On a midsummer night, some say the glistening stars are the eyes of the gods gazing down from high in the heavens.
In District 6 on the North Bank of Palieu, the capital of Posen, stood the Sacred Silvervine Arena. Located roughly twenty-five kilometers from downtown Palieu, it was easily accessible via the public transit system.
As the designated venue for the Flower Capital Holy Grail Familiar Tournament and a premier multipurpose arena, the Sacred Silvervine Arena buzzed with non-stop excitement year-round. Even those who were neither patrons nor competitors flocked here in droves for recreation, hoping to win a modest sum through betting—or lose it all and start over from scratch.
Its geographical location allowed it not only to serve Palieu's athletic and cultural events, but also to welcome visitors from across the entire Kingdom of Posen and abroad.
Yet just one kilometer further north lay a deserted, desolate neighborhood.
Simply put, the Sacred Silvervine Arena was perilously close to the entrance of the Posen Demon Realm.
Passing through the northern gates enchanted with ancient spatial barriers led directly into the Demon Realm.
Districts 7 through 10 in northern Palieu belonged to the Demon Realm.
Ordinary citizens of the Flower Capital never ventured past the arena into the Demon Realm. In that territory, humans were no longer protected by special statutory provisions, and demons were no longer bound by the absolute prohibition against harming humans.
In a sense, the Sacred Silvervine Arena was an architectural landmark known as "The Boundary."
Right now, at eight in the evening, over a dozen familiar combat matches were taking place simultaneously across the arena's various sub-halls.
On a magic screen mounted in one of these sub-halls, the matchup information flashed:
[Rocky McCarthy vs. Borgonia Poli]
[Rocky, Contracted Servant of the Earl Baptiste Family, 9 Wins, 0 Losses]
[Borgonia, Hired Servant of the Stand Express Group, 173 Wins, 21 Losses]
Divided by a split-screen line, the blue-corner competitor was a brown-haired, green-eyed man dressed as a butler, while the red-corner competitor was a burly, wild-eyed demonic dragon warrior.
Scores of spectators in the stands and galleries watched this match with keen interest.
"Is that butler even human?"
"He was brought here by Earl Baptiste's villainess daughter, and he's already won nine matches in a row."
"I thought Lady Christina brought him here to torment him, but it turns out she's just flexing the Baptiste family's wealth."
Frequent visitors to the Sacred Silvervine Arena murmured among themselves.
The earl's daughter, Christina Baptiste, had little reputation in the familiar combat circuit; it was her elder brother who was somewhat known within the community.
Ordinarily, the Baptiste family was represented by Young Master Kyle leading demon servants into battle.
Because Young Master Kyle never paid much attention to the strength or training of his servants, his record was nothing to write home about.
It was only because his servants possessed extraordinarily high baseline attributes that he managed to win on occasion.
His strategy boiled down to brainless pay-to-win.
Today was the very first time anyone had seen Kyle's younger sister personally bring a servant to compete.
And the servant she brought was actually a human butler.
"It's starting! It's starting!"
An anonymous shout went up, and the gazes from the gallery turned once more toward the crystal screen suspended in the hall.
This was already the butler's tenth match of the evening.
The Baptiste family's notable reputation, combined with his winning streak, had swiftly earned him widespread attention.
His opponent for this round was on an entirely different level from any before—Borgonia Poli, a demonic dragon familiar who had fought in nearly two hundred matches and boasted an astounding win rate of 89.17%.
Both combatants had now entered the Infinite Phantom Gorge via the artificial Shadow World launch terminals, ready to engage in a one-on-one duel across randomized terrain.
The top-tier launch terminals at the Sacred Silvervine Arena could support dozens of concurrent bouts, and this one was steadily drawing more and more onlookers from the sector.
Many believed that no matter how strong a newcomer was, beating an opponent like this was a tall order.
"He won his earlier matches too fast, which is why he got matched with a veteran like Borgonia."
"A pure-blooded Tier 6 demon, and from the demonic dragon race at that. An ordinary Tier 6 wouldn't stand a chance against him."
Amidst the murmurs, the screen revealed a rugged mountainous terrain.
Craggy precipices and jutting ridges formed a natural colosseum, interspersed with razor-sharp fissures and treacherous pitfalls.
In the distance, undulating mountain peaks cast long shadows beneath the moonlight.
The view swept over the brown-haired, green-eyed man in butler attire.
He stood with poise and composure, looking as though he were preparing for an afternoon tea rather than a life-or-death duel.
Facing him was a colossal demonic dragon warrior radiating murderous intent.
The one-minute pre-match preparation time ticked away.
The moment the war horn blared, the primal power slumbering within the demonic dragon warrior ignited. His frame twisted and swelled, muscles bulging as his flesh hardened into scales. He transformed into an immense black dragon, unfurling massive wings and rocketing into the sky.
Right from the start, the warrior unleashed his race's signature draconic transformation magic.
The spectator area fell utterly silent. Every pair of eyes was glued to the screen, hearts pounding almost in unison.
The black dragon circled and swooped through the sky, whipping up tempestuous gales. Its talons gleamed with deadly light, and its gaping maw let loose a deafening roar. With a single beat of its wings kicking up dark undercurrents, it plunged like a lightning bolt straight toward the seemingly defenseless butler.
The audience held their breath, expecting the battle to conclude in the very next instant.
Yet...
Just as the dragon's shadow was about to swallow the butler whole.
The butler simply raised his hand.
An unseen, incomprehensible force clamped around the ferocious dragon like an invisible titan's grasp, freezing it dead in its tracks.
The once-terrifying black dragon was no longer a creature soaring through the open skies; it slammed violently into the ground.
The gallery was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
The dragon struggled, only to find its body bound as if weighed down by thousands of kilograms of invisible mental chains. No matter how hard it strained, it could not break free.
With a helpless roar, its forelegs gave out, and it collapsed heavily against the jagged mountain soil amidst billows of dust. The feral gleam in its eyes faded, its massive head drooped, and it lost consciousness on the spot.
Seconds later, as the dust settled, the motionless dragon dissolved into specks of light and was expelled from the artificial Shadow World.
In an instant, deafening cheers erupted from the audience outside the screen. Expressions shifted from disbelief to wild fanaticism as they looked upon the unassuming butler with awe.
"What an incredible match!"
"Who else dares to challenge him?!"
Beating weaklings earlier was one thing, but when pitted against a truly formidable veteran, he had still ended it with a one-shot.
Nobody had anticipated that this poetic gentleman possessed such astonishing strength.
As the dust cleared from the battleground, the butler strolled leisurely out of the rugged arena, emerging through the Void Gate opened by the artificial Shadow World launch terminal.
He walked slowly toward the lounge area.
"Well? Now you know how strong my power is, don't you?"
Talia's telepathic voice rang in Lanqi's mind.
"Indeed. Right now, you're the most useful of all," Lanqi replied mentally.
"Why... did you have to add 'right now'?"
Talia's voice grew distinctly chilly.
"Because! 'Right now' is what matters most!" Lanqi quickly answered through their mental link.
He certainly wasn't trying to be sarcastic—he wouldn't dream of throwing shade at Tata for no reason.
"..."
Talia seemed to ponder this for a moment before lapsing into a dormant quiet, letting the matter drop.
Lanqi breathed a sigh of relief.
Even unsummoned, Talia could possess him just like the Poet of Great Love, taking partial control of his body to cast spells.
Although her output was heavily constrained in a possessed state, being possessed by Talia was an entirely different beast compared to the Poet of Great Love.
Talia had even suggested taking over his body directly to eat meals.
That way, she could savor the delicacies, and Lanqi wouldn't need to spend mana summoning her.
Lanqi had firmly refused.
He worried his stomach would be ruined—he had nowhere near Talia's digestive capabilities.
Lost in thought, he stepped into the lounge, coming into view under the watchful gaze of the blonde young lady.
To him, everything that had just transpired on the field felt like nothing more than a minor interlude in his daily routine.
"Well, my lady, my working hours still have sixteen minutes remaining. Oh, pardon me—now three seconds fewer."
The butler glanced at his pocket watch, slipped it away, and addressed the young lady.
"How... how did you do that?"
Christina's voice was a cocktail of shock and thinly veiled trepidation.
"You commanded me to win, and so I won," the brown-haired, green-eyed butler explained.
He spoke as if overwhelming an enormous dragon were merely routine business.
Christina was still dazed. She had thought she had a reasonable estimate of this butler's combat prowess.
Evidently, his strength was beyond anything she could fathom.
The mana fluctuations around him were faint, and he bore no aura of a martial artist.
Yet every single time, he subdued his opponents with effortless ease.
"I... I truly never imagined you could deal with Borgonia Poli so easily. Even my brother's servants struggle against that demonic dragon warrior, yet you just beat him like that..."
She shook her head, thoroughly at a loss.
Originally, Christina had only intended to let Rocky the butler suffer a little hardship so he would realize the difficulties and resign from their household.
Who could have guessed that match after match, he would end up racking up massive tournament points for the family?
As the patron of a rising superstar, she was on the verge of making a real name for herself.
Christina glanced at her account balance, feeling a bit lightheaded.
Using her butler Rocky McCarthy in the bouts, she had listened to him and bet on him every single time. Her personal allowance, saved up over years, had multiplied several times over.
Unfortunately, there was a betting cap of 1,000 pounds per match.
Moreover, large stakes risked being investigated or frozen.
As an employer, she was only allowed to place bets on her own servant to win.
At the same time, to prevent match-fixing, both servants inside the artificial Shadow World were required to sign anti-cheat agreements and submit to real-time combat intent monitoring. Any indication of throwing a match would trigger an investigation and astronomical fines.
In the beginning, Christina had staked 1,000 pounds on him with a heavy heart, treating it as throwing away the wedding savings she had gathered over years.
To her surprise, the very first match paid out at high odds.
Against progressively stronger opponents, Butler Rocky consistently restrained them completely from the first clash, forcing them to concede upon realizing the gulf in strength.
This didn't look like a Tier 6 fighting another Tier 6 at all.
It looked like a Tier 8 stomping a Tier 6!
Some people were already suspecting that the Baptiste family had hired a hidden powerhouse to stir up trouble in the Sacred Silvervine Arena.
Generally speaking...
Putting aside whether one could even recruit a Tier 8 realm-guardian powerhouse in the first place,
even if one could hire one for underground fights, the required price would be unimaginable.
After all, if a Tier 8 powerhouse hid their strength just to enter a competition and bully Tier 6 fighters—and felt proud of it—it would be utterly humiliating.
"Well, it is getting late. I suspect no other competitors will be willing to fight me in the point tournament tonight."
Lanqi estimated the time, figuring it was about time to escort Lady Christina home.
Point matches offered no commission.
They were not tied to commercial disputes; they served solely to raise the fighters' profiles and boost the patrons' prestige.
The only way to make money from these matches was through betting.
If one wanted to secure a massive commission in a single go, it required a commissioned match involving commercial disputes.
As long as Christina leased Lanqi out and had him win a pivotal match, she could rake in a handsome commission.
"True... Aside from the high odds in the first match bringing in good money, the payouts grew smaller and smaller. Everyone figured out your strength, and by the end, it was completely one-sided. There's no profit left in it."
Christina stared at her savings, which had climbed close to 20,000 pounds, feeling as if she were dreaming.
The butler was actually far easier to get along with than she had imagined.
Though he had only allocated two hours of overtime to her, he hadn't nickel-and-dimed her on the travel time or the registration process.
Escorting her home was treated purely as part of his butler duties.
In a way, she began to feel that this butler was actually a decent person.
And...
If the butler had staged a bit of a performance earlier, not dispatching his opponents so swiftly, and kept some of his strength under wraps, they might have made even more money.
"That would never do. If I pulled my punches, the system would detect an intent to fix the match, and stalling draws heavy fines as well."
Lanqi spoke as if he had seen straight through Christina's comically naive thought.
In situations where a victory was assured, tormenting an opponent—while not technically throwing the match—was viewed as malicious conduct and carried severe penalties under the labels of "unsportsmanlike conduct" or "delay of game."
Winning cleanly and decisively, as Lanqi did, was the proper, standardized way to play.
"...Uh."
Christina was left speechless.
Even so, she had never imagined that earning money could be this easy.
This butler was truly an unfathomable cash cow.
If she wanted to use him to make money...
In just this single evening, she could achieve financial independence, living in luxury and comfort even if she left the earl's household.
"What is it? Are you reconsidering firing me?" Lanqi asked with an amused smile.
"No! The moment I save up enough for the severance penalty, I'm firing you immediately!"
Christina hesitated for a fraction of a second before meeting his gaze with absolute resolve.
"I already received fifty thousand pounds from your brother, and soon I'll receive another fifty thousand from you, all while no longer having to work. That sounds wonderful to me, but have you truly thought this through? Your family will be at a net loss of a hundred thousand pounds."
Lanqi spread his hands, continuing to guide her thoughts.
"I've thought it through! I wouldn't dare covet your money!" Christina replied with unwavering certainty.
The more this butler felt like a wishing machine, the heavier and more ominous the money felt to Christina. If she asked for more from him, her family might never be able to break free of his grasp.
"It seems I underestimated you..."
Lanqi was slightly taken aback by her answer. After observing her for a moment, another smile surfaced on his lips.
"What do you mean by that?" Christina asked warily.
"Your character is truly commendable, shining brightly like gold. If you were my employer, I wouldn't mind putting in a bit more overtime for you," Lanqi said, half-joking, half-serious.
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Christina was completely baffled.
This sudden praise left her entirely uncertain of what he was thinking.
She simply could not comprehend his words.
"What I mean is, I harbor no ill will. Without the prestige of the earl's house, I wouldn't have been able to make this fortune so easily. Rather than a devilish contractor, I am more like a mutually beneficial partner, wouldn't you say?"
Lanqi explained patiently.
He seemed to be trying once again to convince her to view this money and his employment in a different light.
"Even so, I still won't take that money. I didn't work for it—it came far too easily. The more you tempt me to take it, the more I feel I will pay an unseen price for it."
Christina thought it over carefully and shook her head.
"..."
This time, Lanqi fell silent.
He had never been rejected this many times.
There were indeed people in this world with hearts so steadfast that words alone could not sway them.
As Lanqi stood at a loss for words...
"Hehe, you got turned down, Lanqi," Talia's voice chimed in his head.
"How adorable," she added.
She had been listening to Lanqi's inner thoughts all along.
She couldn't resist mocking him at the first opportunity.
"Indeed. Only a girl like Master would never reject me,"
Lanqi naturally refused to back down.
Wrestling with heaven is boring; wrestling with earth is boring; wrestling with Talia is endless fun.
"..."
Talia's thoughts fell dead silent.
Thinking back carefully...
Every time, she had actually wanted to reject Lanqi, yet she had ended up agreeing in the end.
From that very first time feeding the cat, to acting as his guard, becoming his teacher, helping him craft cards, and so forth.
Why couldn't she be as decisive as this girl Christina in turning him down?
"Master, you really are an easy girl for me to handle,"
Lanqi added with a provocative edge, his tone brimming with the swagger of a victor.
"..."
"Would you like to reconsider that?"
Talia's invisible mental hand gently brushed against Lanqi's heart.
If she wished, she could crush it in an instant.
"No, no, please! You're the one who handles me easily!" Lanqi quickly pleaded for mercy.
Fighting ten consecutive matches had consumed a significant portion of his mana.
Aside from maintaining a baseline safety reserve, he felt he could manage at most one more fight today.
The mental banter between the two gradually settled into calm.
"Are you really going to keep playing along with the Baptiste family?" Talia asked Lanqi.
Based on her observations over the past two days, this family wasn't evil—just somewhat foolish in their ways and prone to offending people.
Leaving aside Lanqi's bizarre influence, Talia felt the family treated Lanqi with genuine hospitality.
Earl Baptiste had, at the very least, treated Lanqi—this parasitic entity—with sincere respect.
"Well, since I took a hundred thousand pounds from them, I ought to do some work for them. If I just took the money and ran, wouldn't I be a fraud?" Lanqi countered.
Even if the other party gave it willingly, it still didn't sit right with him.
"...You certainly take your professional ethics seriously."
Talia was at a loss for how to evaluate this wishing machine.
Whether he belonged to good or evil, law or chaos, she couldn't tell.
Perhaps she hadn't understood Lanqi very well in the past.
Ever since their souls became linked and she observed his daily life, she felt she was gradually coming to understand this fellow better.
His contracts appeared as dangerous as the devil's garb, yet in practice, he was truly quite angelic.
Even with that student named Barthel back at Purgatory Corridor Academy, Lanqi hadn't harmed him; instead, he had treated him like an untouchable white moonlight.
In the lounge, Lanqi remained standing before Christina, not speaking for a long time.
"In short, you and I belong to different worlds. If you truly grant me the choice, then I will certainly pay your contract breach fee and ask you to step down from being our butler and reclaim your freedom,"
Christina said with an expressionless yet exceptionally respectful bow.
It was as if she were putting her whole heart into politely seeing a deity off.
Even though keeping Butler Rocky McCarthy employed for just one more month could yield a massive surplus even after paying the cancellation fee,
the moment she gathered fifty thousand pounds, she would hand it all over to him without hesitation.
"..."
The bystanders who overheard the conversation between the young lady and her butler thought she had lost her mind.
For now, she had only participated in the fast-paced competitive mode, trading on the Baptiste family's notorious reputation.
If she entered commissioned matches involving commercial disputes and leased Butler Rocky McCarthy as a fighter, she could demand enormous commissions.
"Rest assured. The moment you pay me fifty thousand pounds, I will cease working,"
Lanqi smiled helplessly and promised Christina.
What saddened him slightly was that while Lady Christina was sincere, befriending her was no easy feat; she had only barely lowered her guard around him.
Chatting lightly, the two began walking toward the exit.
Moonlight poured through the open circular aperture in the roof of the Sacred Silvervine Arena, illuminating the array of connected magic terminals. The soaring spectator stands of the various sub-halls fanned out like mountain ranges.
Eight to nine in the evening was the golden hour for arena bouts, drawing fighters and magical beasts from across the lands to battle for prize money, honor, and conviction.
Right now, the screens were still broadcasting matches from other halls. Two blade-wielding demons were engaged in a fierce duel, swords clashing like waterfalls amidst surging fighting spirit. The roar of the crowd, applause, and disappointed sighs blended into a cacophony that occasionally drifted over to the edge of the concourse.
Just as Christina and Lanqi prepared to exit the lounge and head down the brightly lit corridor beneath the open night sky, an eagle-nosed wealthy merchant in an expensive suit came jogging over, barring their path.
"You two, please wait a moment!"
The merchant's face wore an urgent, earnest expression, clearly indicating pressing business.
"Do you require assistance?"
Both paused, perplexed.
"Lady Christina, forgive the intrusion, but I have a request."
The merchant seemed somewhat intimidated by the earl's daughter. He maintained a deferential posture but got straight to the point.
"I need a powerful proxy for tonight's commercial dispute match. I witnessed your butler's extraordinary strength, and I am willing to pay a handsome commission to have him represent me."
"Changing competitors at the last minute incurs a fine,"
Christina said, furrowing her brow slightly. She was caught off guard by the sudden plea.
"That is true, Lady Christina. However, the opposing side also swapped their fighter at the last minute. Originally, I was quite confident of victory, but now I have no confidence at all. After watching Mr. Rocky's match, I felt that rather than waiting to lose, I would rather pay a heavy price to let him try."
After explaining the circumstances, the eagle-nosed merchant presented the compensation terms and lease contract to Lady Christina.
As long as the Baptiste family's butler, Mr. Rocky, was willing to fight one match for their company, they would pay a base commission of 1,500 pounds to the Baptiste family. Should he win, an additional victor's commission of 4,500 pounds would be awarded.
"This..."
Though Christina came from a wealthy background, as a student, she had never earned this kind of money.
Were it not for the fortunes she had amassed tonight by betting on Rocky, she would have suspected money was simply falling from the sky.
Even a loss would net 1,500 pounds.
She looked at Rocky, who appeared indifferent, subtly conveying that he still had working hours left; if she wished him to fight, he had no objections.
"What is the deal with the opponent?"
Christina did not agree immediately. Having cooled down to think, she questioned the merchant.
"It is like this, Lady Christina. Please take a look."
The eagle-nosed merchant began laying out the specifics.
His name was Edward Winston, the current CEO of the Winston Watch Manufacturing Co., Ltd., a luxury watchmaker with a long history and distinguished reputation in the Kingdom of Posen.
His opponent tonight was Charles Hammond of the Hammond Financial Group, which provided international financial services across the Southern Continent, including investment banking, asset management, and insurance.
Behind this proxy match lay decades of commercial rivalry and dispute.
Years ago, Winston Watch Manufacturing and the Hammond Financial Group had clashed over a massive international investment project. Winston sought to expand its watch brand across the Southern Continent through this venture, while the Hammond Financial Group eyed the project's colossal potential returns.
During the competition, a series of misunderstandings and antagonistic business maneuvers led to an extended legal and media war, severely damaging the goodwill and profitability of both parties.
Ultimately, to stem further financial losses and find a more direct, decisive resolution, both sides agreed to settle the dispute through a proxy match.
The agreement stipulated that the victor would gain leadership over the disputed project, while both sides would drop all ongoing litigation and publicly restore each other's reputation before the media.
"The other side brought in a very troublesome proxy fighter tonight,"
the merchant muttered with a troubled frown.
Word was that this was a mysterious fighter who had risen to fame only in the past two days, boasting a pristine record of sixteen wins and zero losses, each one an overwhelming triumph.
More notably, he never gave opponents a chance to surrender. Almost as if venting his fury, he would torment his foes to the brink of death before allowing the match to end.
Even though artificial Shadow Worlds posed no threat to life,
such brutality inflicted deep psychological terror upon his opponents, which had fueled his meteoric rise to fame.
Edward Winston's years of experience told him that the fighter he had originally hired had virtually no hope of winning.
This match was not merely a power struggle between two patrons; it was a clash between two fundamentally different commercial brands and philosophies, involving long-term interests easily worth tens of thousands of pounds.
Christina finished reviewing the contract and glanced at the butler beside her.
She sensed that Butler Rocky was well-versed in legal matters.
"There are no legal risks,"
he replied, as if reading her mind.
"Then... shall I accept?"
Christina asked Rocky tentatively.
"You are the employer. You decide."
Lanqi didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
In some ways, her temperament resembled Hyperion's—always carrying a touch of worry and fear whenever encountering anything unexpected.
"Then I leave it in your hands,"
Christina said gratefully. She then turned back to the eagle-nosed merchant, Edward Winston.
"Mr. Edward, I will lease Butler Rocky to you for this proxy bout."
She took the fountain pen offered by the butler and signed her name on the contract.
Now that his reputation was established, leasing Rocky for matches next week might allow her to scrape together the fifty thousand pounds in one go.
Of course, there was a catch.
If he became too overwhelmingly powerful and no one was deemed capable of matching him, prospective employers wouldn't be willing to take the field against him.
Therefore, she needed to earn as much as possible right now, so Rocky could leave her home that much sooner.
...
Half an hour later.
Sacred Silvervine Arena.
Elliptical in form, spanning several hundred meters in length and width and standing roughly fifty-eight meters high, it was not only the pinnacle of engineering and architecture from the lost empire, but also one of the Southern Continent's most famous ancient ruins. Historians deduced that the arena was originally built for gladiator bouts, beast hunts, chariot races, and other grand spectacles to satisfy the ancient imperial populace's appetite for bloody entertainment.
Fusing the essence of ancient ruins with modern architectural techniques, one of its greatest highlights was its retractable roof, which could open or close as needed, making it the largest amphitheater on the Southern Continent.
In a different grand sub-hall from before.
Within the lounge dedicated to staff and trainers, Lanqi and Christina sat waiting in the section reserved for the Winston Watch Manufacturing Co., Ltd.
Looking up, one could gaze upon the majestic circular structure assembled from thousands of massive stone blocks, towering into the clouds like the final spiritual monument of the ancient empire.
Lanqi casually admired the architecture, waiting for tonight's final match to commence.
Before long, all the magic screens shifted simultaneously, displaying the competitor information:
[Rocky McCarthy vs. Inoan Hohenlenso]
[Rocky, Representative for Winston Watch Manufacturing Co., Ltd., Contracted Servant of the Earl Baptiste Family, 10 Wins, 0 Losses]
[Inoan, Representative for the Hammond Financial Group, Unaffiliated Servant, 16 Wins, 0 Losses]
This was the highlight of the evening: a commissioned match carrying commercial stakes rather than tournament points.
Christina peered across the arena toward the opposing trainer's lounge.
Tonight's opposing patron, Viscount Charles Hammond of the Hammond Financial Group, belonged to a political faction that had long been at odds with her father, Earl Baptiste.
In truth, Christina had no desire to embroil herself in the disputes of the Posen aristocracy.
Though if they won, her parents would undoubtedly praise her for a job well done upon her return.
Yet her reputation as a villainess would only deepen—
Taking down a senior figure from a rival family at the tender age of seventeen.
Aside from displaying fighter information, the arena screens were also broadcasting the match regulations and exhaustive documentation.
For fairness and transparency, the league publicly displayed all proxy contracts once submitted.
"Why did the opponent sign such an extreme high-wire contract...?"
Christina noticed the terms of the opponent's proxy agreement.
He had signed the most extreme form of a gamble contract.
If he lost, the fighter would have to pay the patron an astronomical indemnity.
Christina cross-referenced the league records and calculated that it amounted to virtually all the money this fighter had earned over the past two days.
Conversely, if he won, the patron had to pay an exceptionally massive sum.
Unlike Lanqi's guaranteed contract that paid commission win or lose,
only absolute confidence would lead someone to sign a deal staking everything, indicating that the opposing fighter was utterly certain of victory.
As long as one viewed victory as guaranteed, the size of the stake was irrelevant.
Christina felt a wave of anxiety wash over her.
It wasn't that she feared Rocky losing; in fact, Rocky losing would align with her wishes.
However, she didn't want to watch Rocky being sadistically brutalized. She couldn't stomach such scenes.
As the night deepened, the air grew thick with tension and anticipation. The stands were packed with all kinds of spectators, their chatter lively and their gazes burning with excitement.
Five minutes before the match began.
A figure finally emerged from behind the opposing trainer's bench.
Shadows clung to the figure until they melted away—
It was a red-haired youth. He looked somewhat short and might better be described as a young man, though his features bore a boyish cast.
Yet this red-haired youth named Inoan radiated an aura that carried the unmistakable stench of a butcher.
The moment he stepped out, even the rowdy crowd in the back rows fell silent.
However...
When Christina's gaze landed upon the red-haired youth walking out of the tunnel, an unprecedented wave of dread instantly seized her heart.
Though normally confident and courageous, she felt an utter loss of strength at this moment.
Her palms broke into a cold sweat, her heart raced, and for an instant, she wanted nothing more than to turn and flee this suffocating arena.
As if catching the scent of her terror, the red-haired youth inadvertently met her gaze for a brief instant.
In that split second, Christina felt drenched in ice water. A terror stemming from the depths of her soul swept through her.
Those deep violet eyes, unfathomably dark and profound, resembled red spider lilies blooming in the dead of night, radiating an infinite chill.
Christina felt as though she had been reduced to a skeleton tightly wrapped in spider lilies, the petals melding into her flesh as if about to tear it away. Her consciousness was like a tiny skiff tossing in a tempest, teetering on the brink of collapse, her soul about to scatter.
"What is the matter?"
Until...
The butler's gentle voice suddenly sounded by her ear.
Like warm spring sunlight, it called her consciousness back, and she snapped her gaze away from the red-haired youth.
Christina gasped for breath, her legs trembling.
"Rocky, let's not fight. Let's return the money,"
she said to the butler beside her, her voice trembling with dread yet resolute.
"Lady Christina, if you breach the contract now, I won't have time to find another fighter, and you'll have to pay the penalty fee!"
Edward Winston panicked upon hearing this.
Although he still had his originally scheduled servant on standby, he knew that servant had no chance of winning.
"I'll pay it,"
Christina said without hesitation.
Even if it wiped out all her savings, she wouldn't let her butler face such a dangerous monster.
"There is no need. I never violate a contract,"
the butler remarked with his usual nonchalance.
"...Can you win?"
The blonde young lady looked at the butler, the dread in her eyes giving way to a flicker of hesitation.
Though still uneasy,
she knew full well that this butler of hers wasn't normal either. More importantly, she understood that what a competitor needed right now was support, not doubt.
"I will win,"
Lanqi nodded.
"..."
After a long silence, Christina gave a gentle nod, allowing Edward Winston to heave a massive sigh of relief.
"If you can't win, call for a surrender immediately. Don't let him hurt you."
Though countless words welled up inside her, they ultimately condensed into this simple warning.
"Understood,"
Lanqi agreed. He rose and walked toward the Void Gate leading into the artificial Shadow World.
The red-haired youth said nothing. He tilted his head slightly, those cold eyes flashing once more, before stepping onto the battlefield.
Lanqi followed closely behind, stepping out into an endless prairie.
At that moment, the red-haired youth's employer—a lavishly dressed middle-aged nobleman—glanced toward Christina, as if mocking their courage and decision.
"Christina, how courageous. I do hope your butler will still be fit for service next week."
Viscount Hammond chuckled with patronizing amusement, walking toward their trainer's box.
"Tch..."
Christina cast him a glare, feeling that he was cursing her.
She would love nothing more than for the butler to leave next week.
"Christina, your father has lost far more than he's won against our family's servants. And today, our servant is on an entirely different plane... It's fortunate you were the one who came, or else Kyle would be the one losing face."
Viscount Hammond muttered to himself as he looked up at the massive screens.
Christina ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on the combat display.
Across the multidirectional magic screens in the arena, the Infinite Phantom Gorge had activated.
This time, the randomized stage was a vast, open plain carpeted in lush green grass, stretching all the way to the horizon.
The serenity was quickly broken as two silhouettes materialized upon the grasslands, ready to clash.
Before the match began, a one-minute preparation phase barred both sides from attacking and restricted their movement. This was not only preparation time, but also a customary window for fighters to probe or taunt their opponents.
Yet the red-haired youth couldn't care less about this routine.
His hands remained in his pockets, his gaze unshifting, as though everything about to happen had nothing to do with him.
His icy indifference seemed to freeze the surrounding air.
In contrast to the youth, the brown-haired, green-eyed butler on the other side of the prairie maintained his customary refined grace.
He stood with a straight back, as though awaiting an honored guest rather than a life-or-death duel.
"If you don't mind, could you tell me why you feel the need to be so excessively brutal every time?"
Lanqi took the initiative to strike up a conversation.
He found Inoan's behavior rather unbecoming.
Normally, he wouldn't chat extensively with an opponent, but after learning this competitor's story and witnessing his current state, Lanqi couldn't help wanting to offer a helping hand.
"..."
The red-haired youth gave no response, not even looking at Lanqi.
"I harbor no malice. I merely wish to offer you some psychological counseling. I sense that you are under immense mental stress."
Lanqi's tone was calm, a polite yet distant smile gracing his face.
"..."
The red-haired youth's hood tilted slightly. He seemed to find these remaining thirty seconds of preparation excruciatingly long.
None of the fools who had tried to provoke him before had been this annoying.
He had seen plenty of idiots trash-talk him before matches, but they had only served as the finest seasoning for his slaughter.
Yet this guy, pretending to care for him, thoroughly disgusted him.
"I am quite concerned about what you've been going through lately. You are very irritable and reject my goodwill; even your breathing is thick with rage. If you bottle it up, you might break. I am willing to listen to your story—after the match, of course."
Regardless of whether the other spoke, Lanqi continued with the earnestness of a therapist.
"I swear I will snap your throat so you never dare speak to me again..."
The red-haired youth finally spoke.
"And if you fail? In that case, I might just keep whispering in your ear, won't I? Or perhaps my voice will haunt your dreams tonight,"
Lanqi tilted his head with a grin and replied.
"I will kill you..."
A vein pulsed on the youth's forehead.
The ceaseless goodwill being projected at him made him feel sick beyond measure.
Outside the arena, the spectators in the stands sensed the stark contrast between the two fighters and held their breath, awaiting the explosive clash.
Upon the plains, an ominous, chilling gray wind suddenly whipped up, and the bell signaling the start of the match tolled!
Amidst the howling wind, the red-haired youth blurred into an indistinct shadow, lunging at Lanqi with ghostly, astonishing speed.
He might have excelled in spellcraft, but most of his previous victories had relied on a few spells coupled with physical brutality to beat his opponents into bloody pulps.
In this instant, the victor was about to be decided, and the youth intended to tear his opponent to pieces.
"..."
Facing this sudden assault, Lanqi's expression remained unchanged as he moved to suppress the red-haired youth with mental magic, just as he had done before.
However, the moment the mental field of his stand-in, Talia, collided with the red-haired youth's force, the two controls canceled each other out.
Neither side could gain the upper hand.
"So... you're a mental mage as well?"
In that flash of lightning, Lanqi murmured in surprise as he watched the rushing figure.
The mental energies of the youth and Talia intertwined, collided, and neutralized in midair. In that split second, time seemed to slow in their perception, forming an invisible contest of wills.
This surprised the red-haired youth as well, but clinging to his ingrained arrogance, he still did not draw his hands from his pockets upon discovering his opponent was no pushover. It was as though this duel did not warrant his full strength.
"Let's trade a few blows, then,"
the red-haired youth rasped.
"Very well,"
Lanqi replied, noting the youth's stance.
At this juncture, he needed to show proper respect and have Talia ramp up her output a notch.
If necessary, he would make his own judgment calls and coordinate with Talia.
"He's strong,"
Talia transmitted mentally.
This was the first time an arena opponent had resisted her suppression.
Still, it merely meant showing a bit of real skill.
A surge of pitch-black mana coalesced around Lanqi, causing the bedrock beneath to shatter.
Countless massive fissures shuddered open, expanding into abyssal chasms. Immediately afterward, black flames erupted from the earth, engulfing the red-haired youth.
Under Talia's control, these black flames spun rapidly, forming a roaring, pitch-black tempest.
The red-haired youth instantly realized something was terribly wrong.
This was not a Tier 6 spell at all!!
Before he could react amidst the dark fire, the flames seemed to take on a life of their own, relentlessly corroding everything. The youth's silhouette blurred, until finally, amidst an enraged roar, it completely dissipated.
The entire battlefield fell into dead silence.
The audience was struck dumb by the sudden turn of events.
As the black flames gradually dispersed, only a solitary victor remained standing on the prairie.
They had expected an extended slugfest.
Instead, Rocky McCarthy had won in a single move yet again.
"..."
Lanqi stood somewhat bewildered on the barren grassland.
They had agreed on a serious sparring match.
Yet Talia had unceremoniously dropped an ultimate skill to obliterate the opponent in one hit.
"Sister Tata, isn't that a bit excessive against a Tier 6?"
He hadn't expected Talia to take it so seriously.
He had specifically instructed her not to use spells above Tier 6, or it would be far too conspicuous.
They were fighting in the same league, after all; they had to show some respect and not make it look like smurfing in a minor league.
He had sensed that the opponent was indeed a Tier 6.
For Talia to strike him directly with Tier 8 magic was simply ruthless.
Tata didn't have many direct offensive spells, specializing mainly in counterattacks; this damaging black flame was something she had learned from Pranay, capable of incinerating nearly any unidentified matter.
"An opponent like that is hard to control. I didn't know what trump cards he had, so winning quickly was the safest choice. Do you think my judgment was flawed?"
Talia replied.
"Right, right, you call the shots,"
Lanqi didn't dare contradict her.
Mainly, his mana was running low.
Otherwise, playing it slow would have been fine.
As the black flames faded entirely, the silence over the arena was shattered by an explosion of cheers from the audience.
A tidal wave of noise seemed to sweep through the sub-hall, the crowd's mood swinging from disbelief to wild euphoria.
They all turned toward Christina, their eyes filled with newfound respect and reassessment for this young noblewoman.
After all, in their eyes, that victory was not merely a personal triumph for the butler, but a display of the Earl Baptiste family's terrifying might.
"This..."
Christina stood in the lounge, her face an open book of sheer incredulity.
She felt that both the red-haired youth and her own butler were ominous entities straight out of a horror film.
Except her butler was evidently the scarier one.
Which was why he had won.
What kind of world was this?
As long as one's household-warding curse was terrifying enough, one didn't have to fear other terrors knocking on the door?
"Lady Christina, thank you so much! Truly worthy of the Baptiste family! From this day forth, your fame will surely eclipse your brother Kyle's!"
Meanwhile, the victorious employer, Edward Winston, cheered ecstatically from the trainer's box, celebrating the abrupt triumph.
His voice brimmed with smug euphoria, as though the entire world were celebrating their company's victory.
In stark contrast, Viscount Hammond's face was as dark as thunder.
Viscount Hammond glared fiercely at the blonde young lady, lips pressed into a tight line, before finally forcing out a few words:
"I truly underestimated you, Lady Christina."
He felt both bitter regret over his miscalculation and a profound realization that the Baptiste family's villainess daughter truly lived up to her reputation—she was operating on an entirely different level from her brother!
Moments later.
Both challengers from the artificial Shadow World returned to the physical hall of the Sacred Silvervine Arena.
The red-haired youth glared at Lanqi as if he wanted to swallow him whole. His hands trembled, still unable to accept the humiliating defeat he had just suffered.
The palpable killing intent crossing the distance sent a chill down Christina's spine.
"You clown! Didn't you guarantee you'd win?!"
The defeated financier, Viscount Hammond, stormed over to the red-haired youth, shouting furiously,
"You've ruined your reputation! And I promise you, you won't be getting another match in the Sacred Silvervine Arena ever again!"
Viscount Hammond brandished his walking stick, pointing it furiously at the red-haired youth.
Although he could claim a penalty payout from the fighter, it was a drop in the bucket compared to the massive losses incurred from the business wager.
The red-haired youth glanced at Viscount Hammond, veins pulsing on the back of his hands. Ultimately, he clenched his fists and refrained from striking.
In that instant, even Viscount Hammond sensed danger; the materialized bloodlust made him feel as though he were brushing shoulders with Death itself.
The red-haired youth turned and walked away without uttering a single word.
The fact that he no longer displayed overt anger only made him all the more terrifying.
On the other side of the hall.
Lanqi, clad in his butler suit, had returned to Christina's side, where she was discussing the payment details with Edward Winston.
Still, she couldn't help casting a worried glance in the direction the red-haired youth had departed.
"He seems to be in quite a miserable state..."
Christina felt a pang of guilt.
All the money he had worked so hard to win had been wiped out in one fell swoop.
Having offended Viscount Hammond, it was unlikely any employer in this circuit would hire him again.
In truth, that red-haired youth was frighteningly powerful; it was just that Butler Rocky was far too bizarre, making victory impossible.
"It doesn't matter. Consider it a lesson for him; hopefully, it will temper some of his ferocity."
Lanqi's smile was like a glimmer of light in the summer night, carrying a gentle warmth.
If he ran into him again, he would do what he could to help him.
Lanqi always felt that when encountering such individuals, he simply couldn't refrain from lending a hand.
...
Time passed, and the night grew deep.
Moonlight fell upon a dim street bordering Palieu's District 6 and Demon Realm District 7, where solitary streetlamps barely illuminated the narrow alleyway.
Far removed from the daytime bustle, the only sounds were the occasional distant cry of a crow and the shifting of shadows beneath the lamplight.
Old buildings flanked both sides of the street, their walls overrun with creeping vines. Most windows were shuttered tight, as though the residents had long grown accustomed to the silence and shadows of the night.
Against this gloomy backdrop, a red-haired silhouette walked alone through the alley.
His footsteps sounded distinctly sharp in the quiet night.
His pace gradually slowed. He pulled the remaining loose change from his pocket and stared at it in silence.
This money might not even be enough to buy a single meal tomorrow.
"Hey kid, got anything valuable on you?"
Suddenly, two burly demon youths stepped out from the darkness. Realizing they had spotted him, they blocked his path.
These two half-demons wore leather jackets. They looked largely human yet possessed distinct demonic traits. Holding weapons that glinted coldly, they approached him with mocking grins.
"This is an outlaw zone, you know—wedged right in the cracks. A soft-skinned fellow like you dare come here? Aren't you afraid we'll swallow you whole?"
The other half-demon sneered, his raspy voice dripping with malice.
Yet they had no idea of the power wielded by the red-haired youth before them.
The rage and terror radiating from him right now was like a volcano on the verge of erupting, yet they remained blissfully blind to it.
Pale, cold moonlight filtered through the sparse clouds, dappling the dilapidated street and intersecting with the streetlamp's glow to illuminate half of the youth's face beneath the hood.
A piercing chill flashed through the red-haired youth's eyes, and the aura around him grew increasingly perilous.
"I've been plagued by bad luck lately. I need an outlet to vent..."
He murmured softly.
"Oh, so you're eager, are you?! What a little slut!"
The half-demon youth grew even more excited upon hearing this.
"You said this is an outlaw zone, right?"
"Of course. Whatever we do to you, neither humans nor demons will give a damn, because this place falls under neither jurisdiction."
"Then could you please die quietly for me?"
The red-haired youth looked up, as if finally providing them with their answer.
"Bastard, who gave you permission to talk to us like that?!"
The leading half-demon hesitated no longer, gripping his weapon and lunging forward.
"Hah."
Beneath the moonlight, the youth's red hair seemed dyed in blood, turning vivid and scarlet.
His hands slid slowly out of his pockets.
The very next second, a thunderous crash echoed through the alley.
With one hand, the youth slammed the attacker's head against the wall. Amidst the sickening crunch of a shattering skull, blood splattered across his face.
A savage grin curled upon his lips.
As the hood slipped back, tresses of crimson hair spilled out, revealing a breathtaking beauty with scarlet locks.
Though her complexion appeared sickly and frail, the tyrannical mana surging from her instantly incinerated the half-demon's corpse, leaving not a trace behind.
"Don't... don't kill me! If you kill me, the Diamonds Gang will hunt you down across the Posen Demon Realm until you're dead!"
The other demon, face drenched in gore, collapsed to the ground in terror, scrambling backward.
Yet she seemed entirely deaf to his cries. Stepping forward, she treated him purely as fuel to vent her fury, smashing him to pieces fist by fist.
If she didn't butcher these fools, she wouldn't be able to close her eyes tonight.
Soon, another shriek was cut short before it could even fully form.
Only the red-haired figure emerged from the alley, her fingers trailing five bloody lines along the wall.
"Rocky McCarthy... Rocky McCarthy... Rocky McCarthy..."
She muttered the name over and over, engraving it into her mind as someone she could never forget.
On her personal grudge leaderboard, right after number one, Loren, and number two, Loren's student, sat this Rocky McCarthy at number three.
That she, the esteemed Bishop of Destruction Ivanos, had fallen to such a wretched state was entirely thanks to those first two.
After finally taking the alias Inoan to earn legitimate currency, intending to buy medicine in the Kingdom of Posen to treat her injuries and lie low until her strength recovered, a shameless scoundrel fighting in underground bouts—who was blatantly far beyond Tier 6—had caused her to lose every single penny.
This Rocky McCarthy felt like the final straw that broke the camel's back.
Until she killed that bastard...
She would never find peace!
Chapter 674