Chapter 437 - 437 A Tough Situation

437: A Tough Situation 437: A Tough Situation Max blinked, speechless for a moment, before a wry smile curled his lips.

‘Damn it, Tower Spirit… you shouldn’t give a title like that publicly,’ he thought, feeling both amused and exasperated by the divine theatrics.

In his mind, a calm voice replied, amused.

“I didn’t do that.

It was the master’s doing, in his final moment before he faded away.” “The master?” Max asked silently.

“Yes.

And… you may call me Xolo,” the spirit answered, its voice now carrying a sense of familiarity, no longer just a voice of the trial, but of a companion bound to the tower itself.

‘Xolo,’ Max echoed internally, letting the name settle in his mind.

‘I see… so it was all his doing,’ he thought, exhaling slowly as the crowd continued to stare.

He didn’t ask for this attention, but now that he had it—he would carry it.

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for leveling up the Title “Aura of Primordial” to “Primordial”] ‘Huh?

Even title could be leveled up?’ Max was stunned seeing the system notification.

He had never heard of this before ever.

‘Wait a minute… This leveling up of title… Was it due to my achievement in the Pillar of Divine Appraisal?’ He thought his eyes widening in realization.

It was at this moment he realized that maybe the Primordial in the “Aura of Primordial” was linked to the Primordial Race.

It could explain why the pressures from people ranked higher than him had no effect on him.

It was the effect of the title Aura of Primordial.

Just when he was about to check the description of his newly upgraded title, Max’s senses sharpened.

He felt it—a dense, aggressive presence pushing against the air like a brewing storm.

His head turned slowly toward the source, and his eyes narrowed.

From the crowd stepped a hulking demon, his body towering with bulging muscles, skin ashen red and marked with black tribal patterns that pulsed faintly with energy.

A massive sword rested across his back like a slab of dark steel, humming with suppressed power.

Behind him marched a group of demons, all clad in black armor, eyes burning with hostility.

‘Demons…’ Max thought coldly, his jaw tightening as he took a slow breath.

He already knew what had happened during his absence—Xolo had told him everything.

From Craig attempting to use his Authority to the tension rising to the brink of bloodshed, he knew it all.

“Kid, you’re good,” Craig said with a sneer, his voice thick and laced with scornful amusement.

“To be able to force the tower to create a new level… you’re something else.

Unique.

One of a kind.” Max turned to face the demon fully, his pink eyes unblinking.

“So what?” he asked flatly, his lips curling into a mocking smirk as his gaze scanned Craig from head to toe, silently measuring him.

‘Tenth level of Seeker Realm…’ “Nothing,” Craig growled, his expression twisting into a snarl.

“I’m just here to kill you!” As the last word left his mouth, his aura exploded outward like a tidal wave, thick and suffocating.

His killing intent flooded the hall as he moved forward to attack—his figure a blur of muscle and wrath.

But before he could take a proper step, two shadows flashed into place between him and Max—Adam and Fagus, standing firm with unshaken resolve.

Their presence instantly stopped Craig’s advance.

He narrowed his eyes, scoffing, “Humph… Have you thought about the price of fighting here?” His words were like a blade.

Sharp.

Intentional.

Adam’s expression hardened, the weight of Craig’s words hitting him like a hammer.

He glanced at Fagus, whose face was just as grim.

They could defeat Craig together—of that, there was no doubt.

But doing so… would be catastrophic.

If they killed the First Seat of the Demon Race here, now, inside the Tower of Truth, it would no longer be a matter of personal conflict.

It would be a declaration of war.

A war between the human race and the demons.

And if that war erupted, the elves would likely join the demons, seeing the humans as a growing threat.

And the truth, no matter how bitter, was undeniable—humans weren’t ready.

They couldn’t win a war against two of the dominant races of the Lost Continent.

‘Damn it!’ Adam cursed silently, fists clenched at his sides.

‘Max is too important to lose.

He’s our hope.

He’s the one who might change everything… but so is the survival of the human race.’ His mind raced.

‘What do I do?

What can I do?’ The lives of millions hung in a fragile balance, and with one wrong move, they would all fall into blood-soaked chaos.

Max also observed the situation.

His pink eyes shifted from Craig’s towering, bloodthirsty form to the two humans—Adam and Fagus—standing defensively between them.

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression calm but thoughtful as he took in the tense atmosphere, the frozen stillness of the tenth floor where every breath seemed to hold weight.

‘The situation here is worse than I imagined,’ he thought silently, his gaze sweeping across the wide circle of onlookers—demons with smoldering glares, elves with silent interest, and humans whose eyes flickered with everything from admiration to jealousy to fear.

But amidst the noise, the pressure, the threats, there was one thing that brought him a small measure of comfort: ‘not all humans here want me dead.’ In a continent where he was branded as an outsider, a threat, and a disgrace by one faction of his own kind, seeing Adam and Fagus stand for him—stand with him—was enough to quiet the storm that had been brewing in his chest.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the larger picture.

Looking at all of them, he mused, taking in the sheer number of powerful beings now circling the center of the hall, every eye watching, every muscle coiled.

‘If I fight Craig here… it won’t be a duel.’ He sighed inwardly.

‘I’m not afraid of battle.

Not against him.

Not against anyone here.’ His confidence was unshakable, born from everything he had endured and achieved.

But even so, he understood the consequences.

‘If it breaks out… it’ll be chaos.’ With this many people in one place—this many high-ranking beings—once blood was drawn, there would be no going back.

Rage would spread like wildfire, factions would choose sides, and the tenth floor would become a warzone.

And if that happens, Max thought grimly, ‘things will get very, very troublesome.’ ‘It seems… I can only use my Authority,’ Max thought, his gaze cool and sharp as the tension in the air continued to rise.

Though what he held was far greater than the Authority granted to the top five geniuses of each race, he saw his control over the Tower as a variation of that same concept—absolute influence within these walls.

And while the others used Authority to eliminate a single threat, Max could bend the tower itself to his will.

In his hands, the Tower wasn’t a weapon.

It was a kingdom.

A realm.

And it responded to his thoughts.

‘Still… if I can avoid using it prematurely, I should.’ “Craig, let me fight him.” Just then, as if fate was buying him time, a new figure stepped forward between Max and Craig, halting the gathering storm of battle with his sudden appearance.

His aura was dark, cold, and familiar—one that had once oppressed the entire floor to prevent any challengers from reaching Max.

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS ShinGotLost Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!