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Lady Vinegar did not comment on this. It was true that she had appeared at a very opportune time. However, she had also been heading here as she had tracked the giant octopus that attacked that day.

"So what is it going to be? Will you chicken out of this one? It will be our biggest bet yet." 

Agnes thought about it for a bit. She looked once more at Lenny and then back at Vinegar. 

It was true that Lenny was capable of incredible things. However, she could not help but remember the sorry state he had been only a little more than a week ago.

Back then, he could not even fight off an ordinary mutated octopus barely in the first rank of the Deep Demon Realm. 

She did not see the possibility that he was able to fight off her own brother. 

No one, not even their father knew Riff like she did. 

"Are you sure about this?" Agnes asked Lady Vinegar, her face revealing that she had once more recovered her confidence, "Consuming the Core of a half born from the Medusa Race will be an incredible pleasure I\'ll delight in." 

Lady Vinegar smiled, "Good! Then let\'s seal it with a contract." 

Both women nodded at each other as they bit into their fingers and shook hands.

~Sanguis Foedus~

The Blood Pact. It had now been signed. 

Both women carrying satisfying smiles on their faces relaxed once more in their seats as they continued to watch the happening of the Tournament.

Both of them had their own individual thoughts and plans in their minds.

Meanwhile, Lenny was finally done with changing his clothes. 

He had not rushed, taking his time to strip and wear his clean change of clothes. 

Lenny turned to Victor. "Are you ready?" 

Victor nodded. 

Without rushing, both of them headed for the portal. 

There were those in the audience who gritted their teeth at the two as they strolled towards the portal, taking such an important competition as a joke. 

It really infuriated them. 

if they could, they would dive into the Arena and stab them both to death.

Lenny took a Knee and Victor mounted his back. Immediately, he entered into the portal. 

All of a sudden, Screens showing what was happening on the other side showed up. 

As one would expect, seeing the activities taking place in Tundra was difficult.

The Tundra was a plane with an abnormal environment.

In this extreme environment, the atmosphere hung heavy with an oppressive heat that seemed to press down upon everything like an unyielding force. Even at its coldest, a bone-chilling 300 degrees, the air crackled with an intensity that could melt steel. The very molecules seemed to vibrate with frenetic energy, creating an atmosphere of constant tension.

During the rare respite when the temperature dipped to its lowest, the world took on an eerie stillness. The air, though scorching by most standards, felt almost cool in comparison to the searing peaks it could reach. The ground, rocky and barren with ice, radiated a faint, residual warmth and pressure as if retaining the memory of the intense heat it had absorbed during the day.

But when the temperature soared to its peak of 1300 degrees, the atmosphere became a raging inferno. The air shimmered with visible waves of heat, distorting the landscape into a surreal, mirage-like panorama. The sky itself seemed to be ablaze, painted in fiery hues of orange and red, with the sun casting a malevolent, unrelenting glare upon the desolate terrain below.

In this blistering heat, the very ground seemed to tremble with the intensity of the temperature, sending ripples of heat waves across the landscape. Ice Rocks, surprisingly glowed red-hot, their surfaces slick with molten minerals. Any semblance of life had long since vanished, if it ever existed at all, leaving behind a scorched, inhospitable wasteland.

The atmosphere, thick with the stench of scorched earth that stubbornly refused to melt, hung low, suffocating any attempt at respite. Breathing felt like inhaling fire, each breath searing the lungs. The wind, if it could be called so, was a scalding blast that offered no relief, only carrying the acrid scent of burning minerals and charred remnants.

In this extreme environment, survival was not just a challenge; it was a battle against the very elements themselves. The atmosphere, oscillating between the bone-chilling cold of 300 degrees and the blistering furnace of 1300 degrees, painted a picture of a world perpetually on the edge of combustion, where the air itself seemed to burn with an unquenchable, elemental fury.

In the heart of this inhospitable realm, the competitors in their Rune adorned armor embarked on this journey fraught with a basin of excruciating sensations. 

With every step, the frozen lithosphere beneath their feet transmitted a bone-chilling cold that seeped through their protective layers, gnawing at their skin like a thousand icy needles. 

Their shoes, designed to insulate against extreme temperatures, failed to shield them entirely. The sensation was not just cold; it was a biting, stabbing pain that shot through their limbs, making each movement an ordeal of torment.

The very air, heavy with the stench of burnt minerals and charred earth, clung to their skin like a suffocating shroud. 

The smell, acrid and metallic, filled their nostrils, triggering an involuntary gag reflex. 

Each breath felt like inhaling the remnants of a scorched battlefield, the particles of dust and ash scratching the back of their throats, making each inhale a searing agony.

The sounds of their movements were amplified in this desolate expanse. The crunch of their shoes against the frozen ground reverberated like thunder, the noise resonating in their bones, emphasizing the weight of the gravity that bore down upon them. Even their armor, usually a source of comfort and protection, seemed to creak in protest with every step, the metal groaning under the immense pressure, as if mirroring the anguish of its wearer.

Touch became a cruel reminder of their vulnerability. 

The metal of their armor, once smooth and comforting, now felt like a prison, constricting around their bodies with each movement. Straps dug into their flesh, chafing, and bruising, creating additional points of pain that merged with the overall discomfort. 

Everyone had their magic activated to fight against the vile environment as they gave their all to push forward.

Their magic, usually a source of power, and confidence, felt feeble in this hostile environment. As many of them cast protective spells, the energy produced, sizzled weakly, and the normally vibrant hues dimmed to a mere flicker. Even the touch of their own magic, once a comforting tingling sensation, now felt distant and diluted, as if the very essence of their powers had frozen in the face of the intense cold.

In this land where touch, smell, and hearing were transformed into instruments of torture, the competitors persevered, driven by a resilience that defied the harsh reality. Each sensation, whether it was the biting cold against their skin, the acrid smell that invaded their nostrils, or the amplified sounds of their movements, served as a reminder of their mortal vulnerability. Yet, amid the torment, Lenny came through swaggering his way like he was strolling through a park of roses.

All of them gasped in shock...