Chapter 392

Chapter 392: The First of Baiyan

“Mason, kept you waiting.” Midi’s voice resonated through the Illusion Formation. “Time to end this.”

Though he wanted more practice, training consumed psychic energy recklessly.

Twenty minutes of fending off Mason’s relentless attacks had drained over seventy percent of Midi’s reserves. Against foes like Ice Hand, he’d push until his magic ran dry. But facing Mason demanded caution.

Underestimating this opponent might flip victory’s odds. Their true strengths neared parity—Mason stood at Level 61’s peak while Midi lingered at Level 60’s early stage, even disadvantaged in some aspects. Prudence dictated action before weakness set in.

His mind-related ability “environmental awareness” now reached master-level precision, pinpointing Mason’s location. Tracking hypersonic bullets, however, remained beyond its scope.

Rot solved that problem. The Eighth Apostle activated “mind-sharing,” sustaining “environmental awareness” at full intensity. Through this link, Midi perceived everything within the psychic ruler’s domain—a hyper-detailed reality.

Objects in motion. Magic’s ebb and flow. Whispers of thought. Airborne particles. Invisible gases. All revealed in crystalline clarity, organized into seamless patterns. Midi’s mind felt distilled to pure focus, every variable calculable. Surveillance became omniscience; control approached omnipotence.

Is this how supreme experts see the world?

Even his second awakening at Level 85 in his past life hadn’t granted such perception. Compared to Rot’s environmental awareness, his former senses resembled viewing reality through grimy cloth. Only now did true clarity exist.

The awe lasted but a heartbeat. This borrowed power wasn’t his. Obsession would reduce him to a psychic energy-addled wreck. His iron will rejected such seduction. To keep this clarity, he’d need true strength—crushing every enemy until becoming psychic energy’s undisputed ruler himself.

Psychic blue flames ignited in Midi’s eyes.

“Impossible!” Mason roared. “What twisted fortune made you this strong?!”

Empowered by Rot’s vision, Midi moved like an unstoppable war god.

Cutting down high-speed armor-piercing bullets?

Such childish actions were beneath Midi.

He didn’t need to lift a finger—not even drawing his sword. Simply walking toward Mason sufficed.

Under the Eighth Apostle’s environmental awareness, Mason’s every move, even fleeting thoughts, lay bare before Midi. Hostility, attacks, stance, muscle twitches, gun muzzle direction—all exposed.

Before Mason’s gun could point at him, Midi had already shifted from the targeted spot. He dodged attacks before they materialized!

This absolute evasion denied Mason any trigger-pulling opportunities. Each time Mason gathered magic to strike, Midi sidestepped the unlaunched assault, leaving the dark elf seething.

Midi traversed the Illusion Formation unhurriedly. A casual flick of his longsword sent Mason’s dual pistols clattering away. Cold steel kissed the dark elf’s throat.

“Your trump card?” Mason gritted, resisting the sword’s downward pressure on his shoulder.

“While you grew stronger, I grew faster. Isn’t that natural?” Midi answered calmly.

Mason’s bitter chuckle carried metallic tang. “You… keep evolving too.”

Last defeat cost his arms. Now escape routes vanished. Summoning another Demon Realm spider? Midi would slice it mid-summon.

“Good you understand.” Midi sheathed his blade. “Stop obsessing over past shadows and lingering Undead. That’s how you move forward.”

“No execution?” Mason blurted.

“Craving death?” Midi tilted his sword. “I’ll oblige.”

“No!” Mason shook his head wildly.

Watching the flustered dark elf, Midi smirked. Their previous duel had been life-or-death—a single misstep between victory’s peak and death’s abyss. Now? Effortless dominance. Though Eighth Apostle Rot’s powers helped, even without them, Mason stood no chance against flying skills and mind-related abilities.

He’d surpassed everyone’s growth. The realization warmed Midi’s heart.

“Truly sparing me?” Mason pressed.

Midi waved dismissively. “I sense killing intent. You harbor none. This was merely a selection battle—like our old clashes for personal goals. No extermination needed.”

A pragmatic commander, not bloodthirsty. Since Mason showed no vengeful emotions, mercy suited this slave ranking contest.

Why the need to fight to the death?

Knowing when to stop suffices.

Mason fell silent, momentarily at a loss. After a long pause, he abruptly performed intricate hand gestures. The Dark Barrier enveloping the arena dissolved instantly, and the all-concealing Illusion Formation vanished too.

Only Midi and Mason remained standing face-to-face in the arena.

Neither had died!

Both still breathed!

Who emerged victorious from this twenty-minute battle in the shadows?

As the Illusion Formation dissipated, the restless audience erupted. Spectators had speculated endlessly about possible outcomes, with some even urging judges to enter the formation "to prevent Wolfspider tribe’s underhanded schemes".

No judge took the bait. This remained merely a weekly slave warrior ranking match – a final bout, but ultimately insignificant. The arena contained both a long-reigning expert and an ascendant Killing God with apparent grudges. Any careless judge might become cannon fodder in their fierce clash.

Trapped by the formation’s nature and judges’ inaction, the crowd could only wait restlessly or place bets. Amid the chaos, Zaknavan waited calmly while Galantis paced the stands, nearly brawling with her Black Dragon Priestess rival – nearly sparking another "final match".

When the mist cleared, spectators saw Mason and Midi conversing peacefully at arm’s length. Why hadn’t the roaming gunslinger attacked? Why did this vicious human show restraint?

Surveying the roaring crowd, Mason smiled. With polished dark elf nobility manners, he bowed deeply to Midi.

"Midi Asreks," his resonant voice carried across the arena, "I thank you for sparing me. You’ll have Mason’s lifelong friendship!"

Before reactions could form, the dark elf raised his head and signaled the judge: "I concede. Midi’s superior."

Thus concluded the Baiyan selection’s final match.

Midi – a human – claimed first place in the weekly rankings.