Chapter 244

Chapter 244: The Verbal Skirmish

The next day, in the afternoon.

Within the mansion district of the floating island housing the Sky Arena.

Inside an elegant villa blending luxury with classical design, Midi sat across from a woman clad in pure white, framed by towering floor-to-ceiling windows.

An impeccably dressed old steward poured steaming black tea for both, then bowed and retreated behind the woman like a silent guardian.

This woman was Victoria Rothschild, youngest daughter of the Rothschild Guild’s leader.

“Lady Victoria, I’m a straightforward man. If you want something done, name your terms. If the price suits me, I’ll take the job,” Midi said after sipping his tea, flashing an easy smile. Though the atmosphere seemed relaxed, his focus rivaled the intensity he’d shown while battling Batolun, the Bloody Killing Sword.

This room was another battlefield—one without smoke or blood, where only wits clashed. And here, Midi felt painfully out of his depth.

He’d negotiated with West Coast maritime families and guilds before, but commerce had never been his strength. The Sea of Clouds operated by different rules, ones he’d neglected during his year of exploration. To compensate, he’d stalled Victoria’s invitation for a full day to assert leverage. Still, he couldn’t afford mistakes. His strategy: control the conversation’s flow before she could entangle him in verbal webs.

But Victoria Rothschild wasn’t one to follow scripts.

The heavenly beauty with chestnut hair and emerald eyes smiled, her teacup poised gracefully. “Straight to business—I admire that. Your recent victories inspired our offer. The Rothschild Guild seeks your services as a trade route guard. Your presence alone would deter sky pirates.”

Where trade thrived, bandits followed. Mountains bred robbers, seas bred pirates, and skies bred their own predators. Rumor claimed some sky pirate fleets boasted over a dozen skyships—outmatching human forces that arrived barely a year ago.

“Sky pirates…” Midi’s eyes narrowed.

“We understand high-tier gladiators must fight monthly,” Victoria added smoothly. “We’ll align missions with your Sky Arena schedule. Emergencies might require flexibility, but those are rare—perhaps once yearly. Any missed matches would be compensated generously.”

She slid a platinum-edged contract across the table. The terms startled him: ten times his arena earnings, plus crystalline Radiance of Light—not mere powder. Every possible objection had been anticipated.

For most gladiators, this was irresistible. Beyond the hundredth floor, earnings meant nothing against training costs, social obligations, and retinue expenses. Most sought patronage from powerful factions.

As Belmar’s ruler, Midi found the offer trivial. But for “Blade,” the lone human gladiator? Perfection.

Yet something felt hollow. Victoria controlled the dialogue entirely. Asking “How did your guild breach the Stormy Region?” would be amateurish, but he needed an opening—any crack in her polished facade.

Otherwise, once both parties’ roles were settled, if he ended up becoming the head of the guard through routine procedures, acting would become complicated. He might even have to resort to spying for intelligence.

Spying, being a form of violence, naturally carried risks of exposure. If possible, Midi preferred to minimize such methods.

"Lady Victoria, I’m quite satisfied with your offer," Midi said, clearing his throat. His obsidian-black eyes calmly met hers, his gaze piercing yet steady. "But precisely because I’m so satisfied, I must ask—why choose a drifter like me with an unknown background?"

Instead of showing impatience, Victoria’s emerald-green eyes glinted with approval.

Faced with lavish terms, this man hadn’t become greedy or smug. He’d remained composed and asked the critical question—something no ordinary gladiator could manage. This black-haired, black-eyed youth had risen above mere brute strength. He was genuine talent.

If I survive this crisis, perhaps I can make him my direct subordinate, Victoria mused. As she weighed her response, sharp knocks echoed through the tea room’s thick nanmu door.

"Lady Victoria, it’s me." A smooth male voice followed.

Seems the stalemate breaks. Midi’s brows relaxed slightly. Anyone disrupting this tense moment was welcome.

But was this newcomer another shrewd merchant like Victoria Rothschild? Someone easily manipulated? Or just background decor like old steward Lund?

The visitor was a level 58 Awakened gunner—golden-haired, handsome, mid-twenties, bearing the tall frame typical of the People of the Heavens.

Midi instantly noticed the man’s poorly concealed infatuation in the way he gazed at Victoria.

"This is Idak, my guard captain," Victoria introduced tersely, her smile strained. Clearly, he’d crashed their meeting uninvited.

Midi wasn’t obtuse. Two lifetimes’ experience told him this guy’s jealousy over Victoria’s private tea session had spurred this intrusion.

But how dared a mere Rothschild Guild guard captain—heavenly lineage notwithstanding—openly covet his social superior? The status gap between them was astronomical.

Oddly, the Guild’s invitation itself felt rushed. Why instantly recruit someone after one victory? Didn’t merchants value loyalty above power?

Midi’s eyes suddenly sharpened—he’d glimpsed Victoria’s true motive.

"Did I interrupt something?" The gunner smiled sunnily, ignoring old Lund’s disapproving glare.

"We were discussing why you’d hire a Lower Realm human so generously," Midi said pointedly, drawing out each word.

Idak blinked, then boomed laughter. "Isn’t it obvious? Mr. Blade’s strong enough! Sure, he can’t match my aerial combat skills, but he’ll do as guard captain! Lady Victoria always snaps up talent!"

The flimsy excuse brimmed with tells. Enough for Midi to piece together the truth.

Midi smiled innocently. "Well said, Mr. Idak. I accept the Rothschild Guild’s invitation."