Chapter 1223: When Legends Yield

The heavy silence between the two armies dragged on long after the mysterious Light Warrior left the arena, her steps vanishing like a ghost fading into mist. Unsurprisingly, the Dusken Throne’s camp was the most shaken, but even her own allies stood frozen, too stunned to properly savor the victory, their cheers dying before they even reached their lips.

Seriously, what the hell was that obscene power?! Both fighters had been at the peak of what a Corebearer could possibly achieve, yet their actual combat prowess was worlds apart—as if one had been wielding lightning and the other, a blunt stick.

Mani was by far the most pissed off about the whole mess. He’d already made peace with the idea of screwing up on this cursed day, but he hadn’t expected to lose in such a... pathetic way.

That old Soulmancer was undeniably strong. Even he had honestly believed she stood a real chance—at the very least enough to survive even if she lost. But no, fate had to throw a freak of nature right in their path, like a loaded die tossed straight into their faces.

"You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You never stood a chance," Jake said suddenly, his voice low and edged, his eyes narrowed into a grim squint. Even he hadn’t imagined a native could unleash that kind of devastating force. "No one could’ve seen that coming."

Even before the fight started, the three foul auras he’d sensed had already thrown him off, heavy and suffocating like invisible chains. But those they belonged to... they were so much more outrageous than anything he had calculated for, even after overestimating them by several levels.

Because that kind of strength? It wasn’t just impressive for natives—it was Player-level. Not the monsters sitting at the summit like Gerulf, Crunch, or Mufasa, but enough to put the fear of God into almost anyone else below them.

Without Twyluxia breathing down their necks, most Players still standing in this Fifth Ordeal from Rank 11 upward would’ve been able to hold their own against that old Soulmancer who had just kicked the bucket. Among the Myrtharian Nerds, that was the level of Kewanee or the late goblin duo, Xort and Niss.

And even they weren’t a perfect benchmark, since thanks to the Faction Passive, Jake’s people all had a slice of his physical prowess baked into their blood. For other factions? It would’ve been a one-sided massacre, even among their so-called Rank 12 prodigies.

The real issue wasn’t her Lumyst Cultivation—it was everything else

. That hollow-eyed woman’s body, her speed like a whisper of death, her defense impenetrable as ancient stone, her aura that drowned hope, her unbreakable mind—everything about her was on a level native Corebearers simply weren’t supposed to touch.

It was almost like... she was a Player. But that was impossible.

What was certain was that thanks to Anthace’s twisted scheming—and maybe that Blade Spirit’s meddling—abominations like her had been created. In a way, her bloodline had already broken away from humanity, morphing into something unrecognizable.

"Who are we sending next?" Will cut into his thoughts, snapping Jake back to reality like a slap. The former businessman wasn’t as shaken as the Metamorph, but the deep furrow in his brow said he wasn’t thrilled either.

The downside of having a faction stacked with elites? They were too good to adapt smoothly to sudden, ground-shaking curveballs.

At last count, almost all their Players had already transcended the Corebearer stage after last night’s emergency grinding session. The few dozen Myrmidian Corebearers who had participated in the earlier team battle weren’t allowed to fight twice, so he was effectively out of reliable options.

As soon as Asfrid managed to upgrade their Spirit Shells and restore their comms, their well-oiled machine kicked back into full gear. Those who hadn’t yet dipped into the river during the past nights rushed to catch up, and with Jake’s notes, boosting at least one of their Lumyst Cores up to Radiant Lord level had been child’s play.

For natives, that kind of jump took grueling years, a lifetime sometimes. For Players? It was just about reshaping the strength they already had—and without being shackled by the limited affinities available to locals.

By all rights, it shouldn’t have been an issue. There were still plenty of talented Corebearers among the personal guards of the various Great Generals. Unfortunately, with that Light Warrior’s lethal strength now a known factor, they were forced to seriously rethink their entire playbook.

Until now, Jake hadn’t lost a single duel under his watch. But that undefeated streak? It was hanging by a thread.

"I’ll fight the next match!" A young soldier suddenly stepped forward, determination burning in his voice, drawing the attention of all the Players and officers like a flare in the night.

Sizing him up, Jake recognized Radahn’s personal disciple—a promising Vorzhul Rider, barely out of boyhood. The Great General had never officially taken sides between Cho Min Ho or Jake, only pledging loyalty to their homeland and the true Soulmancer King. Which meant his offer could be seen as unbiased... and tragically suicidal.

The kid’s guts were admirable. But seeing him puff up with naive confidence, most of the generals grimaced in pity, looking away awkwardly like they couldn’t bear to watch a train crash in slow motion. The guy was marching straight toward martyrdom.

Sure, a few Corebearers present empathized with him... but deep down, they were more than happy to let this eager volunteer jump on the grenade for them. Nobody wanted to catch Jake’s eye right now and end up dragged onto the altar.

His companions also watched, breath held, wondering what Jake would decide. Even Mani was silently bracing for whatever miracle Jake would pull out of his ass this time.

But without flinching, Jake simply amplified his voice and declared,

"The Dusken Throne forfeits the next two duels."

His comrades winced bitterly at the call, the bitterness etched deep in the set of their jaws... but they quickly accepted it. That was the Jake they knew.

He’d stacked up so many miracles that they’d started believing he could do anything—but moments like this were a harsh, freezing reminder that he wasn’t some omnipotent god.

Not yet.

The other generals kept their mouths shut, gritting their teeth, not thrilled about throwing in the towel, but way more relieved not to have to roll the dice with their lives.

As for Radahn, for the first time, he looked at Jake with genuine interest, a flicker of respect breaking through the iron mask.

"I... I could have fought..." the young disciple muttered, shame thick in his voice like syrup, bitter and slow. But a sharp warning glance from his master made him swallow his protest.

Understanding what the kid was feeling, Jake met his eyes and said, voice firm as steel,

"I don’t doubt you would’ve fought to the death. But a fight where the outcome’s already decided is pointless. If you had even the slightest chance to win, I would’ve let you try. But you don’t."

The cold verdict left no room for argument. The disciple stiffly nodded, swallowing his pride. That was why his master hadn’t pushed the issue either—because he already knew.

Meanwhile, Cho Min Ho’s double looked awkward—though for different reasons. His job was mainly to stall Jake and his forces, keeping them tied up here. Even though Jake’s surrender spared him another round of humiliation, it also inadvertently sped things up, making his mission harder.

From here on out, except for Jake’s duel, only matches between Radiant Lords and Saints remained—eight duels in total. Thanks to the three Corebearer forfeits, the Radiant Conclave had clawed back the advantage: 6 wins to 5.

The roars of victory from across the field were a brutal reminder if anyone needed one. The air crackled with renewed hope—and menace.

*****

In the stands of the Radiant Conclave, shaking under the thunderous cheers of their army, the atmosphere was more cautious than celebratory.

Nobody—including Eldrion—had expected that female Corebearer to be that obscenely powerful. It blew apart everything they thought they knew, shaking their faith to the core.

Lady Faye and Lyria were practically bursting with questions, their bodies taut with frustration, but the stone-cold faces of Eldrion and Calyx were like iron walls, shutting down any chance for answers. All it did was fuel their growing suspicions even more.

Still, they couldn’t deny it—they’d flipped a losing situation on its head in the blink of an eye, snatching three crucial wins. The momentum had shifted—and they knew momentum could win wars.

"Against all odds, he forfeited so decisively," Faye said, still reeling, a flicker of frustration gnawing at her.

Maybe because she considered herself clever, she’d come to expect Jake to always pull off a miracle. Seeing him stumble was a sobering reality check.

But they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. The real showdowns were about to begin.

Every Radiant Lord Jake had fielded earlier during the team fight was a monster in their own right. She didn’t know if Eldrion had even worse horrors hidden up his sleeve—and that thought kept her stomach twisted into knots.

"He just made his first mistake," the old man chuckled out of nowhere, dramatically lifting his white staff.

For the first time, his emotionless mask cracked into something savage.

With a deafening thud, the base of his staff slammed into the ground. The same scene replayed: three roots burst from the floor, blossoming into flowers.

Seconds later, two women and a man clad in white plate armor opened their eyes—and the sheer suffocating pressure that radiated from them froze the blood of anyone unlucky enough to meet their gaze. It felt like staring into the abyss—and realizing the abyss was staring back.

Turns out, Faye’s unspoken question had an answer. Yes—Master Eldrion could summon even more superhuman warriors.

And just like that, the outcome of the upcoming duels wasn’t so set in stone after all. The next battles would decide everything.

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