Rhys had always been an incredibly prideful man.Over the years, he had come to see himself as a dragon walking among ordinary men. It was not empty arrogance or a lie he told himself to feel superior. It was the ideal he had dedicated himself to reaching, the standard he pushed himself toward every single day. In his mind, if he chose to run today, then the next time he found himself cornered in a difficult fight, his first instinct would be to run again. That was a future he refused to accept.The stakes of this match were actually quite small. Even if he lost, the worst consequence would be a dent in his reputation. People would laugh, question his strength, and move on.Running away was different.If he fled, the damage would not be to his public image but to the way he saw himself. Rhys could accept losing to someone stronger than him. He could admit defeat without shame. What he could never accept was becoming the sort of man who turned his back on a fight because he was afraid.

Rhys barely slept the night after his fight with Lu.Although he was still angry at the gods of Sol for interfering, he was even more frustrated with himself.The fight had exposed flaws he never knew he had.For the first time, Rhys saw himself clearly.He was a far more one-dimensional fighter than he had ever imagined.His swordsmanship was excellent. His physical strength was among the best in the university. Beyond those two things, however, there was very little he could rely on.Once Lu had neutralised his sword and overwhelmed him with speed, Rhys had been left completely helpless.He had no reliable way to create distance when a fight turned against him.He lacked proper defensive techniques.He had no movement skills that allowed him to reposition quickly.Even his offensive options were predictable because nearly everything revolved around his sword.He had become far too dependent on a single fighting style.The only reason he had never noticed those weaknesses before was b

Pant.Pant.Pant.Rhys bent forward as he struggled to catch his breath. Sweat streamed down his forehead and soaked his clothes, but despite his exhaustion, there was a faint smile on his face.Dodge.Block.He deflected another strike from Instructor Mae and, for the first time since they had started training together, survived past the two-minute mark.It was only a few extra seconds.To anyone else, that might not have meant much.To Rhys, it meant everything.[Rapid Feet][Pressure Bomb]Activating both techniques together, Rhys retreated while discreetly planting magical traps behind him. Instead of chasing him directly, Mae was forced to circle around the traps to avoid triggering them.The detour only bought Rhys a few precious moments, but those few moments were enough to widen the distance between them.It was a simple tactic, but one he had only learned recently.Every day, Rhys was refining his fighting style, adding new options instead of relying on brute strength and swor

“What is this supposed to mean?” Marcus said, staring at the report in disbelief. “A single person started a Floor Raid, and the Tower Administrator actually approved it? Which lesser god has decided to pick a fight with the Olympians?”His confusion was completely justified.A Floor Raid was not something that just anyone could initiate.The Tower only allowed a raid if it believed the challenger had a genuine chance of succeeding. Because of that, Marcus’s first assumption was that the attacker had to be a lesser god. As far as he knew, only someone at that level could realistically stand alone against an entire floor.If there were no restrictions, every frustrated Ascender with a death wish could challenge a Floormaster whenever they pleased. Marcus would end up dealing with dozens of raids every single day, and considering how many reckless people dreamed of making a name for themselves, the attacks would never stop.To prevent exactly that, the Tower enforced strict requirements

Marcus stared at the approaching Reeves with a grim look on his face.This attack had caught him completely off guard.He still had no idea why Reeves had suddenly launched what looked like a suicide mission against Floor Twenty-One.Everything he had tried so far had failed.Nearly four hundred thousand of his troops had already been wiped out. Many of the casualties were elite mages and archers that had taken years to train. Beyond that, the losses among the local beasts and civilian residents were impossible to count.Reeves had become a walking disaster.Anything that crossed his path was erased without mercy, and Marcus had yet to find a way to stop him.Now that Reeves had broken through the palace’s outer wall, Marcus had only one option left.He would have to send in his strongest generals.Their orders were simple.Delay Reeves.Hold him back for as long as possible.Marcus knew Reeves was living on borrowed time. The Seed of Death was far too powerful for a mortal body to end