Chapter 383

Chapter 383: Unstoppable Force

Half-giants were creatures born through special magic, their existence revolving around slaughter.

Though Lizardmen were renowned for their immense power, half-giants surpassed even them in raw strength.

While Lizardmen relied on scaly armor for protection, half-giants could directly harden their skin to achieve greater defense.

Simply put, this guy was an enhanced version of a Lizardman—the sole difference being his lack of a tail.

Yet due to their towering stature, half-giants boasted a longer attack range than tail-using Lizardmen, making their strikes harder to evade.

Since arriving at the Wolfspider tribe, Midi had displayed a straightforward, aggressive fighting style. Most believed the half-giant perfectly countered him.

Under Ice Hand’s direction, the half-giant threw a crude, mocking gesture at Midi and bellowed loud enough to echo through the arena: “Human! Dare to face me head-on?”

“Gladly. I’ll make your death quick,” Midi replied with a faint smile.

He’d been seeking a powerful opponent to act as his Grinding Stone—this half-giant’s taunt was exactly what Midi had hoped for.

“You’re dead!” The half-giant roared, his voice thunderous.

His colossal frame then launched forward with absurd speed, crossing dozens of meters in an instant like a falling mountain.

A direct hit wouldn’t just obliterate Midi—it might shatter the ground beneath him.

Most level 60 practitioners would’ve had no choice but to dodge such an overwhelming attack.

But Midi didn’t retreat.

Not out of misplaced pride or anger at the provocation.

He’d chosen this brutal method to hone himself. If he couldn’t endure mere training, how could he survive Death’s Pursuit Order?

Moreover, what others saw as a devastating strike appeared riddled with flaws to Midi.

“Let me teach you how to fly,” Midi sneered.

The stone arena cracked beneath his feet as immense pressure erupted, spiderweb fissures spreading wildly. This force launched Midi upward like a cannon shell, golden-red sword light condensing around him until he became one with his blade—a single lethal thrust.

The descending giant and rising sword-light collided midair.

A deafening crash reverberated through the cavernous arena, echoing like rolling thunder across the Wolfspider tribe’s underground settlement.

Scorching blood rained down, mingled with gore and viscera.

The half-giant’s corpse plummeted like a broken kite—not onto the arena, but into a distant tribal street. The impact carved a massive crater, embedding the body like a meteorite strike.

Midi landed precisely where he’d leaped, boots scraping stone. The arena bore no trace of movement—only cracks radiating from his original stance.

From his pale complexion, Midi’s blood and energy surged violently, with multiple wounds bleeding across his body.

Yet this could still be called a flawless victory.

Knocking a Lizardman away was one thing—but a half-giant? That was another matter entirely!

A half-giant wasn’t just towering in height but also staggeringly heavy due to dense muscles.

Facing such a crushing descent head-on? While countermeasures existed, no one in the Wolfspider tribe could meet such force directly.

Yet Midi did it.

The “frail” human despised by dark elves achieved it effortlessly.

He didn’t even brace himself. With barely a bend in his knees, he shattered the stone floor as he leapt, slamming into the half-giant like a crimson hammer.

The half-giant was sent flying and killed.

Simple. Direct. Brutal. Unbelievable.

Rumors about Midi had already spread through the Wolfspider tribe. After his victory over the Lizardman, most dark elf spectators thought they were prepared.

They believed Midi wasn’t truly weak—perhaps even skilled.

But none expected such overwhelming dominance!

The arena plunged into silence.

The hush unnerved the four other slave warrior groups mid-battle, their clashes growing chaotic.

Mason, having just defeated his opponent, finally glanced over.

But his white group stood farthest from Midi’s red group. He saw only Midi’s back, not his face.

“A human?” Cold malice flickered in the dark elf’s eyes.

Having lost his hands to Midi before, Mason harbored only hatred.

That human’s silhouette stirred an unsettling familiarity.

The unease gnawed at Mason’s calm, sparking irritation.

“Even if you killed a half-giant, you’re nothing to me. I’ll riddle you with holes,” Mason sneered. “But first, survive Ice Hand.”

Midi knew meeting Mason would be hostile—but hadn’t imagined his mere back would provoke such killing intent.

Now, Midi sat waiting for his next match as the half-giant’s mangled corpse was hauled back, causing murmurs.

The half-giant’s arms were pulp. His caved chest resembled a battering ram’s strike.

All from a human’s leap?

Dark elves masked their shock. Red group slave warriors eyed Midi warily.

Ice Hand, who’d vowed to kill Midi, scowled in silence.

Yet Midi knew: when the half-giant jumped, the battle was already decided.

The key was total momentum—speed multiplied by mass.

The half-giant had mass and height but no ground-shattering leap. For Midi, who’d once rammed the Fury Cruiser, this was trivial.

Though smaller, Midi’s speed reigned supreme.

He’d tapped into "Sky Sword Dance," accelerating mid-air.

Meanwhile, the half-giant, gravity-bound, became a motionless target at his peak.

By the time the half-giant began descending, Midi was already upon him.

United with his sword, Midi’s Golden-Red Sword Lights pierced effortlessly. Even the Fury Cruiser’s armor had fallen to his "Eliminate" and "Kill" blades—a half-giant was nothing.

Midi let his body absorb the impact, sustaining injuries but feeling the Spirit Dragon Sword’s aura sharpen within.

If refined further, even the Eighth Apostle Rot’s “thin” Dragon’s Blood might thicken, boosting Midi’s physique and recovery.

Level. Bloodline. Magic. Psychic energy. All needed growth. Only then could he challenge the demon nobility.

“I need more direct battles,” Midi muttered, wiping blood as his veins burned.

His chance came swiftly.

“Red Nine versus Red One!”

Ice Hand versus Midi—the inevitable clash began.