"Your son is pretty arrogant, daring to challenge all the young geniuses of the Celestial Realm."
"That's not arrogance; it's confidence," Ansor responded indifferently, looking at the Seraph descendant he had just beaten up, whose face still bore bruises.
"Do you have the strength to challenge the entire Celestial Realm?" The beaten-up Legendary Seraph descendant, understanding now why Ansor had sought him out just because of his surname Raphael, asked sullenly.
"I can give it a try!" Ansor replied, acknowledging that it would be difficult. Titans were strong, but in the vast Celestial Realm, there were numerous beings capable of opposing them. At least in this Cloud City, the Seraph descendant before him was one of them.
"Hey, you're not entirely sure, are you? So why do you think your son can do it?" asked the Seraph descendant who had just been beaten.
"He already defeated an eight-winged Seraph from your race. Don't you think he can achieve this?" Ansor retorted. Denying it would imply that the Seraph race was too weak.
"If it's a battle between those at the same level, it's possible," the Seraph descendant admitted reluctantly. "But don't get too cocky. Your son first needs to challenge everyone in our race before he can qualify to challenge the geniuses from the entire Celestial Realm."
"Didn't Lord Aludiba just say? Challenging your Seraph race's geniuses is just a warm-up."
"A warm-up?" The owner of Cloud City wasn't pleased. "Elishu is at the bottom among the eight-winged. There are two others stronger than him. Your son might not even finish warming up before being knocked out!"
"How strong can they be if they're all eight-winged? Oh, by the way, if you really dislike my son, you can suppress your power and try fighting him yourself," Ansor suggested with a smile, looking at the Seraph descendant before him, who only had three pairs of wings.
"He's just a junior; I wouldn't stoop to bullying him."
"Sounds nice, but you're afraid of losing face, right?" Ansor teased. "Don't worry. You're only six-winged. Even if you lose, no one will mock you."
"Ansor!" the owner of Cloud City roared, grabbing his weapon and engaging Ansor in battle once more.
...
"Lord Irvist!" A squad of six-winged Holy Light Angels arrived through a teleportation array to a small world, finding a blood-soaked Seraph descendant standing atop the corpse of a multi-headed dragon monster.
The three-headed dragon was a fearsome beast, a wyvern with no forelimbs and two tails. Its massive body exuded a strong stench of blood, indicating it had slaughtered countless creatures. Yet now, it lay in a pool of blood, its three heads severed and hearts crushed, still showing faint signs of life.
"What is it?" Irvist, covered in blood, looked at the arriving Holy Light Angels, his fatigue evident. He had battled this three-headed dragon for three months, finally wearing down its life force. The central area of this world was now a dead zone, devoid of life and unlikely to recover anytime soon.
"Lord, the Titan named Muria..." The Holy Light Angels reported everything about Muria to Mikaela's brother, Irvist, a Legendary Seraph descendant for over thirty years.
"Muria, I remember him. A Titan-Dragon hybrid, huh? If he wants to defeat all the Celestial Realm's geniuses, he'll have to get through me first!" Irvist's eyes blazed with killing intent.
"Lord, do you need a few days to rest?" The Holy Light Angels looked at the dragon corpse under Irvist's feet with awe. It was miraculous that such a powerful dragon could be born in such a barren world.
"No need." Irvist waved his sword, flicking off the blood. The image of a dragonslayer bathing in dragon blood wouldn't happen to him; that was for lower lifeforms. Dragon blood only made him uncomfortable—he had a cleanliness fetish. Besides, this three-headed dragon was a native species of this small world, unrelated to Erathia's dragons, though it resembled them.
In the short term, there wouldn't be another such dragon, as it had consumed most of the world's extraordinary resources, leaving no rival. Before Irvist's arrival, the locals had lived in constant fear.
"Take me back directly. I want to see what gives this hybrid Titan the confidence to pursue my sister after fifty years," Irvist scoffed.
"Lord, please calm down! Lord Elishu has been defeated; you should be cautious."
...
"Can the Seraph descendants below six wings stop wasting time?" On a white stone arena created by the Mountain King, Muria in Titan form effortlessly flung a four-winged Seraph descendant aside, clearly frustrated. This was the fifth four-winged challenger.
"Do you lack self-awareness? Or are you trying to exhaust me with four-winged before sending in the six or eight-winged?"
Muria ignored the Seraph descendant struggling to get up and addressed the other Seraph descendants and Holy Light Angels who had come to watch.
This arena, shaped by the Mountain Dragon King but reinforced by other Seraphs and Epics, suppressed the power of any being that entered, aligning it with the weaker contestant.
If a second-tier soul being entered, Muria's power would be similarly suppressed, limiting his physical strength but retaining his legendary body's defenses.
With his combat experience, Muria couldn't fathom losing. Those weaker than him thought they could win by leveling the playing field? Ridiculous.
Muria found that the Seraph race was full of self-important, or rather, extremely narcissistic individuals.
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