Chapter 305: Hight Stats
The atmosphere in the Market Area grew heavy. Many races gathered around the massive white-marble platform, every eye locked on the spectacle.
No one cared that the fighters below were only Rank 1 and Rank 2; the scale of the moment felt grand, and the crowd waited for the outcome with high expectations.
Tension sharpened, especially as the Umbraens—against whom many races held old hatreds and grudges—were humiliated before everyone’s eyes. People held their breath.
For many, watching the Umbraen youths killed and disrespected was a kind of elation; they believed the Umbraens were finally facing what they had deserved for too long.
Others, however, felt the weight of what this act would bring in the future.
Sidelong glances slid toward Sevrak, each look asking the same thing: how would this tyrant respond after today in order to protect the sovereign face he had worn for so long?
"Liora, are you aware of the consequences of what the youth you brought into the arena is doing?" Sevrak’s voice rumbled low enough to reach the spectators, and the Black Dragon beneath him gave a muted growl. Faint currents of electricity traced from the corners of its jaws, sharing its master’s hidden anger.
Liora heard him. She finally tore her focused gaze from the arena and looked at the man in black. "If you want to talk about consequences, then let us talk about yours. If you are planning anything that harms even one of my kin..." Her voice dropped to ice as killing intent rolled from her small frame.
Under her feet, Collossith’s massive body thrummed with a steady vibration, as if daring every onlooker to test their courage.
After that brief clash of authority and will, Sevrak exhaled a loud "Hmph" and turned his head away, fixing his attention back on his grandson’s approaching clash.
He understood this was not the time to start a dispute, especially at a gathering organized by a Rank 5 Adept; with Liora now a Titled Practitioner, any reckless move would be unwise.
Attention returned to the arena floor.
Kharom rushed like pressurized water, his body liquefying into a corrosive flow as he surged toward his enemy.
"This move of yours has already lost its appeal," Adyr said. He raised his blade, charged it with energy, and sent a sword arc toward Kharom just as before, forcing him to blast backward and revert to his normal form again.
"Damn, damn, damn you, Velari." Regaining shape and balance after being thrown back, Kharom lifted his head and bellowed with uncontrolled rage, only to see a silhouette dashing toward him with clear intent to kill.
This time, Adyr did not remain idle. He beat his wings and closed the distance before Kharom could fully recover his stance, striking again with his sword.
Clang
The impact rang like iron striking iron. Kharom had already activated a defense-type skill; his sickly white skin had darkened to a harder shade that looked as solid as the toughest metal.
"Not even your sword blast can hurt me. Do you think your sword strikes will do anything?" Kharom sneered, seeing the blade fail to cut through his hardened hide.
"We will see." Adyr had already judged that ordinary sword strikes could not pierce that skin. He did not care. He kept attacking, slash after slash, both blades working like a machine that never allowed a breath of respite, crowding Kharom with relentless, forceful blows.
Nonstop impacts rang across the arena. With each strike, it felt as though the next fell even faster and even harder.
The blades did not bite yet, but the pressure told: Kharom’s footing began to slide back, grit rasping under his boots, and his forearms locked into a guard in front of his face.
It was not only Adyr’s raw muscle that shocked everyone. The sheer speed of his strikes made the audience wonder how high his [Physique] stat must be.
They did not know about his [Will] stat, which also fed his speed, nor about the Emberdart Minnow’s passive that boosted [Will] by an additional 30%. That hidden factor pushed observers toward conclusions that felt impossible.
"Hey—what kind of power and speed is that? He is almost as fast as an Ignis Path Practitioner."
"If my numbers are right, he would need 4 or 5 times the stats of a normal Rank 2 to move like this. How is that possible? Is he really Rank 2?"
Their reasoning was not far off.
The Astra
Path was balanced, carrying a little from each Path except the mind-and-soul specialty of Aether.Greater physical strength also meant greater physical endurance and some increase in speed, yet compared to Ignis, the speed per point was lower; for Adyr to reach this level, the only plausible explanation was an absurdly high [Physique].
"His sword strikes are almost as fast as mine," Lucen observed, and Mirela and Malrik stared at him in shock.
"Do you mean his stats are already equal to a Rank 3?" Malrik asked, drawing a dry, heavy breath.
Everyone knew that during the evolution from Rank 2 to Rank 3 a Practitioner’s bound stat rose sharply, and that increase was never small.
Rank 3 Practitioners also carried far more talent slots and more developed talents; at minimum, they were expected to hold at least 1 talent at level 4. Looking at Adyr now, sensing that his total stat points might match a Rank 3, only one question formed in the minds of those who did not know the truth.
’’Has he pushed every talent to 4, maybe even a couple to 5?’’
It felt like the only logical explanation.
With 15 talent slots at Rank 2, to gain this many stats he would need at least 15 talents registered already, and every one of them sitting at level 4 or even 5. The math was simple; accepting it was the impossible part.
"Having 15 talents already and even leveling some to 5—what kind of monstrous genius would that take? How old is he? How many centuries would someone need to train, learn, and improve that many talents?"
A person might be gifted in one field—music, writing, or drawing. Being gifted in 15 disciplines at once and holding each at level 4 and above broke the bounds of common sense.
If Adyr had heard their murmurs, he would have been amused by how hard they were thinking.
In truth, every one of his registered talents sat at 3, with only 1 at 4, not counting his bloodline talents.
Pushing a talent to 4 was grueling even for him; as for reaching 5, he could only imagine how hellish the work would be.
Their mistake served him, though. Let them believe his power came from a monstrous [Physique] alone. As long as they were fixed on that single stat, they would not suspect the other foundations he kept hidden, nor the fifth path he refused to reveal.
Meanwhile, while everyone tried to put a number on his total stat, Adyr kept driving Kharom back with relentless attacks.
Slash after slash, Kharom began to lose both footing and balance; with no chance to recover his stance, he slid, slowly but surely, across the marble floor.
Until something happened to make Adyr’s face frown.