Chapter 381

Chapter 381: Ranking Competition

Though the White Rock Cave’s motto claimed "All matters get settled through competition," some still schemed outside the arena.

Midi harbored no illusions about this being a rule-bound place. Power ruled supreme here. His task became simple—display strength even beyond formal matches.

Blood Hand, the dark elf Demon Swordman, curled his lips in contempt as Midi approached. "Human," he drawled, deliberately eyeing Zaknavan, "they say you’re cozying up to this fugitive. Trust me—that path leads to ugly deaths."

"Think I scare that easy?" Midi chuckled.

Beside them, the mage Ice Hand narrowed his eyes. "Listen well. Challenge us tomorrow, and you’ll face endless battles first. This points competition means fighting through waves before reaching us. Most fights? You’ll struggle."

Cheers erupted from slave warriors crowding around—allies of the two bullies. Only Zaknavan’s faction, those who’d witnessed Midi’s selection match, booed weakly.

The scene clarified White Rock Cave’s dynamics. Top fighters cultivated factions through favors, promises, or traded contribution points. Zaknavan’s late arrival and meager points left him with fewer supporters than Blood Hand or Ice Hand. Reaching third rank spoke volumes about his grit—and why he urgently sought partnership with Midi.

The threats barely registered. After clashing with the Lizardman, Midi had shifted tactics. No more meticulous calculations for optimal paths—now he smashed through obstacles. Some things defied planning, like Death’s Pursuit Order. If he couldn’t endure this attrition, how survive the Demon Realm’s hunters?

Freshly mastering "environmental awareness," Midi actually welcomed these thugs as practice dummies. "You reckon this rabble can stop me?" He flashed a mocking gesture at the crowd.

Hotheaded slave warriors erupted. Only ingrained discipline stopped several from lunging—attacking now meant risking lightning arrows and tomorrow’s rank plummet.

Voices filled the cave with crude shouts, some intelligible, others not. Then—sudden silence. Warriors kept shouting, yet no sound emerged.

Blood Hand and Ice Hand, the duo, both wore shocked expressions and raised their defensive stances.

"What did you do?"

They wanted to shout at Midi, but found their own voices had disappeared the moment they opened their mouths.

Under their feet, a translucent demon array silently pulsed.

Ghost Cry skill – Silence Array!

This demon array was created to silence large areas, preventing mages from casting spells.

But mages could attack from much farther than Demon Swordmen. By the time the Silence Array activated, battles were usually already decided.

Even if a Demon Swordman closed the distance and cast it, mages still had non-verbal spells.

Like teleportation.

A single thought could take them beyond the array’s range, making it useless.

That’s why everyone knew about the Silence Array, but few used it.

Now, it found perfect use.

As Midi predicted, the White Rock Cave’s magic array didn’t activate since Silence Array caused no damage. No lightning arrows shot out.

He could freely use it to muzzle all voices.

In this word-based battlefield, he’d forced silence upon others.

Better yet, he could let his voice remain – just as the Nether Flame Array spared its caster, the Silence Array obeyed his will.

"Enough games." Midi finally spoke. "You want a battle of attrition? I’ll play. But prepare to pay with your lives."

His calm voice carried steel-edged resolve, like the crack of a whip.

The silencing array and Midi’s death warning snapped slave warriors from their mocking frenzy. Some began calculating – was currying favor with Ice Hand’s faction worth the risk?

"Save your breath. We’ll let swords talk tomorrow." Midi shot the dark elf duo a cold look before retreating to his room and slamming the door.

The ranking competition began next morning, thick with tension.

Simple rules: points system.

Forty-five high-level slave warriors divided into five teams of nine.

Each fighter battled all eight teammates. Top five scorers per team qualified for missions.

Win: +1 point. Lose: -1 point.

One loss required two wins just to break even. Three consecutive wins created a two-point gap.

Victory was rewarded, failure harshly punished.

Zaknavan advised aiming for eight straight wins. Ties among top scorers would trigger final matches between them.

Lose once in the initial rounds, and finals became impossible.

Looking around, Midi noticed clever team assignments.

Last week’s top five were split as reigning champions across different teams.

Each team balanced strength – sixth and seventh placers separated, preventing "death groups" from eliminating strong fighters early.

The Wolfspider tribe clearly designed this to identify true talent.

By cruel luck or design, last-ranked Midi wasn’t grouped with Zaknavan.

Instead, he landed in Ice Hand’s team – mostly yesterday’s hecklers. Four clearly followed the dark elf mage. The rest were wild cards.

Then Midi saw them – the legendary top two fighters.

Rarely seen in White Rock Cave due to constant missions, they only appeared for competitions.

Two male dark elf roaming gunslingers.

The pair reminded him instantly of Hawk Brigade’s sister duo – "Spark Dual Pistols" Odel and "Butterfly Dual Pistols" Alyn.

More shocking – one gunslinger was someone Midi and the sisters knew well!