Rufus

The matches on the arena stage continued, one after another, like an endless assembly line producing victors and corpses.

Blood stained the stone slabs red, only to be washed clean by Cleansing Runes, over and over again, as if nothing had happened.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Dago swept his gaze across the powerful figures from the other factions like a hawk.

He was not watching for entertainment. He was assessing them, searching for those who might become obstacles in his path.

His gaze first settled on the Lava Brotherhood's section.

Heat waves rolled there, distorting even the air with their scorching temperature.

There was no need to say much about the Lava Brotherhood. Naturally, its standout was Ignatius, whose veins carried the blood of an Ancient Flame Demon.

That man was like a humanoid powder keg. Even sitting still, he seemed to ignite the air around him, producing faint crackling bursts.

His skin was the dark red of cooled magma, and flickering firelight seemed to flow beneath it.

He sat there with no one daring to approach within three meters, as though he were a moving forbidden zone.

That violent, blazing aura of utter destruction was enough to make people feel suffocated from far away.

That was talent—unreasonable talent. Heaven had not only handed him food, but fed it straight into his mouth and even given him a spoon capable of flipping the entire table.

Next came Black Marsh.

Ang still wore that half-dead, mocking expression as he carefully wiped his pallid fingers with a silk handkerchief.

Among Black Marsh's gloomy, bizarre wizards, he truly stood out like a lone blossom. There was no second person as flamboyant as him.

His flamboyance was not the gaudy kind that drew attention in the streets. It was a wickedness that seeped