Supreme Lord: I can extract everything!



Michael's arrival in the arena attracted some attention. He was the first human student to enter the arena, causing a small commotion among the Berserkers and Warlock Centaurs.

"Look who's here. A pair of old and young. Two tiny little humans," A Berserker bellowed through the arena, his voice filled with a mixture of scorn and disgust. 

"Is this old wreck your nanny, little one?" The same Berserker asked. He jumped across the arena and landed in front of Michael with a thump.

The ground around him trembled as he landed, causing tremors to spread through Michael's legs.

Prideful, bad temper, and always out for a fight. The four meter tall Berserker in front of Michael was one of the best examples to describe the Berserker race. His muscles were bulging and his crimson eyes were filled with battle intent. Michael wouldn't be surprised if the Berserker were to throw a fist at him in the open.

Actually, that would be quite interesting. 

Michael used the Eagle Eyes Soultrait with four layers of Enhancement. Simultaneously he exerted Pandemonium's Requiem to replenish the energy his Eagle Eyes used up. 

The origin energy in the arena was not dense or of high quality. It was incomparable to the origin energy that permeated the air in the Untamed Jungle. Nonetheless, it was enough to keep Michael's energy storage filled to the brim. 

"Origin Generators. Six of them in a single arena, at that. Piloq is really a city constructed for the sole purpose of whetting the strongest, and preparing for the worst in the Origin Expanse," Michael mumbled. He looked past the Berserker at the origin generators that generated the origin energy permeating the air using high-ranked monster cores as fuel.

The Berserker's provocation was entirely useless against Michael. It would take a little bit more to gain his interest – or wrath. After his last clash with the Zan Twins and Mr. Klein, Michael grew a lot calmer. He understood that he had to learn how to control his emotions, how to read the room, and what to do if something similar to last time was to happen again.

"Puny Fletchling! Are you ignoring me?!" The Berserker growled, origin energy circulating through his body. A crimson membrane covered the Berserker's body and his eyes turned crimson. His veins popped up, and his flat hand smashed down beside Michael the next moment.

The Berserker's hand missed Michael by a hair's breadth, yet Michael didn't even blink. He looked over to the Berserker and smiled lightly.

"I read a lot about your kind, but you guys really have a short temper. Isn't that why most Berserkers lost their rights as Lords?" Michael asked straightforwardly. He didn't have to use a sarcastic undertone in his voice, or anything like that. His words cut deep into the hearts of the Berserkers in the range of his voice.

They began to shout angrily and some of them were about to jump out of the combat rings to remove Michael from the arena first. But before they could do something, they heard bursts of laughter from left and right.

The Warlock Centaurs couldn't contain their laughter seeing how easily a few sentences enraged dozens of Berserkers. 

"Why are you laughing, Mekhaz?!" The Berserker standing in front of Michael shouted across the arena, staring at a particular Warlock Centaur, who had three eyes and a much larger body than the rest.

The Warlock Centaur, Mekhaz, continued to chuckle. He ignored the Berserker, whose expression turned sour.

"See, even the Warlock Centaurs agree that your temper is messed up. If you were a little bit calmer, you might still have your territory," Michael delivered another deep blow.

However, this time, the Berserker couldn't hold back anymore. It hadn't been long since he lost his territory in a huge war against three enemies, who had combined their forces to wear out his combatants and defeat him. He and his army might have been strong enough to fight against enemies five times their numbers, but that hadn't been enough to win the war. He lost, and had to leave the Origin Expanse to survive. 

Even then, he barely survived by a hair's breadth. His honor was lost, and his pride took a hit. Everything he had worked for had been taken away from him – just like it had happened to many Berserkers in the past.

Berserkers were a war-loving race. However, they weren't strategists. Their temper led to many wars in the Origin Expanse, most often against multiple parties simultaneously. But the Berserkers loved this. They loved the challenge of fighting against enemies no one else could defeat.

Unfortunately, many Berserkers had overestimated their prowess. Their combat prowess might be exceptional, but that didn't mean nobody was capable of using petty tricks to wear down the Berserkers and kill them when they reached their weakest point. 

Pride and honor was the most important to Berserkers, yet it didn't play an important role for many other Lords. All that mattered was to survive and to obliterate their enemies – no matter what it would take to emerge victorious!

The Berserker in front of Michael roared loudly. A stream of crimson light shrouded his other arm and he smashed down with the intention to squash Michael.

Kraft Viton noticed the killing intent and rage in the Berserker's eyes, and he was just about to move when he noticed that Michael tilted his body a quarter of a second before the Berserker had moved. 

Michael predicted the Berserker's attack. He moved forward and used the Berserker's size against him. Michael moved out of the danger zone by slipping under his right arm before his left arm hit the ground. He summoned a Glacicle the next moment and released it toward the Berserker, precisely his large ear.

Even though the Glacicle was not powerful, it could pierce through the ear and shatter inside the Berserker's head, freezing everything in its way.

Michael controlled the Glacicle precisely, stopping it right before it drilled deep into the Berserker's ear.

Interestingly enough, a layer of crimson light covered the Berserker's head even before the Glacicle reached the Berserker. The Glacicle would have been blocked even if Michael didn't do anything.

"At least your senses are pretty good, even when you're throwing a fit," Michael remarked, clearing his throat before he added, "I apologize for my rude behavior and for provoking you and your people." 

Michael was sincere when he apologized, but his tone was sharp as he added, "But that doesn't mean I allow anyone to think of me as a pushover. You started this conflict because you hold a prejudice against me."

His voice grew colder as he spoke, and a freezing chill spread out of Michael's body. 

"We can solve this issue with a battle. After that, your prejudice against me will disappear. I promise you that," Michael said, his tone clarifying that he had just made a statement and a promise.

The Berserker had been enraged, but also a little surprised. He didn't expect Michael to move that quickly nor that the human would attack him so fearlessly. 

Michael's words rang through the arena even before he could initiate a second attack. The Berserker came back to his senses just as the Warlock Centaur he called out earlier arrived next to him.

"Thaor. I know that you just lost your territory, but the human is not wrong. Just spar with him and go all-out," Mekhaz suggested, turning to Michael as he continued to speak, "This should be interesting."

Michael agreed with a simple nod. He receded the power unleashed through Glacicle and waited patiently. Thaor, the Berserker was a Mid Tier-2 Adventurer with an extremely strong physique. The crimson light felt like an extension of Thaor's body as well. It was different from the bloody aura most Berserkers learned to control when they were close to becoming Higher Lifeforms.

Michael presumed that Thaor was a prodigy participating in the Battle Exchange, and that his crimson aura was part of Thaor's Unique Constitution. By sparring with Thaor, Michael hoped to gain the respect and acknowledgement of more than five Warriors. That combined with his combat prowess should be more than enough to change his status from a Fletchling to a Warrior.

"I won't hold back," Thaor said, looking intently at Michael. He turned around and jumped down into the combat ring where he told everyone to make space for them.

The other Berserkers and Warlock Centaurs moved back instinctively, not daring to obstruct Thaor in any way.

Michael stared at the scene in front of him with interest. Mekhaz noticed that and explained, "He was a Champion until a few days ago. By losing his territory, he also lost his status. Regaining his status will be increasingly difficult now that he is not a Lord anymore."

Michael looked over to Mekhaz, his lips pressed together for a moment. Then, a smile formed on his lips.

"Fighting a Champion only a few hours after I arrived…that's exciting!" He responded, which earned him an interesting gaze from the Warlock Centaur.

"Do you even know what it means to become a Champion before advancing to Tier-3?" Mekhaz asked.

Michael shook his head. He didn't know, and he actually didn't really care.

"It means that he could hold his forte against another Tier-3 Champion. He is strong enough to defeat Warriors at the 3rd Tier." Mekhaz elaborated.

Michael was thankful for the explanation, but he could only shrug.

"So what? He is not the only one who can fight someone a league above him."