"Lord Spartacus, please don't do anything rash!" the retainer behind him pleaded anxiously.
The War God Deathmatch could only be initiated by a lower-ranked warrior challenging a higher-ranked one. Although it offered the lower-ranked warrior a sliver of hope for an upset, failure meant the challenger would become the challenged warrior's slave, their life and death entirely in someone else's hands.
The wounds covering Spartacus had already demonstrated the gap in their strength. Clearly, no one present believed he could win-not even his own retainers.
"My mind is made up!" Ignoring everyone's warnings, Spartacus began operating the Personal Terminal on his forearm and sent Morsy a request for a War God Deathmatch.
The War God Deathmatch followed a comprehensive set of procedures. Not only did the duel have to be public, but a warrior of an even higher rank also had to officiate.
"You're the one who wants to challenge Morsy to a War God Deathmatch?"
On the spacious arena platform, a warrior of the Ryan Race wearing a silver combat suit questioned Spartacus with a look of surprise.
Even standing still, his powerful presence left everyone around him feeling oppressed.
If Bronze-Level Warriors formed the military backbone of the Wulf Civilization's vassal civilizations, then Silver-Class Warriors were unquestionably their elite fighting force. Their numbers were few, and they were rarely seen even on the front lines.
"Yes, Lord Centurion!" Spartacus replied respectfully.
"You should know that, although you're both Bronze-class, a lower-ranked warrior has undergone two fewer enhancements than a higher-ranked one. Knowing that, do you still wish to challenge him?" the silver-tier warrior addressed as Centurion reminded him solemnly.
Apart from differences in military merit, another crucial factor in the Wulf Civilization's warrior rankings was the physical enhancement granted with each promotion.
With two ranks separating them,