Gazing up at the peculiar heart-shaped moon, Mike pondered a serious question. Should he try to take it home with him?
Nah, better not.
Some things were best left untouched, a reminder of the journey.
Besides, even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure he could even move it.
As the moon ascended, the wolf howls gradually subsided.
The White Wolf King’s aura surged to its peak, on the verge of breaking through to level 990.
However, whether he would receive the current Wolf Alpha’s approval was another matter entirely.
Mike waved his hand, and a revitalized Vladimir reappeared on the thirtieth floor.
“Where’s the wilderness wolf?!” Vladimir boomed, brimming with renewed vigor. “Come face me in three hundred rounds of glorious combat!”
Mike rolled his eyes. “He’s dead, remember? You can stop showing off now.”
He then instructed, “Go gather up the wilderness wolf’s remains.”
Though crushed by Maxen’s flail, the wilderness wolf was still a level 994 powerhouse in life. Its body couldn’t be wasted.
Even if it was a pancake, Mike was determined to salvage something useful from it.
As Vladimir went about collecting the wilderness wolf’s scattered bits, Dracula soon reappeared, fully resurrected.
He wore a stern expression, aloof and haughty.
Glancing at the wilderness wolf’s remains, a flicker of shock crossed Dracula’s eyes, quickly masked.
He knew full well how strong the wilderness wolf was.
In their prime, Dracula wouldn’t have considered the wilderness wolf a worthy opponent.
However, even though the wilderness wolf wasn’t at its peak just now, its combat power was still considerable.
And yet, the current Wolf Alpha had obliterated it with a single blow!
Could it be… that the werewolves were on the rise?
Among the Lower Three Races, werewolves were considered the weakest, followed by elves, with the blood clan reigning supreme.
But now, with the sudden appearance of this terrifying Wolf Alpha, the power balance might be shifting.
Compared to Vladimir, Dracula held a stronger sense of pride in his blood clan heritage. Eyeing the wilderness wolf’s corpse, he scoffed, “To offend the dignity of a vampire prince… Death is a merciful punishment.”
Ignoring Dracula’s nonsensical pronouncements, Mike tossed him a ring. Dracula caught it with both hands, as if handling a priceless treasure.
It was the ring Pecker had stolen from him earlier.
Mike had been keeping it safe for him.
“Go fetch the Nature Elf Envoy,” Mike ordered.
After the back-to-back battles, he was feeling drained and eager to wrap things up.
“Dead or alive, I don’t care.”
He had already used Fate’s Reversal, and it wouldn’t be available again for another twenty- four hours.
Without it, Mike felt a pang of vulnerability.
The battle against the wilderness wolf had given him a good grasp of his current strength.
He was stronger than 0.99 Joseph.
As for whether he could defeat Joseph… that remained to be seen.
He’d find an opportunity to test his limits before venturing into the ninth abyss.
For now, the thirtieth floor was nearing its end.
Dracula slipped the ring back onto his right pinky finger, a cold smile spreading across his lips. Transforming into a blood-red bat, he soared into the moonlight, heading towards the wilderness.
A faint scream, presumably from the Nature Elf Envoy, reached their ears.
But those were worries for another time.
Mike gestured towards the two White Wolfs. “Come on, let’s head back to Brookfield Town!”
Once they reached the town and Apollo’s prophecy was fulfilled, the SSSSS-rank conquest would be within reach!
…
Outside the ninety-ninth floor of the Tower of Truth,
Maxen kept Apollo company.
Based on his calculations, Thor should be close to conquering the thirtieth floor.
According to Apollo,
Thor would be presented with a choice upon conquering the floor.
To leave or to stay. The decision rested solely on Thor’s shoulders, free from any external
influence.
Suddenly, Apollo spoke.
“Let’s make a bet.”
He seemed unusually talkative today.
Maxen: ???
He panicked.
What did Apollo want to bet on?
If Apollo won, Maxen would become his godson?
If Maxen won, Apollo would become his godfather?
No, he couldn’t say something so shameless.
Suppressing his urge to blurt out something ridiculous, Maxen cautiously asked, “What kind
of bet?”
He knew better than to refuse a Supreme Being.
“Let’s bet on… whether Thor will choose to leave,” Apollo declared.
Maxen’s eyes lit up. Was this some kind of joke?
He knew the answer to that!
He had already figured it out.
Thor was nothing if not cautious. He always planned meticulously, ensuring his absolute
safety before making a move.
Strike swiftly, retreat even faster.
Even if tasked with assassinating Joseph, Thor would meticulously prepare, guaranteeing a 100% success rate before even considering it. He wouldn’t risk it even for a 99.9999% chance
of success!
So, for someone as cautious as Thor to abandon everything and leave Apollo’s protection?
It was practically impossible!
Just as Maxen was about to accept the bet, Apollo continued, his voice calm and composed, “I
bet that Thor will not leave.”
Maxen: ???
This was the second time today he was utterly baffled.
What kind of game was this?
“Then… I bet Thor won’t leave either?” Maxen asked tentatively.
Apollo shook his head. “No, a bet means we have to choose different outcomes. That’s what
my instructor taught me.”
Maxen: …
What in the world had Shadow Nine taught him?
This wasn’t a bet!
This was robbery!
Maxen wanted to cry. With a heavy heart and a forced smile, he said, “Alright, fine. I bet Thor will leave…”
“Very well.”
Apollo nodded in agreement, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
His instructor was right.
Betting like this did increase his chances of winning. In fact, it was almost impossible to lose.
Maxen made one last attempt to salvage the situation. “Can we at least make the stakes…
smaller?”
If he was destined to lose, he might as well minimize his losses, right?
It was his last shred of dignity!
“Alright.”
Apollo, ever agreeable, accepted Maxen’s proposal.
Now, what should they bet?
Apollo hadn’t given it much thought.
He had initially intended to bet without any stakes at all.
But since Maxen brought it up, and he had already agreed…
There had to be something on the line.
After a moment of contemplation, Apollo proposed, “How about… 0.9% of your income?”
Ninety percent of Maxen’s income went to Morpheus, nine percent to Ares, leaving him with a
measly one percent.
Taking the entire one percent seemed a tad excessive.
But 0.9%? Just right. Besides, compared to Apollo’s vast wealth, even Maxen’s entire income was a drop in the
bucket.
0.9% was practically nothing.
Apollo nodded to himself. It was a perfectly reasonable bet.
Maxen: …