Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2362  Armix Race, Armixian Champion

Date: Unspecified Time: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Lil. Red Storm, Seed World, Trophy Section, Duel Realm, Crafting Sector, Venue: Chaos Dwarven Forge.

"Okay, contestants, the thirty minutes are up! Hope you've chosen your champions wisely," the judges announced, making yet another dazzling entrance. They soared around the colosseum, their tail leaving shimmering trails of light. With a flick of the judge's tail, the arena began to transform. The two open workshops melted away into the floor, replaced by a vast, open battlefield, ready for the upcoming corpse puppet match.

The judges scanned the contestants with sharp, expectant eyes. "Contestants, send your first champion to the ring!" the judges declared, their voice echoing through the colosseum.

From Wyatt's side, Dulas stepped forward into the arena, her confidence radiating in every step. On Bigold's side, a slender demon merchant with six arms appeared, drawing murmurs from the audience. This opponent was an Armix Race demon—renowned masters of corpse puppetry.

The Armix Race, infamous among all beings in the dark realm and myriad realms alike, were specialists in spiritual puppetry arts. Their unique racial trait, the one that allowed them to control all six pairs of their arms simultaneously, made them unparalleled in certain fields. Among their most terrifying skills was their expertise in spiritual arts like inanimate telekinesis and motion manipulation. This allowed them not only to control multiple puppets at once but also to command puppets far stronger than themselves. Naturally, corpse puppets, known for their durability and reliability, became their preferred weapon of choice.

Dulas narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her opponent. She couldn't suppress the frown that crept onto her face. "Where did you come from? I didn't see any Armix demons or devil merchants in the audience," she said, her voice laced with suspicion. She crossed her arms, her stance stiff with unease. "When did you even arrive?"

Her opponent simply smirked, the faintest flicker of a taunt in their expression. The crowd leaned in, eager to see how this unexpected match-up would unfold.

"Did my uncle hire you for the match? Did he use the Elder's authority to sneak you into the colosseum halfway through the crafting duel?" Dulas fired off her questions, her voice sharp and accusatory. She clenched her fists, her anger barely contained as she glared at the Armix demon merchant. The idea that her uncle—someone she once admired as a genius crafter—could stoop to such low tactics was almost too much to bear.

She could accept her uncle exploiting loopholes in the rules. After all, they were Chaos Dwarfs and demon merchants—being crafty was practically in their blood. But this? This was outright cheating. Abusing the unique authority granted to their race's elders for managing the Chaos Dwarven Forge wasn't just dishonorable; it was a betrayal of everything she respected about him.

Her thoughts churned like a storm as she struggled to reconcile her frustration. 'If my contestant had access to the same authority, I wouldn't be this mad,' she admitted to herself. Then it'd just be their fault for not thinking of this loophole first. But the unfairness of it all stung deeply. She glanced toward the judges, the urge to appeal bubbling within her, but she knew it was pointless. The rules were deliberately vague, leaving plenty of room for broad interpretation.

Still, this one act had shattered her image of her uncle. The respect she once held for him crumbled like brittle iron, leaving only disappointment in its wake. She shook her head slightly, muttering under her breath, 'He's not the genius I thought he was… just an incompetent cheat.'

The Armix race demon merchant said nothing, his expression unreadable, but the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes suggested he were enjoying her turmoil. The audience buzzed with hushed whispers, sensing the tension building in the arena.

Meanwhile, Bigold was grappling with his own storm of betrayal and frustration, much like Dulas felt toward him. He couldn't believe his niece—his own crafting assistant—had chosen to act as his opponent's champion in the crafting duel. The act struck him as a profound betrayal.

How could she do this to me? he thought, his jaw tightening. He could understand this kind of treachery from Biore; that little runt had hated him from the birth. But Dulas? He had been nothing but supportive, guiding her through her crafting journey, mentoring her with patience and care. And yet, here she was, siding with his opponent.

The realization was devastating. His chest felt heavy as he resolved, then and there, to teach her a lesson once this duel was over. Maybe he'd even go so far as to remove her and Biore's names from the family ancestry—a fitting punishment for this kind of disloyalty.

But first, he had a match to contend with. Bigold's eyes narrowed as he considered his options. 'Perhaps I can appeal to the judges?' The thought lingered briefly. He reasoned that Dulas, being his assistant and technically part of the colosseum's staff, shouldn't count as an audience member and therefore couldn't legally participate as a champion. However, just as he was about to speak, he received a mental transmission from his Elder.

'Bigold, let Dulas and Biore be,' the Elder's voice rang in his mind, firm and commanding. 'In the past, it was decided that staff could also be considered part of the audience and could participate in voting or matches. Nothing you say here will convince the judges to disqualify Dulas as your opponent's champion.'

Bigold gritted his teeth, but the Elder wasn't finished. 'Besides, if you lose this duel, their participation could serve as a silver lining. It won't look like you were defeated by some obscure demon merchant from the far corners of the Myriad Realm that no one has heard of. Instead, it'll seem as though you lost to two young and exceptionally talented Chaos Dwarfs. In other words, you'll have been bested by your own kind, which is far less disgraceful.'

Bigold clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling to the surface. 'But Elder, with the Armix race assisting me, I won't lose!' His mental tone carried both defiance and desperation, unwilling to accept that his Elder seemed to be preparing for his failure. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The Elder sighed, his voice calm but unyielding. 'Don't underestimate your enemy. This is merely a contingency plan.'

Bigold took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he fought to keep his emotions in check. 'Fine, Elder. But if I win, I want Dulas and Biore removed from the family ancestry for this treacherous act,' he demanded, his voice dripping with venom. His vindictiveness knew no bounds; even if those who crossed him were his own little brother and niece, he would stop at nothing to see them branded as traitors.

The Elder's response came swiftly, with a chilling finality. 'Don't worry. I already planned to do so, regardless of whether you win or lose. The only difference is this: if you win, you'll redeem yourself. But for them? They sealed their fate the moment they chose to stand against their family.'

Bigold nodded, his face darkening. He glanced at the arena, his resolve hardening as the match loomed closer.

"All right, champions, listen up!" the judges announced, their voice booming across the arena. "Standard corpse puppet combat rules will be used to judge these matches. Keep that in mind—and don't be the reason your Master Crafter gets disqualified and loses the crafting duel!"

The warning was clear and harsh. Any fault on the champions' part would lead directly to their Master Crafter's loss—a punishment severe enough to make the stakes crystal clear.

Dulas and the Armix demon merchant both nodded solemnly, their expressions focused. Seeing their readiness, the judges wasted no time. "Ready or not, fight!" they roared, their voices electrifying the air.

At the command, both contestants summoned their respective corpse puppets.

Before Dulas, a hulking, blue-armored Frosling Corpse Puppet materialized. Its presence immediately chilled the arena, the temperature dropping several degrees as frost crept along the ground. The puppet's shimmering ice armor glinted menacingly under the colosseum lights.

Meanwhile, the Armix demon merchant's corpse puppet appeared—a slender, bare-bones Frosling warrior clad in nothing but a ragged loincloth. Its simplicity stood in stark contrast to Dulas's elaborately armored champion.

Dulas smirked, her confidence evident. She wasted no time. "World Hammer!" she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive.

In an instant, her Frosling corpse puppet activated its Glacier Silk skill. Shimmering threads of icy energy coalesced using 3D printing, forming a massive warhammer with a head three times its size. Without hesitation, the puppet swung the colossal weapon with incredible speed and force, aiming straight for the Armix merchant's Frosling corpse puppet.

The hammer tore through the air with a deafening whoosh, the sheer speed of the attack sending shockwaves across the arena. The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps, their excitement mounting as the first clash of the match began.

The Armix demon merchant's eyes gleamed with cunning as their Frosling corpse puppet sprang into action. With an almost eerie fluidity, it dodged the colossal hammer swing by a hair's breadth, the icy weapon slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash, sending shards of ice flying in every direction.