can he truly manage that mission?"

"Forgive my bluntness, Lady Victoria. We’ve little time left for evaluations." Steward Lund smiled bitterly.

The VIP box fell silent until the girl’s clear voice resumed:

"You’re right. Rather than let my foolish brothers profit, we’ll gamble everything. Uncle Lund, arrange my meeting with Mr. Blade. I’ll persuade him."

As Midi predicted, defeating the high-tier gladiator on Sky Arena’s hundredth floor cemented his reputation.

Beyond Rothschild Guild, other powerful factions extended olive branches post-match.

"Wanderer Guild invites you as their guard." Dark elf secretary Avril opened the first document.

"Decline politely," Midi answered.

The sky-gazing Wanderers focused on returning People of the Heavens to their homeland – irrelevant to Midi’s Stormy Region goals. Their Heavenborn core would forever keep him peripheral regardless of strength.

"Blue Truth Sect wants you as their envoy."

Midi’s face tightened. "Refuse them. Carefully. Politely. Absolutely."

This Stormy Region-based behemoth backed by a supreme expert worried Midi most in Sea of Clouds. Their baptismal brainwashing prevented infiltration. Even their Sky Arena floating island temple revealed formidable influence.

Their higher-ups surpassed even Hand of Nightmare Wiseman’s madness. While that cynical man hid cruelty behind jokes, Blue Truth bishops genuinely believed their fanatical doctrines.

True lunatics wielding power? Midi wouldn’t provoke them. History foretold eventual war between Stormy Region factions and this sect – but not yet.

"Mr. Blade fears something?" Avril giggled behind her hand.

The observant dark elf had learned seduction failed, but her master wasn’t heartless. Casual jokes actually improved their rapport. Maybe when closer…?

Smiling privately, she opened another document:

"Rothschild Guild invites you as convoy guard. They request urgent talks."

"Accept." Midi responded instantly.

Though convoy duty sounded mundane, "urgent talks" hinted deeper needs. Belmar nobility instincts sensed Rothschild’s interest went beyond his strength to some secret desperation.

He’d learn during meeting. Having targeted Rothschild Guild, Midi didn’t hesitate.

Avril blinked at his decisiveness but knew her place. Dark elves understood boundaries. Curiosity wouldn’t make her question.

Recovering, she curtsied with deliberate allure before leaving to arrange matters.

Rothschild Guild finally bit?

Whose pawn are you really?

Midi silently wondered, watching the dark elf’s retreating figure.