Chapter 1035  Hey, Buddy...

Then came the turn of the Rank 12s to join the warfront. At this level, one could still find a few who had gamed the system, farming early ranks by taking down Rank 1 to 4 Digestors incapacitated by their minions, but none were wholly incompetent.

Killing a Rank 4 Digestor gained between 10,000 and 50,000 points. Considering that advancing from Oracle Rank 3 to 4 only required a million, it was entirely achievable, even for persistent Evolvers relying solely on their own merit. The silver-spooned elites could even aim for the Rank 6 of Staff Sergeant, with the more audacious targeting Rank 7, given the average stats of a Rank 4 Digestor hovered around 30 points.

However, even with these effortless promotions, one had to seek the next five Oracle Ranks through Ordeals. Starting from Rank 9 of Master Sergeant, it cost 200 rating points and 400 to ascend to Rank 12 Second Lieutenant.

This meant accumulating at least 1,100 rating points in just four Ordeals, even when starting from Rank 7, requiring a performance in the top 0.1% of all Players. Those starting from a lower rank, or even Rank 0, had to earn nearly double the rating points.

For this reason, in this wave of high-ranked Players, only about 42,000 from each side participated, totaling 84,000, which accounted for just over 0.5% of all participants. This rate, five times higher than expected, was due to the dwindling numbers of the incompetent Players. The natural selection of the initial four Ordeals had done its job, with only the truly confident (and a few oblivious daredevils) daring to venture forth.

Among the Myrtharian Nerds in this wave were a few Beskyrians, Eltarians, and Myrmidians, but the majority were Kintharians and Throsgenians. Despite their boundless strength, their legendary lethargy nipped any spark of ambition or enthusiasm in the bud, numbing even their fear of death. These guileless giants lived day by day without a care for tomorrow, reflected in their Ordeal Ratings.

The two unexpected notable players among them were the Egaean Shield Dancer, Nicolet, and the veteran Knight-Lancer, Ingranus the Bold. Both had come from dire straits, with vivid memories of their days languishing in Oracle Shelters rife with unchecked debauchery, drugs, famine, and despair. Had they not encountered Jake, their fates would've been sealed long ago.

When the aged knight, who now bore the striking physique of a vigorous, athletic man in his early thirties with a well-groomed goatee and mustache, opened his eyes and felt the crushing gravity envelop him, he couldn't help but flash an elegant smile.

"A good old war," he mused, a hint of nostalgia playing on his face. "It's been ages since I've set foot on an old-fashioned battlefield, where soldiers fight and earn their victories with pure grit instead of hiding behind fancy tricks or absurdly advanced tech."

Nicolet shared his sentiment but quickly frowned upon realizing he couldn't summon his shield or tap into his Earth Magic to conjure one. Noticing a short sword on his person, he tossed it to the ground with contempt, eyes scanning the vicinity for something.

"First order of business: I need a worthy shield from the armory," he reminded himself aloud, oblivious to the baffled barbarians nearby, wondering why he'd broken formation instead of marching with the rest.

A Shield Dancer without his shield was like a one-handed juggler. Performing adequately might not be impossible, but damn, he'd bet his boots it'd be a hell of a lot tougher...

The real wild card, though, was Esya. Having met her end in almost all her Ordeals, she owed her high rank to her exploits before her untimely eliminations.

When the stunning beauty, her pink hair neatly tied in a ponytail, opened her eyes, gone was her usual playful demeanor and zest for life. Far from her sister and aware she had no more respawns, her anxiety was palpable.

But her fear wasn't for herself. It was for her sister and all her comrades.

"I hope all of you make it, and we can celebrate our triumph at the end," she whispered, shedding a silent tear. But with a swift swipe of her sleeve and a resolute expression, she fell back in step with the oblivious barbarians around her.

They were too busy ogling her assets to notice her momentary heartache.

The arrival of the 84,000 or so Rank 12s went largely unnoticed, as they merged into an even larger army of conscripts. 36 hours later, the Rank 13 First Lieutenants made their grand entrance.

To achieve such a rank, one needed to accumulate between 1,500 and 2,200 rating points, depending on one's starting point and privilege level. This meant ranking between the top 0.001 and 0.000 001% in each of their four Ordeals. Spotting a weakling among them was now a fool's errand, and those few lacking in brute strength made up for it with cunning or skill, playing pivotal roles in their respective factions.

They numbered barely 1500, even including Players from both Mirror Universes, but ironically, the Myrtharian Nerds boasted a good quantity of their iconic members in this rank:

Will Hopkins, Vincent Wilderth, Kevin Wilderth, Skorgeld, Trea, Fo, Temra, Peter Brady, Jinlong, Daniel Wilderth, a handful of dragons, several Myrmidians, a smattering of Aristocats, and many more. Each had gained their stripes, their power undeniable even among Players of the same rank.

As soon as he opened his eyes, Will's brow furrowed, sensing none of his dragon friends nearby through his Draconic Link. He felt diminished. After quickly assessing the gravity and other constraints, his face took on a thoughtful expression.

"I need to find a way to reconnect with the others," he thought, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Never thought I'd rue the day I got my current Oracle Rank, but starting this way? It's a downright handicap. Gonna take time to catch up..."

Throughout this introspection, Will never missed a step. None of the barbarians noticed the soldier marching amongst them had shifted essence...

Whether it was Vincent, Kevin, Daniel, or the others, their reactions were largely consistent. With a few notable exceptions. Take, for instance, Peter Brady...

"Hey, buddy..."

soldier beside him smoked from a long pipe, even before he could grasp the language. His babbling in an alien tongue landed him Upon waking, his first move was to swipe the fragrant herb the soldier beside him smoked from a long pipe, even before he could grasp the language. His babbling in an alien tongue landed him promptly in the grasp of the nearest Soulmancer.

Clueless about the unfolding events, Peter followed willingly, thinking this black brocade-robed figure, adorned with silver, looked well off. By tailing him, he might snag some superior weed...

Another exception was Jinlong. Finding no sign of Will, he instinctively reverted to his original form: a majestic golden dragon. The chaos this incited among the regiment of Underworld Barbarians he was amidst meant he instantly faced a hail of lethal projectiles, each arrow and lance gleaming with radiant runes.

Slicing through the air swifter than shooting stars, they pierced his scales and wing membranes in a heartbeat. Letting out a powerless roar of fury, he plummeted, raising a cloud of dust upon impact. Shortly after, a Soulmancer fitted him with a peculiar collar etched with inscriptions. The moment it clasped around his neck, Jinlong realized he couldn't remove it by his own might. One mere moment of hubris had dashed his hopes to bits.

"Sorry, Will. It'll be a while before I can join you," he rumbled, his deep voice barely above a whisper before he vanished into an amphora adorned with ancient symbols, held aloft by the Soulmancer who had captured him.

On a starkly different note, Duchess, the leopardess and Crunch's love interest, cautiously opened her eyes. She found herself caged behind steel bars, alongside a cavalcade of creatures, some more frightening than the next. The pungent blend of stale urine and various animal excrements immediately attacked her keen nose, triggering a bout of dry heaves.

Straining to overhear on the conversations of the strange half-giants escorting the convoy of cages she was a part of, with some intense focus, she soon discerned they were dealing with Beast Tamers. To protect her identity, she'd have to play the obedient pet for now, and ideally, earn the trust of one of them...

It promised to be an experience she'd find deeply... degrading.

Next up were the even rarer and elitist Rank 14 Oracle Captains, followed by the Rank 15 Oracle Majors. The former didn't even reach 200 in total, evenly split between the two Mirror Universes, while the latter numbered in the mere forties.

This is where the Myrtharian Nerds truly flexed their muscles. They boasted nine Rank 14 Players, including Enya, Svara, Haynt, Aisling, Tim Paradis, Drastan, Aurum, Hasta, and Pictorus. As for the Rank 15, they had even more.

Hade, Asfrid, Gerulf, Rogen, Mufasa, Shere Khan, Crunch, Lord Phenix, Azeus, Galadin, Eris, Nyx; each was a force to be reckoned with, and some like Hade were just points shy of Rank 16. This meant that Jake's faction controlled a whopping 60% of Rank 15 Players fighting for their Mirror Universe. Had Jake known these stats, he would've flipped.

How damned weak was their Mirror Universe, for crying out loud?