When Pierce stood at the edge of the deck, countless complex gazes focused on him like searchlights.
The shocking Battle of the Core Zone from 3 days ago had long spread throughout the apprentice group via the survivors' word of mouth. Both Gwendolyn and Ingram, the two top geniuses, made no secret of it, openly admitting they were no match for Pierce.
This undoubtedly caused a huge uproar among the apprentices.
Before the trial began, almost everyone thought the first place would be born among the Big Three. As for Pierce, although he had the halo of a theoretical genius, no one thought a Bloodless without resource support could make any waves.
Who would have thought the final result would be so subversive!
Suppressing three great geniuses alone, topping the list with a terrifying score gap of over 30,000. This was simply a textbook counterattack script.
"He hid it so well... This guy was too low-key before."
"I heard he was an outcast expelled from his family? Tsk tsk, an outcast suppressing the heir of the main family, this plot is more exciting than a bard's story."
"Speaking of which, where is Silas? Why did I not see him?"
"Silas's points have not moved since they were cleared. Clement and the others have not appeared either. I guess... it bodes ill for them."
"Hiss... you mean..."
"I did not say anything."
The discussions around him were endless, but Pierce turned a deaf ear. He stood calmly at the bow of the ship, letting the high-altitude wind blow his black robe, staring indifferently at the shrinking island below.
"Pierce."
Xavier and the others came to his side at some point, Valeria among them. The group looked at him with extremely complex eyes.
Three days ago, when they saw the incredible changes on the leaderboard, the entire Astral Spirit Society fell into dead silence. They had vaguely felt that Pierce was hiding his strength, but they never expected that the magnitude of this strength would reach the level of crushing Gwendolyn.
If he does not sing, it is fine; but once he sings, he amazes the world.
Hum—!
With a low magical tremor, everyone's vision blurred. When their sight focused again, they had returned to the main deck of the Floating Leviathan.
The three Tower Wizards stood on the high platform at the bow, their gaze sweeping over the surviving apprentices below like an abyss.
"The trial is over."
Aylmer spoke slowly, his voice amplified by the array, resonating through the sky like a giant bell.
"Apprentices in the top 50, go to the logistics department to receive rewards after returning to the academy."
"Now, we return."
Without superfluous nonsense, the figures of the three Wizards dissipated with the wind, leaving only a huge magical metal board floating in mid-air.
The ranks and points of everyone were densely listed on it.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
- Pierce: 39,850 points (including Myriad Flower Fey bonus).
This number hung high at the top of the list like an insurmountable monument, a full 33,000 points higher than the second place.
It was worth mentioning that Gwendolyn and Ingram ranked around 2300 and 2500 respectively. After losing their points, although they hunted some barbarians again, it was only to ensure they wouldn't be eliminated. After getting the guaranteed quota, they simply lay flat.
Besides the eye-catching list, the bottom right corner of the metal board also displayed a bloody number:
Death toll: 346.
This was the most tragic trial in nearly a decade.
Many survivors looked at that number, secretly rejoicing in their hearts. Under this cruel selection mechanism, standing here alive was a victory in itself.
Dawn City, District 9 Apartment.
Walking into the familiar living room, Pierce closed the door casually, patted the brim of his hood, and chuckled:
"You can come out now; it is safe here."
The hood opened immediately, and a petite figure flew out.
"Wow!"
It was the first time the Myriad Flower Fey had seen a human home environment. She couldn't help but exclaim, flying around like a curious baby, touching the crystal chandelier and poking the soft sofa cushions.
Moments later, she rushed in front of Pierce, shouting and gesturing with her hands and feet, seeming to express satisfaction with the new environment.
Although Pierce didn't understand Fey language, he didn't have the patience to guess. He directly picked up the little guy by the back of her neck, walked to the carpet in the center of the living room, and began to prepare the Blood Pact.
This was the most basic but also the most solid type of servant contract. Many Arcanists would sign contracts with fey and elemental creatures in this way, turning them into loyal assistants.
The only restriction was that the contractor's spiritual power must be far lower than the caster's. Before the Rank 3 Pierce, this underage Myriad Flower Fey had no room for resistance.
"Bear the pain."
Pierce took out an enchanted knife, gently cut the fey's slender wrist, took a drop of blood emitting a floral scent, and mixed it with his own blood. Then, ignoring the teary-eyed little guy, he began to draw the contract circle on the floor.
Moments later, a palm-sized crimson circle emitting a faint light took shape.
Placing the fey in the center of the circle, Pierce pressed his index finger on the core node and chanted the spell in a low voice.
Hum.
The circle lit up with a faint red light.
Unexpectedly, this usually mischievous little guy appeared unusually well-behaved at this moment. She sat motionless in the circle, just looking at Pierce curiously with her lively big eyes.
When the will of the contract was transmitted, she almost immediately fed back the thought of agreement.
Contract established.
As the light dissipated, a stream of pure life energy fed back into the fey's body. The wound on her wrist healed instantly, leaving not even a scar.
"Eee-wah!"
The little guy immediately regained her vitality, dancing at Pierce, seeming to celebrate having a long-term meal ticket.
Through the psychic link of the contract, Pierce clearly understood her meaning this time.
"Is this my territory from now on? Great Demon King?"
Pierce's mouth twitched slightly, and he nodded. "As long as you are obedient, you can live here as you please. And..."
"Three meals a day, high-purity nectar, all you can eat."
Although rare plants were expensive, the income from selling a bottle of Myriad-Bloom Nectar was enough to cover her food expenses for a year, with plenty left over. For Pierce, this was a guaranteed profit.
The reassured fey spun excitedly in the air, completely unaware that she was about to become a nectar-producing machine squeezed by a capitalist.
"By the way, I need to give you a name."
Pierce rubbed his chin and fell into thought.
Little Flower? Too tacky. Little Honey? Sounds like calling some insect.
Just as he was struggling, the fey suddenly flew in front of him, puffing out her small chest and shouting loudly: "Ini!"
"Ini?"
Pierce raised an eyebrow.
"Alright. Then you will be called Ini from now on."
Ini froze, seemingly dissatisfied with this simplified pronunciation. She pouted and was about to protest, but seeing a Silver Cloud Flower appearing out of thin air in Pierce's hand, she immediately threw her dissatisfaction to the nine heavens and pounced on it with a beaming smile.
After feeding this gluttonous little guy, Pierce let her explore her new home alone, while he prepared to return to the bedroom for his daily meditation.
However, just as he reached the bedroom door, a butterfly, silver-white all over and wings flashing with arcane brilliance, flew in leisurely from the balcony.
Pierce's expression moved, and he extended his palm. The butterfly landed obediently on his palm, flashed with light, and turned into a letter emitting a faint scent of ink.
Prestidigitation.
Pierce recognized this Rank 0 cantrip used for delivering messages.
Gently opening the envelope, he pulled out the parchment inside. The content of the letter was extremely short, with only one line:
Tomorrow morning at eight, meet at Herb Garden No. 8.
At the end of the letter paper, a touch of silver magical trace quickly outlined an elegant and neat signature—
Yuna.