Chapter 1222: Momentum of the Unblinking

The Corebearer duels were finally about to begin, but Mufasa and his "victim" were still hogging the entire arena. Just as Jake was about to cough up the Space Link fee to send the massive lion back to his original spot—given how urgent things were getting—the colossal feline growled, "No need," and vanished on his own.

’What a chad...’ Jake silently praised. Not everyone was that damn considerate.

Then again, the lion had been an alpha beast back on Earth, and clearly, that hadn’t changed through the Ordeals. Odds were, he was a lot wealthier than he let on.

There was a quiet dignity to the way Mufasa carried himself, something raw and primal that went beyond mere strength. His eyes had that same cold weight Jake had seen in true predators—creatures that didn’t need to prove anything anymore because they knew what they were capable of.

Among big cats, the pride leader was always top dog, first to feast on the spoils of the lionesses’ hunt. The game may have changed—from prey to Aether Points, resources, and artifacts—but the rules of the food chain hadn’t. Mufasa just adapted, as all true survivors did.

And Mufasa’s pride had grown way beyond just lions or even felines. With a few rare exceptions, nearly every beast in their faction owed him some sort of tribute. Some did it out of loyalty. Others, out of fear. Either way, he was the undisputed apex.

"I get a slice of the pie too," Crunch chimed in from nowhere with a smug grin, clearly reading his master’s mind. Nothing could interrupt a nap like a chance to brag.

"So do I, keep your mane on." Lord Phenix chirped and smacked the back of Crunch’s head with his wing.

Ignoring the two clowns, Will explained,

"From what I’ve gathered, their system works more like an oligarchy. Mufasa, Shere Khan, and the other heavy-hitters rule over the rest, and take a cut of their subordinates’ gains depending on their ranking. In exchange, they’ve got responsibilities too—like keeping them safe from threats. No one knows who’s actually the strongest or how that’s decided, but hey, it seems to work."

"More or less," the obese black cat chuckled with a weird meow. "We tried settling it with virtual duels, but there are limits. Everyone’s got trump cards they don’t wanna reveal. So in the end, we just let the Oracle System decide."

"That actually works?" Jake was genuinely surprised. If you could just ask the Oracle who would win between two Evolvers, what was the point of hiding your aces?

"Only if all parties involved agree. And even then, it’s never 100% accurate. A kid with a gun can still kill an adult, after all," Asfrid added. "Otherwise, it comes down to the Oracle Rank. A higher Rank can dig up info on a lower one, as long as they’re willing to pay the price. Lower Ranks can still protect themselves though—either by putting down a deposit of Aether Points to jack up the cost of investigation, or by placing themselves under the authority of a stronger Evolver. Not perfect, but it does the job most of the time."

"Makes sense..."

While they talked, Jake took the time to reset the arena—again. The pool of blood left by that massive bat corpse had turned the place into a butcher’s swamp, making the cleanup more of a pain than usual. The terrain was cratered and sticky, caked in thick, clotted sludge. A few teeth and broken claws still lingered in the corners, faint echoes of past slaughter.

Jake waved his hand, manipulating the terrain with practiced ease, his Aether threads weaving the floor back into its original symmetry.

"Phew... good as new," Jake muttered, weariness in his voice. But just as he relaxed, his senses spiked—three sinister auras had erupted from the opposing camp.

Three Corebearers. But they didn’t feel normal. Their presence had that same twisted edge as the abominations from earlier duels. With the Blade Spirit’s spawn invading the entire continent—everywhere except here—one grim possibility was starting to take shape.

He turned toward Mani, who was getting ready to send one of his fighters into the ring, and warned in a low, solemn voice,

"Don’t underestimate your opponent."

The shapeshifter, hoping this duel would finally restore his reputation, stiffened. That bad feeling he’d been ignoring? Yeah—it was never really gone. Sweat beaded down his temples despite the cool wind, and his fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against his thigh.

Luckily, this time he didn’t need to beg his superior for backup. The natives under his command were more than enough.

"Who are our best Corebearers?" he asked his generals.

Several names popped up almost immediately—a grizzled Soulmancer, a direct disciple of Radahn, and an elite guard from the late Great General Winchu’s inner circle. Their murderous aura alone set them apart from the usual barbarian crowd. Compared to top-tier Players, they didn’t look the slightest bit inferior.

"Too bad I’ve already hit Radiant Lord stage," Kang Jun—Cho Min Ho’s ’bodyguard’—grumbled with visible envy.

"Relax. Your time will come," Jake chuckled, joining in on their conversation. The Radiant Lord duels were up next, after all.

In the end, the gray-haired Soulmancer was the first to step into the arena. Dressed in a tattered black robe, her sharp-boned face framed by long, ashy purple hair trailing to the ground, she looked every bit the wicked witch from some twisted fairy tale. Add in her nearly three-meter height—thanks to her barbarian bloodline—and the gnarled wooden staff she carried, and yeah... she was nightmare fuel.

Meribelle had apparently heard of this woman before—she was pretty well-known within their Order. And just like that, Jake knew her name... and what kind of Soulmancer she was.

Her cultivation talent was average at best, but she’d lived nearly a century, surviving tribal wars and ethnic conflicts of every flavor. Poison, medicine, enchantments, soulmancy—she dabbled in everything. Her skills weren’t flashy, but they were honed for one thing: survival through killing. Her face was a map of scars, each line a story of someone else’s failure to kill her.

A solid choice for this fight.

In what looked like an attempt at fairness, the Radiant Conclave had also sent a woman into the ring. But the similarities ended there.

This warrior was young. Gorgeous. Clad in a pristine white plate armor crafted with rare finesse. Her weapon? Just a standard-length wooden sword. But her hair and eyes were a mossy green so out of place, it practically screamed anomaly.

Yet the most unsettling thing wasn’t her size—over five meters tall, like most Light Warriors—but the robotic stillness in her expression. Since stepping into the arena, she hadn’t blinked once. Her face was blank, her muscles motionless, like she wasn’t even alive. No tension, no aggression. Just... silence. An eerie, suffocating calm.

The witch noticed, too. Her response? Immediate and overwhelming. She activated a swarm of bizarre artifacts and summoned thousands of vengeful spirits of varying strength.

Invisibility cloak, force fields, a toxic cloud, aura suppression, body reinforcement, Spirit Link, and statues to act as death substitutes—the whole nine yards. And that rotting staff? Not just for show. It could amplify her spirit power and that of her soul reserve to unleash devastating psychic magic.

Both Players and natives alike nodded with approval. With that kind of setup, she could hold her own against a Radiant Lord. The real question was—how would her opponent respond?

The answer came in a flash.

Without so much as a twitch to warn them, the armored swordswoman suddenly drew her blade with thunderous speed and launched herself forward in a blur.

No tricks. No strategy. Just raw speed.

Barely perceptible, Jake spotted how the soles of her wooden boots embedded themselves into the arena floor, tapping into a buried network of roots that launched her like a catapult.

As she neared the poison cloud and barriers, her armor lit up—blazing white like a holy beacon—and dissolved everything in her path. Hidden by that blinding glow, Jake sensed more than saw how the armor sprouted roots—this time inward—impaling her own body from within.

Greenish veins swelled across her exposed skin, warping her once-beautiful face. Her size tripled, bark-like armor now covering her body like glowing, pale armor. Her speed skyrocketed again.

Whooosh!

No one—not a soul on either side—could react in time.

The witch was decapitated in a single blow, her body shredded into a hundred ribbons. Not one of her death statues or spirits managed to trigger. Her wooden sword didn’t just suck out life force—it drained Spirit Power too. And because her Spirit Link bound everything together, everything died with her. Gone in an instant.

The execution complete, the roots retracted. The young swordswoman shrank back to her original form, delicate once more. Still stone-faced, she sheathed her sword and left the arena without a word. No glance back. No emotion. No humanity.

This first Corebearer duel had ended in a crushing defeat for the Dusken Throne.

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