The first hundred-person melee was so wild that the spectators in the stands were completely blown away.
Triss and the others had it easy. They'd seen similar scenes before. For example, when the Black Calamity ended, a bunch of these bruisers had fought in a huge brawl to decide who'd get the players' first power armor. Compared to that thousand-player free-for-all, this was just a gentle breeze.
But for the Shadow Elf matriarch, the dragon couple, and the dwarves who'd come to watch, this was a little too outrageous.
"Are there really this many Chosen among the outsiders in Transia?"
Lady Drusilia watched the people fighting and the others warming up. She couldn't help commenting:
"Chosen of Varm, Favored of the Father of Oaks, minions of the Wolf God, Sky Warriors of the Feathered Serpent God. Good heavens, how much are you people hiding?"
"Most of them are just Chosen in reserve."
Triss watched the melee in comfort, holding the little drake in her arms. She waved with a hint of smugness and said:
"And since they don't have physical bodies yet, they can't withstand much divine power. So they only have the title of Chosen; their actual strength isn't enough to compare with the true Chosen on the continent. But once they acquire bodies in the other world, our warriors' combat abilities will undergo a genuine qualitative leap."
"I can finally understand why someone as proud as Lord White would humble himself to associate with these outsider warriors."
Grandmother Shadow sighed.
"They're a truly remarkable bunch."
"Are mortals always this violent?"
Watching Giant Shark swing his axe at Meow Brother in the middle of the arena, even the grim and mighty Black Dragon Apollis couldn't help sighing.
"I've heard they've slain gods, and more than once. I thought it