Extraordinary Rise: Starting Contract with the Silver Dragon Countess

In the competition area, Freya made history by leaving the ring after winning the semifinals.

The Central Empire was plunged into a suffocating silence.

Sunlight streamed through the glazed dome of the VIP area, falling on the faces of the imperial officials, which were either ashen, pale, or gloomy.

The waiter carefully changed the tea, and the sound of the cups clinking together seemed unusually jarring in this environment.

The head of the Central Empire's Noble Martial Arts Festival, the chairman of the Noble Academy's Education Committee, and the principal of the Holy Radiance Academy, Fyodor, had his knuckles white from clenching his fists, his forehead was already covered in a fine layer of cold sweat, and his lips were pressed into a stiff line.

Although Her Majesty the Empress did not say anything harsh, he could already feel a thorn in his back.

"Useless trash! This is an utter disgrace!"

A hot-tempered military commander next to him growled in a low voice. Although he tried his best to keep his voice down, everyone could feel the anger in it.

Moreover, most people could understand who he was referring to as "trash."

Fyodor clenched his fists, his expression growing even uglier.

Another, more composed official pursed his lips, trying his best to maintain a dignified appearance, but the disappointment in his eyes was almost overflowing:

"We've invested so many resources, and we haven't even made it to the semi-finals, and on our own soil no less..."

As the host country, the two most promising players were both eliminated before the finals, failing to even make it to the semi-finals.

This is the worst result in history, and it is really hard to accept.

In stark contrast to the low-pressure atmosphere in the Imperial VIP area, the area where the Ceylon Kingdom delegation was located was now the center of a celebration.

The gold and green flags representing the Ceylon monarchy were waved wildly by the excited crowd.

By defeating the Central Empire's contestants to advance to the semi-finals, Freya has achieved the best result in the history of the Kingdom of Ceylon.

In the Kingdom of Ceylon, it was past midnight, but almost no one was asleep.

Whether it was the capital city of Quesaon or the various city-states within the country.

The giant crystal photo screens set up in major cities were packed with people, making it impossible to move.

The cheers of the onlookers swept through the entire venue like a tidal wave, and even some nobles from Quesaon couldn't help but have their eyes gleam with fervor.

Regardless, Freya is ultimately a Ceylonian and is representing Ceylon in the competition.

Having reached the semi-finals, if they can ultimately win the championship and earn the title of "Strongest Bronze," it would be a huge boost for the entire Ceylon team.

The gods have favored us!

Many nobles who were originally inclined to support the Quessão royal family have now become hesitant.

In the palace of Quessaeon, King Gaius calmly watched the battle scenes transmitted through the "Mirror of the Sky".

Although his face showed no unusual expression, his slightly trembling hands revealed his extreme inner turmoil.

Compared to "Prince Orlando colluding with demons to interfere with the Noble Martial Arts Festival", Freya's breakthrough into the top four is even more serious.

King Gaius felt a pang of regret; he should have known better than to let Freya participate in the Noble Martial Arts Festival.

Who would have thought that this teenage girl could overcome all obstacles and finally reach the top four?

Gaius took a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable.

……

After Freya and Lucien Murphy's match, the other two matches began.

The first match was between Wolf Smith, the "Light Walker" of the Southern Empire, and Percival Wayne, the "Bastion Warrior" of the Northern Empire.

As the pre-tournament favorite to be the "strongest bronze," Wolf did not disappoint the Southern Empire.

Percival Wayne's defensive tactics ultimately failed to withstand Woolf's relentless barrage of attacks.

If you keep it for a long time, you will lose it.

After nearly ten minutes of fierce fighting, Percival was finally pierced through by Woolf's sword.

They secured the third spot to advance to the semifinals.

The final match was between Thorin Weiss, the "Dragonfire Warrior" of the Eastern Empire, and Alaric Rean, the "Alchemist" of the Western Empire.

Both of them have an extremely crazy fighting style.

In order to activate the dragonfire bloodline within him, Thorin Weiss did not hesitate to set himself on fire.

Alaric was a pure experimentation fanatic; as an alchemist, the scars left by his insane experiments were visible all over his body.

When two hot-tempered people like these collide, it's bound to be a fierce battle.

The cheers of tens of thousands of people surrounding the Central Imperial Arena nearly lifted the heavens, filled with a primal desire for violence and glory.

"Ding--!"

A crisp sound, symbolizing the start of the battle, tore through the air.

Thorin reacted with lightning speed, driven by a beast-like instinct.

He stomped his left foot hard on the ground, and the rock beneath his feet was instantly dented by the astonishing force.

He carried no weapons, only a special metal glove on his right hand that could conduct flames.

With its enormous hand outstretched and fingers spread wide, the muscles throughout the body tensed and released instantly, with the waist as the axis.

woo-

A crescent-shaped, dark red arc of light tore through the space in front of him.

It is filled with pure, destructive power.

Wherever the arc of light went, the air seemed to ignite, leaving a brief and distorted trail of burning light.

Martial arts technique "Lava Sweep".

Thorin's goal was simple: to strike first, to overwhelm his opponent with scorching air currents and terrifying power, and to destroy the balance and focus upon which a warlock relies for casting spells.

The scorching shockwave and deadly flames are enough to tear an ordinary person apart and burn them.

But Alaric was unaffected.

The moment Thorin stomped his foot, his lips, hidden in the shadow of his hood, moved slightly, and a clear, short, and strange syllable escaped his lips.

Just as the scorching shockwave of "Lava Sweep" was about to hit him, Alaric's empty left hand flashed into the pocket at his waist.

Then, he suddenly flung out a handful of silver-gray powder.

The powder wasn't scattered randomly; instead, it burst forth in the direction of the shockwave, creating a cold, silvery-white arc of light.

"Quench!"

Alaric's low growl sounded like the clash of metal.

As if receiving some kind of instruction, the powder emitted a dazzling silver light.

scoff-

It wasn't an explosion, but the sickening sound of quenching.

The cold silver light struck the scorching flames precisely, instantly expanding into a rapidly cooling, violently spinning storm of silver sand.

Thorin's scorching power clashed violently with and annihilated this cold, metallic power.

The silver sand swirled wildly, darkened, and finally transformed into a barrier of dark gray metallic smoke that exuded a bone-chilling cold, blocking the two of them like a living thing.

The heatwave was forcibly blocked, neutralized, and broken down.

A frenzied roar erupted from the audience.

Thorin's fierce opening attack was easily neutralized by Alaric.

The silver-gray powder that Alaric sprinkles has a powerful "metal cooling ability".

He had anticipated Thorin's movements before he attacked, and activated the powder in advance with a syllable spell to ensure it could react instantly upon contact with the flames.

These are the alchemical materials he carefully prepared for Thorin.

The alchemist's consistent principle is to defeat warriors who rely on brute force with minimal cost and the most common materials.

Thorin's pupils suddenly contracted.

The speed of the other party's actions, the swiftness of their response, and the precision of their materials far exceeded his expectations.

Thorin's most powerful, preemptive strike was easily neutralized by his opponent. Although Thorin was surprised, it was not enough to shake his resolve.

For a fighter who has reached this stage, Sorin doesn't expect to win in one move.

The core of the Dragonfire Warrior lies in their inextinguishable fighting spirit and their destructive power that erupts like flames.

As Thorin's attack was thwarted, he darted to the side like a cheetah, his heavy armor barely making a sound, his movements surprisingly swift.

He needed to close the distance; he couldn't allow a warlock a chance to cast spells at his leisure.

At the same time, the right glove burst into flames with a loud bang, the flames began to surge and spew out wildly, like the breath of a dragon.

Finally, it transformed into a half-body giant sword, which Thorin firmly grasped in his hand.

The massive "Dragon Breath" greatsword seemed to lose its weight in his hands, and he swung it around with great force.

Surprisingly, Thorin doesn't use his greatsword in the usual way of sweeping or slashing.

Instead, it is a straight thrust that gathers all the strength of the body and is accompanied by a sharp whistling sound.

The dark red light on the sword's edge instantly turned bright red, and the surrounding air distorted violently due to the high temperature, making a crackling sound.

Martial arts technique, "Dragon Fang Charge".

The burning blade easily broke through the dark gray metallic smoke barrier formed after Alaric annihilated Thorin's attack with silver sand, and struck him directly.

Alaric's gaze was cold and stern, and the muscles in his jaw tensed instantly.

Thorin's thrust did not cause him any psychological change; his hand movements remained steady.

In the instant Thorin shifted to the side, Alaric's right hand had already drawn out a slender crystal test tube containing a viscous green liquid with inhuman speed.

As Thorin revealed the "Dragon's Breath" greatsword, Alaric flicked his finger elegantly at the mouth of the test tube, while his other hand held a small piece of bright silver metal, gently rubbing it above the bottle opening.

At the same time, his voice suddenly rose to a high pitch, producing sharp syllables.

bass!
A bright streak of sparks landed precisely in the small pool of viscous green liquid in the test tube.

puff!
There was no deafening explosion, only a blindingly bright white flame, accompanied by a high-pitched, ear-piercing hissing sound, suddenly gushing out from the test tube.

This cluster of flames was extremely eerie, displaying an unnatural, phosphorescent white glow. Almost instantly, it expanded to five meters wide, resembling a blooming white lotus of death, blocking the path of Alaric and Thorin's thrust. The white flames burned silently, yet carried a terrifyingly low-temperature burning sensation and a thick, nauseating stench of decay.

A hint of madness appeared deep in Alaric's eyes. He spread his hands out, his ten fingers curled into a specific shape, as if he were weaving an invisible net.

Thorin's mind was filled with alarm bells.

His fighting instincts far surpassed those of ordinary people. Seeing Alaric's complex hand gestures, he knew that this strange flame was absolutely not to be touched.

The body, honed through countless trials, produced an incredible response.

He slammed his left foot into the ground, abruptly stopping his forward momentum. At the same time, the muscles in his arms burst forth with tremendous force to counteract the momentum, forcefully deflecting the "Dragon Breath" greatsword, which carried enormous kinetic energy, to the side!

The heavy sword blade generated wind pressure that plowed a deep furrow into the gravel and dust on the ground beside him.

He then pushed off with his feet again, his body soaring into the air, about to clear the white lotus of death.

Thorin's reactions and responses were fast enough, but Alaric's casting speed was even faster.

He had finished casting the spell. He pushed his palm forward and swung his arm wildly. With a hum, the white lotus that had been burning quietly expanded more than tenfold, completely enveloping Thorin who was leaping in the air.

An extremely high temperature, enough to melt steel, accompanied by a strong, foul stench and phosphorescence, suddenly swept towards Thorin.

Even more fatally, the light was so intense that it instantly blinded him.

A sharp, knife-like pain shot through my eyes, and my nasal cavity and throat burned intensely.

Thorin's vision was enveloped by that eerie white phosphorescence, as if he were standing on the edge of a hellfire lake that scorched his soul.

The thunderous shouts from the audience, filtered through the sharp hissing sound, sounded distant and unreal.

In the scorching white hell, Thorin's world is left with only excruciating burning pain and piercing screams.

The moment Thorin was completely engulfed by the white flames, every inch of his exposed skin felt as if it were being pierced by millions of red-hot poison needles.

The viscous, phosphorescent white flames greedily licked the armor on his body, making a sizzling sound that made your teeth ache.

Smoke carrying a putrid odor rushed into his mouth and nose, as if strong acid were burning his trachea and lungs.

Absolute darkness.

It wasn't because there was no light, but because the white itself was too intense and too malevolent, completely burning out his visual nerves.

The excruciating pain felt like it was melting his eyeballs.

He now realized what alchemical material the other party was using—"Corrupted Soul White Phosphorus"!
A forbidden alchemical ingredient, a mutated phosphorus extracted from the bones of abyssal monsters. When burned, it releases penetrating phosphorescence that can scorch the soul.

Alchemy materials of this level are definitely not something a Bronze-rank character can control; the other party must also be suffering severe backlash.

Indeed, this is true. The skin of users of Corrupted Soul White Phosphorus will gradually be corrupted by the "Corrupted Soul White Phosphorus," and over time, the entire body will rot.

If one abuses their physical body before it has reached the "Golden Body" state, it will be corroded into minced meat by the "Corrosive Soul White Phosphorus".

Not to mention Alaric, who is only at the Bronze rank.

At this moment, Alaric's body began to shimmer with an eerie phosphorescence, a sign of his impending corruption.

The pain of his physical destruction only fueled Alaric's excitement. His body trembled with ecstasy, his lips moved rapidly and silently as he chanted incantations. The white flames enveloping Thorin burned even more intensely.

The spectators were stunned. Was this really a match between two Bronze-ranked players?

Many of the Silver-ranked spectators thought they couldn't unleash an attack of this level.

As the son of the Sky City Lord of the Western Regions Empire, Alaric possessed an extremely prestigious status, yet he would use such a forbidden material.

He's a madman, truly a madman.

Sorin was breathing heavily, his lungs churning like bellows.

"Roar--!"

A hoarse, distorted roar, scorched by the flames but still radiating an indomitable will, suddenly exploded from the core of the white flames.

Those who can stand on this stage are all the pride of their respective countries, so why avoid their sharp edge?

Fury Zorn has already lost. He is now the last hope of the Eastern Empire. How can he fall so pathetically?

It's a life-or-death struggle!

In the face of excruciating pain and blinding despair, Thorin Weiss's savage survival instinct, like the breath of a dragon, ignited completely.

Instinct is the instinct ingrained in our bones by countless life-and-death battles.

He abandoned his futile visual perception, and every muscle and tendon in his body instantly tensed to its limit, like a steel spring compressed to its extreme.

He stomped his left foot hard on the ground, which was barely visible, and the "Dragon Breath" greatsword, as he spun around, did not swing but instead whipped up a fiery storm carrying violent energy.

Dark red flames versus white flames!
Rumble!
The massive blade stirred up viscous white phosphorus flames, and dark red dragon flames erupted from the blade.

That was not energy that was consciously guided, but rather the wildest outpouring of pure life force in dire circumstances.

Two flames, dark red and pale white, of vastly different natures, clashed, annihilated, and tore each other apart violently.

A visible, scorching wave of air suddenly exploded outwards from Thorin, forcefully creating a gap in the white flames that were enveloping him.

Although it was only a brief opening, it gave Thorin his only chance to maneuver.

Using the recoil from the greatsword's swirling motion and the force of his heavy footsteps, Thorin did not attempt to lunge forward or backward, as that would only sink deeper into the fiery swamp.

He made an unusually resolute and all-out lunge to the side and rear.

Instinct told him that Alaric was in this direction!

boom!
Thorin, his body still ablaze with embers and thick smoke, crashed heavily onto the scorching rocks less than five steps in front of Alaric, like a red-hot iron block thrown from a furnace of hell.

The terrifying impact cracked the ground and sent rubble flying everywhere.

He could almost smell the unique odor emanating from Alaric, a mixture of alchemical potions and the stench of newborn decay—a sign that his soul and body were being corrupted by the white phosphorus of the corrupted soul.

Alaric's face, hidden in the shadow of his hood, twisted instantly, and a hint of genuine panic finally flashed across his manic, excited eyes.

Thorin's lunge was too decisive and too precise, completely exceeding his expectations.

The immense impact forced him to interrupt his spellcasting, abruptly ending the channeling of the massive white flame energy.

The churning white hell, having lost its master, suddenly became somewhat chaotic and sluggish.

A moment of calm fell over the arena.

This brief respite was the crucial moment for Thorin to secure victory.

At the moment of impact, Thorin completely disregarded the excruciating pain of his bones feeling like they were about to fall apart and the needle-like burns all over his skin.

With a burst of final strength from his waist and abdomen, he rolled awkwardly and lunged at Alaric once more.

The "Dragon's Breath" greatsword dragged on the ground, emitting a piercing scraping sound. Its dark red blade hummed, gathering a fierce light.

Alaric was forced to retreat, staggering.

Thorin's deep purple robe was scorched at one corner by the scorching heat wave from his attack, revealing eerie phosphorescent patterns on his pale skin beneath.

The lines had begun to spread upwards, corroding his flesh and causing unimaginable pain.

But the expression on his face was not one of fear, but rather a mixture of pain and almost manic excitement.

A hint of joy flashed in Thorin's eyes. His opponent was indeed suffering from the backlash of "Corrupted Soul White Phosphorus". He couldn't even withstand one of his sword strikes now!
You think you can win like this!

Alaric Rean's eyes were bloodshot as he let out a hoarse roar.

As he staggered backward, he reached his hands into the leather pouch at his waist again, this time with a sacrificial resolve.

What he pulled out was not ordinary crystal powder or a test tube, but a dark red, viscous jelly sealed inside a deep black crystal.

Inside the gel, countless tiny shadows seemed to writhe and struggle, exuding a chilling abyssal aura and an ominous presence.

"The Primal Essence of the Netherworld Worm Demon?"

In the VIP section of the viewing area, Grand Duke Roland of the Western Regions Empire, who had been staring intently at the unusual phosphorescent changes on Alaric's body with a solemn expression, suddenly stood up.

A startling glint flashed in Archduke Roland's eyes:

"Old Lei An was right about this madman; this little brat is really going all out!"

He knew exactly what it was.

A super forbidden object crafted with the heart of a Netherworld Worm Demon as its core, capable of instantly releasing terrifying, chaotic soul energy. The user will also burn a large amount of their own life force, at a heavy price.

If the previous Alaric would lose half his life after using it.

He is already suffering from the backlash of "Corrupted Soul White Phosphorus," and if he uses it again, he will definitely die.

Cohen, who was in the spectator stands, was also familiar with this forbidden material. In the demiplane on the cover of his "Book of Time and Space," there was a genuine Netherworld Worm.

Cohen clicked his tongue lightly and said with relief:

"What a madman. Luckily, my Nef and Freya didn't run into him."

Windsordler raised an eyebrow very slightly and asked:

"What is this?"

Cohen explained the origin of the Netherworld Worm Essence to everyone, which evoked a wave of emotion from the crowd.

"However, with Grand Duke Roland around, this kid has no chance of activating this material."

Alaric's father, Marquis Damon Raine, lord of Sky City, has a close relationship with Grand Duke Roland and wouldn't just watch him die.

As Cohen had predicted, just as Alaric was about to crush the black crystal seal...

Archduke Roland's voice boomed like thunder, directly into Alaric's mind:
"Alaric Rean, stop right there!"

At the same time, he gave a slight nod to a legendary-rank guard behind him.

The latter arrived on the arena in a single breath, knocked Alaric unconscious from behind, and carefully put away the black crystal containing the "Netherworld Worm Essence".

Thorin had no idea what was happening in the VIP section; all he saw was the mad sorcerer pull out something even more terrifying.

A strong sense of crisis and the instincts of a Dragonfire Warrior drove him to squeeze out the last bit of strength left in his body.

His severely burned legs unleashed a final burst of propulsion, propelling his body toward Alaric like an arrow released from a bow.

The legendary-rank guard watched Thorin rushing towards him like a madman, sighed inwardly, and reached out to stop him.

Thorin could no longer hold on; his last strength was exhausted, and he collapsed to the ground.

The match was abruptly ended when both competitors collapsed, and the entire Imperial Arena fell into a deathly silence. (End of Chapter)