When the old man spoke, many of the tribe's guards gathered in the middle of the village. They stood in neat rows, their attention fixed on one person—Ethan.

"Fighting all of them before sunrise? Are you insane?!" Risa protested.

"If he can't defeat them, then I doubt his ability to save us," the old man said firmly, his tone stubborn and sharp.

Risa clicked her tongue and glanced around. She could see many men of the Blood-Cursed tribe standing ready, gripping their spears tightly.

She didn't know exactly how strong these warriors on the second floor were, but judging by their numbers and their confidence, she was sure they were no pushovers.

Now, everything depended on Ethan—whether he could handle them or not.

The tribe chief pulled out a teleportation token from his hand. It looked exactly like Risa's. Ethan narrowed his eyes when he saw it.

"If you succeed, take this token and go. We won't stop you," the chief said.

"With that woman going with you, she should be able to activate it," he added.

The side quest requires me to relocate all Blood-Cursed tribe members to the 50th floor. That means every tribe member below the 50th must be moved.

If I ignore it, it'll just make things harder later.

"Do I have to kill them?" Ethan asked.

"Hahaha!"

"He thinks he can kill us all by himself! What a joke!"

"You won't be able to kill us that easily, no matter what you try!"

Ethan turned his gaze around, hearing their mocking laughter. It was annoying to listen to, but he didn't get angry.

He'd been underestimated too many times already. Why get mad when he can just prove them wrong?

"No," the tribe chief said.

"Don't kill them. Just hurt them until they can't fight and surrender."

Ethan sighed and looked over at Leon and Risa, signaling them to step out of the arena.

Risa initially refused—she disagreed with the chief's arrangement.

But Ethan calmly assured her that he needed that teleportation token to save the tribe's people.

Seeing the determination in his eyes, Risa finally gave in. She could only pray for Ethan's victory, while Leon, on the other hand, already trusted Ethan completely.

Slowly, Leon led Risa away from the field to the outer edge, where they stood and watched intently.

"Can we start now?" Ethan asked.

The tribe chief nodded and ordered one of his men to enter the field and challenge Ethan.

Many of the tribe's men wanted to be the first challenger, but the chief picked one at random—a tall, athletic man carrying a wooden spear.

He stood at a fair distance from Ethan, not too close.

"Are you ready to die?!" the man taunted, pointing his spear forward.

"Die? Isn't killing forbidden in this fight?"

"You're not allowed to kill us, but we're free to kill you."

Ethan glanced back briefly, watching the chief. The old man didn't seem to deny it.

So there are double standards here.

Still, Ethan had no choice. The only way to prove himself was to win—without killing. It was difficult, but not impossible.

The man charged forward, swinging and thrusting his spear toward Ethan. Ethan narrowed his eyes, focused, and dodged every strike effortlessly—they were slow in his eyes.

That was the advantage of his higher level.

The other challengers stopped cheering. They were stunned by what they saw.

"H-how is he dodging every strike?"

"He hasn't even drawn his sword yet. Is he planning to fight bare-handed?"

"Forget it. If he keeps dodging like that until sunrise, he'll lose anyway."

Ethan caught the spear's swing with his bare hand, snapping the wooden shaft in two. Everyone gasped.

Then, with lightning speed, he lunged forward and drove his fist into the man's stomach.

A burst of power exploded on impact, sending the challenger collapsing to the ground, coughing blood but still alive.

Ethan ended the first fight in less than three minutes. The old chief simply nodded, impressed.

"Impressive hand-to-hand technique. I'm impressed," the old man said.

Risa jumped with joy, smiling widely. Leon smiled too, clapping a few times for Ethan's first win against a hundred challengers.

"Who's next?" Ethan asked.

"You. Step forward and fight him," the chief ordered another man.

"Too slow. Send 10 at once," Ethan demanded.

"Ten? Are you sure?" Risa asked in shock.

Ethan nodded. The old man didn't refuse—he laughed instead, clearly entertained.

"Very well. You heard him! Ten challengers, enter the field now!" the chief shouted.

The fight grew more intense. Ten men stood in a line, facing Ethan. The crowd thickened as more people came to watch.

"Fighting 10 at once? He's insane."

"I don't know. His strength earlier was terrifying. He made Lon collapse."

"That was one-on-one. This is different. He'll lose focus."

Ethan stretched his right hand forward, summoning his sword—Tempest Reaver.

He couldn't use the Bloodblade Ashura; it was too powerful and might kill them. Tempest Reaver, while legendary, was still safer.

[Tempest Mode Activated]

Ethan's appearance changed—his black hair turned silvery white. His strength surged, faintly felt even by the crowd, but clearly by the ten men in front of him.

He didn't plan to use any powerful skills; he'd rely only on speed and basic attacks, even if it took longer.

"The second match… begins!"

Ethan dashed forward, leaving only a blur of wind behind. The ten men froze, unsure of what to do.

"Hold your ground! Don't let him—"

SLASH!

Before the man could finish, Ethan struck diagonally across his chest.

"AAARGH!"

The others turned, shocked to see their comrade wounded. They attacked with their spears, but Ethan moved too fast—his agility and movement speed overwhelmed them.

None of their strikes hit him. Instead, Ethan's blade found them one by one, leaving cuts and panic in their ranks.

The old chief watched closely and smiled, nodding in approval. He could see the drastic increase in Ethan's power.

One of the elders whispered to him, clearly worried about the challengers' safety. But the chief couldn't take back his words—it would destroy his authority.

He believed someone among them could still stand against Ethan.

The fight continued. Ethan moved like the wind, untouchable. Some challengers began to give up, unsure how to stop him.

Ethan's final slash struck a man's neck, slicing it open. The man fell twitching, blood spilling across the ground—a gruesome sight that shattered the morale of the others.

"The second match is over," Ethan said firmly, standing where he began and driving his sword into the ground.

No one clapped. Instead, the crowd rushed to carry the wounded away for treatment.

The old chief was the only one impressed.

"Amazing strength. The Blood-Cursed tribe's first-floor chief will surely admire you, Ethan," the old man said.

"Enough with your talk. Bring 20 at once."

"I'll finish this before midnight."

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