John was tense.
Every onlooker around was tense.
But none of them could truly grasp the depth of the tension felt by the three woodpeckers trapped inside the Iron Do.
Inside, the world had turned into a dark hell of endless, deafening noise.
The tallic clanging was overwhelming, pounding against their minds, rattling their very bones.
"I can’t hold on anymore!" chirped the pecker who had cast the Iron Sphere Wall.
But his voice was swallowed by the endless noise.
No one could hear him—not even the two at his side.
In desperation, he clawed at the others, trying to alert them through pain.
The other two, stunned by the noise, flinched at the sudden claws scratching their thighs.
The pain snapped them out of their stupor—reminding them that the real danger was far from over.
Cracks began to spiderweb across the Iron Do.
More and more cones grew out from the giant tree, endlessly firing at the battered shield.
It had turned into a brutal machine of destruction.
John, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t help but mutter with excitent,
"Hmm, a machine gun with an endless supply of ammunition..."
Just as the Iron Do shattered into dust, the other two peckers moved.
Instinct taking over, they activated their own signature skills.
Octagonal graphite mirrors materialized around them, spinning rapidly, forming a thin, makeshift barrier.
anwhile, the third pecker unleashed his Copper Bullet Art, firing a flurry of tallic projectiles at the incoming cones.
But even so, it wasn’t enough.
The cones punched through their defenses.
Wounds tore open across their bodies, and blood began to drizzle down their feathers.
Yet—they gritted their beaks and held the line.
Still resisting.
Still fighting.
John, seeing the grit in their eyes, shouted:
"Alright, ti’s up! Everyone halt what you’re doing!"
Woodie chirped in protest, clearly dissatisfied.
But with a quick chirp to the giant tree, she relented.
The roots slowly withdrew, burrowing back into the mountain.
In the air, the three battered woodpeckers sagged with exhaustion, gasping for breath.
Today, they had learned their lesson.
Never again would they dare provoke their ’little sister.’
John turned to Blackie, giving a reminder:
"Blackie, aren’t you going to pick your disciples? The House of Swallow’s turn is coming up soon."
"I’ll not take much ti." Blackie responded respectfully.
He had already marked the birds he wanted ntally during the battles—no need for hesitation.
Without delay, he soared into the air, calling out bird after bird.
Species didn’t matter.
What mattered was strength, potential, and spirit.
One after another, Blackie picked out a full hundred birds and had them line up in front.
As agreed, he split the batch:
—Fifty birds went to Woodie.
—The rest were divided between himself and his other three comrades.
Just as things seed settled, Woodie suddenly cried out:
"Big Brother Blackie! Are you trying to harm !?"
She stared at him with wide, suspicious eyes.
Blackie froze midair, confused.
"What? What? What happened now? Tell , my little princess."
Woodie, puffing her cheeks indignantly, explained:
"If I have to take fifty disciples... won’t I die from giving so much blood?!"
Her voice was naive, but her worry was real.
She was already struggling, cutting herself to feed blood into the disciple stamps.
Blackie blinked, realizing he had seriously miscalculated.
"Oh..." he muttered.
"I had thought otherwise. Don’t fret, little one. You won’t lose enough blood to cause any real harm. Go on, be brave!"
Woodie pouted but reluctantly accepted.
And so, with that, the House of Pecker’s disciple selection ceremony finally concluded.
Now—
It was ti for the House of Sparrow to take the stage.
"I wonder... more drama coming this ti. They all hate Bubble’s guts—his stoicism, his ego. Let’s see how this unfolds," John muttered under his breath, half amused, half curious.
Yes, all the sparrows hated their little sister Bubble, who was now the reigning alpha.
They feared him.
But they didn’t respect him.
Long before the ceremony, the four leading sparrows had silently agreed:
—they would pick their own disciples,
—they would completely ignore Bubble,
—and they would avoid engaging with him at all costs.
After all, among the birds, the sparrows were the fastest in the air—masters of diving and aerial maneuvers.
They were confident that whatever happened, they could outpace anything.
Just as they prepared to swoop down and pick their disciples from the remaining hundred chard birds—
A sharp chirp split the air, stealing their thunder.
"Bubble Law: Unending Bubbles—Activate!"
Suddenly, multiple watery bubbles materialized out of thin air.
Each of the four sparrows was trapped inside a shimring bubble before they could even react.
And there—hovering above them—was Bubble, already waiting in the air, her eyes brimming with cold arrogance.
"These useless fools think little of ," she chirped dismissively.
"They thought I would let them pick before ? Hmph!"
Without giving the trapped sparrows another glance, she whistled sharply again.
This ti, a hundred bubbles appeared, swallowing up each of the remaining hundred birds on the field.
The chard birds, now trapped inside the bubbles, floated gently under Bubble’s absolute control.
From the sidelines, the other alpha birds watched in shock and awe.
Once again, they were reminded:
Bubble had grown stronger.
She was leaving the rest of them behind, soaring far above their reach.
So birds looked at her with envy.
So gazed at her with burning ambition, setting her as the distant star they vowed to catch up to soday.
But John?
John wasn’t part of that bunch.
After all, the system had already revealed to him the true extent of Bubble’s terrifying growth:
—Gega Mastery of her trait skill.
anwhile, Bubble began to chant softly, and the bubbles containing the birds started to grow.
Then—pop—one after another, bubbles began bursting.
The trapped birds fell to the ground unhard, bewildered.
Nobody could tell what Bubble was trying to do.
Nobody, except John.
He smirked knowingly.
"Interesting... In the mory link I shared with her, I saw it. Once comprehension reaches a high level, a special skill can be ignited to resonate with similar elental traits.
So she’s... testing the birds. Seeing if any of them resonate with her elent.
Maybe she’ll luck out. Maybe she won’t. Let’s see."
Minutes passed.
One by one, bubbles burst.
Until—
only one bubble remained.
This final bubble hovered steadily, refusing to burst or grow any further.
Inside it, a proud-looking peacock sat calmly, seemingly unaffected.
Clearly, he had passed whatever secret test Bubble had conducted.
Bubble turned to John and chirped respectfully,
"Master, I would like to take this one under my tutelage. I will raise him well to fulfill the punishnt you laid upon ."
John chuckled and nodded,
"Good luck with that."
He smiled, pleased with her initiative—and curious to see just how far his strange little disciple would climb.
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