Return Of The Strongest Player-Novel

Chapter 125 The Show: Sons Of Divine Rankers

As the rays of dawn squeezed through the narrow opening of the window, the dark room gradually lightened. The chirping of the birds became prominent, while the streets bustled at the crack of dawn.

Arthur's eyelids gradually opened, revealing the crimson pupils and white sclera within. Letting out a sigh, he pushed his body up, folding his bedsheets before performing a few stretches to warm his muscles and prevent extensive strain on his joints.

He then threw a slipper at Randy, who stirred in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

Arthur clicked his tongue, entering the bathroom with a towel and a set of clothes in his arms. He freshened up in a matter of minutes, slipping into a white shirt, black jacket, and a pair of loose pants that allowed movement.

Strapping his scabbard to his waist, Arthur threw another slipper at Randy. The muscular man unconsciously deflected the attack before it collided with his face, to which the crimson-eyed man chuckled.

Such instincts were difficult to come by.

Arthur silently exited the hotel, heading towards a nearby training ground. Training grounds were quite common in the Outer District, as many new players liked to improve their abilities before attempting the first floor.

As Arthur approached the training ground, he calmly watched hundreds of new players constantly improving their weapons proficiency or mana capabilities. Their expressions were strained, and their movements were quite impressive.

There were no sub-par new players.

Although players eventually fell behind, the bottom line regarding minimum strength was quite pronounced. Only a select few managed to enter Heaven's Spire below a certain range of power.

As the players trained, beads of sweat fell to the ground continuously. Their training was exhausting. A few of them trained alongside comrades, while others preferred to improve their skill solo.

'Lucas Festus,' thought Arthur, glancing at the son of the leader of the Paragon Of Vengeance in the distance. He held a longsword in his hand, striking away at an enforced straw puppet without restrictions.

The wind around him bent to the movement of his feet and sword, as if accompanying the two on their journey. His movements were a blur to most, which accurately displayed the immensity of his power.

Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!

Each strike was precise like a measurement, rapid like a bullet, and destructive like a bomb. His expression remained unchanged the entire time, while his arms, legs, and sword flowed like water.

"That's Lucas, right? The son of the leader of a high-ranking clan?"

"Yeah, it seems like it. Lucky bastard."

"I wonder if he's going to get carried up the floors. I can't imagine someone like him climbing the floors using his own funds and power he obtained himself."

"True. Spoiled bastards like him should curl up and die."

"Agreed! Look at where we are, and compare our situation to his! He's living a life of dreams!"

The reactions of other players were quite similar. They were also quite vocal with their thoughts and didn't mask them. The disdain from the new players was overflowing, and Lucas's lineage didn't help his case.

The jealousy due to Lucas's ranking was overflowing.

'Do they not realize they're poking the lion?' Arthur smiled, crossing his arms. He planned on delaying his training solely for the purpose of watching the show. The Paragon Of Vengeance was a clan that didn't mask their true nature.

Even their name was directly related to the nature of their members.

As far as Arthur knew, Lucas was not one to ignore such insults. Then, why wasn't the latter making a move? Players of similar strength were not restricted from engaging in battle in the Outer District.

In fact, it was mostly encouraged.

Arthur plopped down on the ground, simply sensing the mana in the atmosphere. Even sensing the supernatural energy was akin to training, as it sharpened one's senses and caused them to be accustomed to it.

Arthur kept his eyes open, which degraded his concentration and focus due to the distractions. However, he couldn't wait for the show to begin.

A smile hung on his lips.

'Ah, there we go,' said Arthur internally, resting his head on his palm.

Lucas's movements slowed, and he gradually finished his barrage of strikes with a final, full-powered kick. The straw puppet shook violently, but didn't break. It was reinforced with special materials.

Lucas wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, sheathing his sword. He then directed a piercing gaze towards those who mocked him.

A few shrunk at his gaze, while others averted their eyes. Insulting one behind their back was much easier than risking one's well-being by repeating those insults in front of their face. People who mocked others behind their back did not wish to risk themselves solely for that purpose.

Suddenly, Lucas's gaze was matched by a man with orange eyes. Lucas's wheat-colored eyes shrunk, and sparks crackled between the two. The man with orange eyes was Aditya, the son of a Divine Ranker of the Devas, another high-ranking clan.

"Aditya," said the man with wheat-colored eyes. Arthur laughed at the sidelines, calmly spectating the showdown. As if observing Lucas's capabilities wasn't already enough, Arthur also had the chance to figure out Aditya's weakness.

Information was the key to victory.

Similar to what Sun Tzu stated.

"Lucas," said Aditya. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You used to hide under your father's coattails when our clans met. But now, you have the courage to climb the tower."

"Yes, I remember that very vividly," said Lucas. "What I also remember is you running to your father because I insulted you once. I cannot forget that pitiful face you made, along with the tears that fell to the floor."

"You have a good memory. Make better use of it."

"You have a way with words. Make better use of it."

The lightning in their eyes intensified, and the spectators took a large gulp of air. Arthur noticed the disturbance of mana, nodding in satisfaction. The battle was about to begin.

"I believe you were saying something while I was training. Mind repeating it?"

"Are you deaf, too?"

"No, I've naturally learned to ignore the dumb shit you say."

"Are you implying something?"

"I was pretty explicit."

The two looked around, and the spectators backed away. Lucas unsheathed his longsword, while Aditya flicked his wrist, causing flames to emerge from his body. The atmosphere heated, and the disturbances in mana increased.

'Let the battle begin.'