Diamond’s refinement resulted in the creation of an amazing artifact, capable of assisting amateur alchemists on their journey. However, even for amateurs, the item was of incredibly high value.
It matched the peak of what amateur pots were generally capable of.
“Nice job,” Arthur praised the two, patting their shoulders. “Ferhill, in a few minutes, contact the Saint Sealing Devil through this insignia to request practice materials. You guys keep training. Kai, come with me.”
“Arthur…” Ferhill said hesitantly, his eyes containing a hint of worry.
“Don’t worry, the Saint Sealing Devil won’t hurt y–”
“That’s not what I was going to say. Arthur, how long has it been since you received a good night’s sleep?”
“Oh, it was only yesterday…” Arthur’s voice trailed off, his eyes widening in shock. “I… I don’t seem to remember. Was it while recruiting Diamond and Matthew? While conquering the tenth floor? While inheriting the Blade Sovereign’s legacy? While visiting the Saint Sealing Devil?”
Silence.
“While recruiting Kai? No… I slept before I embarked on those journeys, while you and I were living together after the destruction of your other shop.”
Ferhill nodded. “It’ll be better if you sleep.”
Arthur released a deep sigh before nodding. Procrastinating would only result in adverse effects and would hinder his future movements. “Anyway, before I go, I need to explain our purpose. Do you guys know about the Player Tournament?”
“The Player Tournament?”
Kai, Matthew, Ferhill, and Diamond adopted expressions of confusion. It seemed as if they were unaware. “The Player Tournament is a tournament held on a global scale and involves the participation of all players under the fiftieth floor, if they wish to enter.”
“The rewards is 50,000,000 Tokens, and the divisions are Alchemy, Combat, Artifact Refinement or Blacksmithing, and a final Race.”
Before the others could respond, Arthur trotted over to Ferhill’s bed, dozing off in mere seconds. The latter adopted an expression of indignation, but didn’t dare to disturb the crimson-eyed man, fearing what would occur if he did.
“A competition? Of players and Elite Rankers?” Ferhill recalled Arthur’s recent words, shaking in his boots. The others noticed his reaction, and were equally as shocked by Arthur’s ambitions. They were truly terrifying.
Everyone was uncertain, except Kai.
“What’s an Elite Ranker? Can I eat it?”
*
The palace was engulfed by the absence of light. Soft footsteps resounded across the massive venue, while the lack of chatter incited a rather distinct, deathly silence no one wished to interrupt.
In a vast hall situated on the top floor of the ceiling, a crowd of shadows sat in a distinguished manner. The hall seemed endless, with pristine, white, marble flooring and golden, impegnable walls.
[A/N: Don’t start getting any ideas.]
A chandelier hung from the center, but it was virtually worthless, considering the dim lighting. Several shadows dressed in maid and butler costumes danced across the hall, their movements swift and somewhat robotic.
Several paintings hung on the walls, many highlighting the victory and glory of three prominent figures, each of contradicting morals and elements. Yet, they acted as a united front, defending their land against foes.
The pictures highlighted their undying valor, endless strength, and overflowing pride.
A long, grandiose table was situated at the center of the hall, several shadows sitting at the edge. The table was dark brown in color, and had several encrypted, mysterious markings that seemed undecipherable to the people sitting.
At the head of the table sat a man, his heavenly, white hair cascading down like a waterfall, and his thick, bulging muscles attracting the eyes of the women donning maid costumes. A thin, white cloth hugged his massive, defined chest, while loose, casual pants encompassed his lower body.
He possessed a thick, white beard, and topaz eyes that seemed to radiate and exude the true meaning of power. With a frown clouding his face, and tightly crossed arms, he seemed to be dissatisfied.
“Where is he?” The white-haired man’s booming voice resounded across the hall, causing the ground to shake as shockewaves threatened to form. “A leader of a mere mid-rank clan is delaying this meeting… How low have we fallen?”
“Calm your horses, Zeus,” A woman with long, silky, red hair spoke in annoyance, picking her ear as she crossed her legs arrogantly. “Lower your voice. One day, you’ll make my eardrums burst.”
“Like it matters, you snake!” Zeus let out a thunderous roar, lightning circling his fist as he smashed the table. Yet, the table–being as sturdy as it was–didn’t even shake. It absorbed the impact without giving out.
However, his actions did seem to annoy the others.
“Zeus, sit your ass down and stay quiet,” a certain man with similar white hair spoke, his voice brimming with suppressed fury. His amethyst eyes glowed as a power comparable to the heavens arose.
The hall turned silent for a split second, in which everyone processed the sheer power that danced along the man’s fingertips.
“Oh? And what are you going to do about it, Indra?” Zeus challenged, releasing an aura that clashed with Indra’s, the collision threatening to destroy the entire palace. Thankfully, through the joint efforts of everyone present, the destruction was reduced to a mere scratch on a certain wall.
Silence descended upon the hall.
“Indra, Zeus,” another man interrupted their clash. It was Odin, the Divine Ranker of Heaven’s Spire and the leader of Asgard. He had silky, silver hair that fell down to his shoulders, and a single, golden eye.
His other eye was sealed shut, a deep scar running along it. He had wrinkly skin and was dressed in casual attire consisting of a tunic and denim jeans. An odd choice of outfit, for certain.
Two dark ravens rested on his shoulder, a single, purple eye present in their sockets.
“It is best not to escalate this conflict more than it already has.”
“You’re one to talk, old bastard!” Zeus shot back, his glare fierce. “Your armies are facing off against Indra’s, right now.”
Odin furrowed his brows but didn’t comment.