Warlock Apprentice

As the countdown got nearer to its end, more apprentices began to show up around the Altar of Demise. Lawson’s initial estimation about how 90% of all apprentices would die in the garden was disproved when more than 15% of the participants had already reached their goal. But still, as the garden sacrifice was brought ahead of the original schedule, such an outcome was totally expected.

The observing wizards were glad to see so many winners making it to the end. Even though they did not really care about the life and death of apprentices, they still preferred to have the potential human resources of their respective organizations be alive instead of dead.

Lawson was the only one who was aware of the fact that a great number of the survivors had to thank Angor for this.

Such a pity… that Angor boy himself will not have a chance to accept their gratitude.

…

“Freeze and give us your Meraid’s Sword! Or else—”

“Stop talking and go get him, you fool! Nobody will give you their swords now. Just kill him and his sword is ours!”

Wham!

Falca’s body created a perfect arc in the air and crashed somewhere a dozen meters away.

After getting rid of some stars in his vision, Falca opened his eyes and saw the rhino-riding boy coming near him.

“Uh, sorry, I forgot to tell you. My senior is up in the sky. There, that’s him.”

Falca looked up and saw a fierce-looking apprentice gazing at him from afar.

“Hermes?!” Falca quickly recognized that man’s name.

“Oh, so you know my senior?” The boy chuckled. “I’m Loki by the way. Hey, get up and get moving, or all the good spots will be taken.”

Upon learning that the “annoying boy” was the junior apprentice of Hermes, Falca removed his aggressive attitude and sat up.

He checked again and saw a dozen people floating around in the sky.

Jebra was staying in the middle, while the others that scattered around were all powerful individuals in their ranks, and they were as strong as Hermes.

An apprentice from Floating Mech City, Dira, was also in midair, although he stayed as far away from Jebra as possible.

Only a dozen people were granted places in the sky, while the remaining ten thousand apprentices had to stay on the ground.

“But who allowed them?” Falca protested.

“Nobody. They’re there because they can,” an old man standing close enough to them said. “Heh… you’ll see. In this world, those with bigger fists set the rules, while the others follow.”

Following the old man’s words, another apprentice went flying over their heads. Falca looked up and recognized this man as another elite apprentice sent by Edge of Night. This elite apprentice was titled “Eternal Night”.

People who used such showy titles were either hero wannabes or those who were strong enough to deserve them.

Nevertheless, Falca found the title to be pretty embarrassing.

“I know that guy. He’s pretty good…”

Not long after Falca said those words, a woman who was literally walking on flowers in the air waved a hand gently.

People smelled something sweet before “Eternal Night” crashed onto the ground—head first.

“See that? Don’t try your luck if you don’t have the strength for it,” the old man commented while taking out a gray Meraid’s Sword. “Well, the colors of our swords will ultimately decide where we’ll stand. There’s no point competing for a better spot right now.”

“You’re not competing because you’re too weak, right?” Loki pointed out the obvious.

The old man’s eyebrows twitched. He didn’t do anything since Hermes was still looking at them.

“I’ll not waste time with you kids. Time to find a better position.”

The old man walked away.

Falca was still confused about something he just heard.

“Colors? Where we’ll stand? What’s that supposed to mean? And what’s with this ‘better position’?”

Loki glanced at Falca. “Well, use your spirit feelers to check the Meraid’s Sword and you’ll see.”