"Look who''s finally back among th'' livin''," Eldrin''s voice called from the side. "Didn''t think ye''d bounce back so quick after going that pale."

    Drogar nodded in agreement. "Aye, good t'' see ye pulled through. That Stonefist brew ain''t fer th'' faint o'' heart. Ye''re more resilient than I''d expect fer a human."

    Zeke smiled at the compliment, but the reaction it provoked was unexpected. Drogar flinched back, his eyes widening. Zeke stared at him, puzzled, and even Drogar seemed unsure why he''d reacted that way.

    "Didn''t notice it before," Drogar said, his tone somewhere between humor and unease, "but yer smile''s got a wicked edge t'' it—like ye''re thinkin'' o'' takin'' a bite outta me." The words were meant as a joke, but the faint tremor in the Dwarf''s voice revealed his lingering discomfort.

    Zeke instinctively closed his mouth, hiding his incisors. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to the subtle sharpness of his newly transformed teeth. But he suspected there was more to it than just the physical changes. Though he couldn''t sense it himself, he was almost certain a hint of his draconic aura was leaking out—his amulet no longer able to suppress it entirely.

    Something else to address—soon.

    "Never tried dwarf before," Zeke quipped, injecting a playful tone into his voice. "But you don''t look too appetizing—too much muscle, not enough fat."

    "Damned right!" Drogar shot back, flexing his massive arms with a grin. His usual confidence returned, and the momentary fear seemed to evaporate.

    "Contestants, brace yerselves fer th'' next round," the announcer''s voice boomed, cutting through the scene. "Next up is th'' Alewin family wi'' their new Coldfist brew!"

    The announcement diverted the dwarves'' attention, sparing Zeke from any further scrutiny.

    Before long, another vial was brought out. This one was a striking blue, its contents swirling with an ominous, almost hypnotic pattern. The moment Zeke uncorked it, an unnatural chill seeped into his body, ignoring the barrier of his clothing entirely.

    The contestants were allotted another hour, marked by the turning of the massive sand timer.

    Zeke eyed the vial cautiously. After his earlier experiences with dwarven brews, he wasn''t about to dive in recklessly. He took a small sip first, testing its effects. Almost immediately, a lazy, mischievous grin spread across his face.

    Under the disbelieving stares of Drogar and Eldrin, Zeke tilted his head back and downed the rest of the vial in a single gulp.

    The two dwarves stared at him as if they expected his head to explode at any moment. Instead, Zeke smacked his lips in satisfaction and let out a contented burp.

    "Not bad," Zeke remarked with a smirk. "This stuff''s got a pleasantly mild taste."

    The dwarves'' eyes widened in disbelief, nearly bulging from their sockets. They were stunned by the effortless composure with which Zeke had mastered the second challenge. After his struggles in the first round, they must have unconsciously begun to underestimate him. That was a perception Zeke couldn''t allow to linger. He wasn''t just here to participate; he was here to leave a lasting impression. And judging by the murmurs around their section, plenty of spectators were taking notice.

    This was the perfect moment to stage his comeback.

    Zeke had a good idea of what the Coldfist brew was intended to do—it likely enhanced one''s resistance to cold. But who was Zeke? Having once sipped on the diluted venom of a Progenitor beast, there was little he could gain from whatever formula the Alewin family had concocted. By comparison, their brew, while well-crafted, felt like a refreshing drink rather than a challenge. It was mild—almost pleasant—next to the grueling poisons he had used to temper his body in the past.

    Trusting Khai''Zar''s words, Zeke decided to replicate his previous action, slamming the brew back like a glass of hot milk on a cold winter day. His bold move once again drew the attention of the crowd.

    Many had been watching with eager anticipation, clearly hoping for him to repeat his impressive performance. But now that he had gone through with it, most seemed genuinely surprised by his daring display. They hadn''t expected him to actually follow through.

    Zeke felt the liquid slide down his throat, leaving behind a faint heat, similar to the burn of a particularly spicy dish. As it reached his stomach, the warmth quickly spread throughout his entire body, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. The heat was all-encompassing, yet instead of feeling overwhelmed by it, Zeke found it surprisingly pleasant.

    Though his mind logically understood that the sensation should be uncomfortable, he couldn''t help but enjoy it. It was like pulling his favorite cozy blanket over himself and settling into a warm bed—a feeling of comfort and relaxation.

    Zeke was baffled. He was certain that his body had never reacted to heat this way. This ahd to be one of the changes from his recent evolution.

    Without realizing it, he smiled in contentment. The attendant, who had been watching him cautiously, sighed, already resigned to his fate. Zeke didn''t make him wait long. After savoring the warmth for a moment, he eagerly asked for another dose.

    The Hopsgrin family immediately refused Zeke''s request, clearly wary of a repeat performance from the previous round.

    This time, Zeke was genuinely disappointed. Unlike in the last round, he actually stood to benefit from this brew, since his heat resistance wasn''t as developed. Yet, there was nothing he could do but blame his past self for showing off too much.

    With nothing else to do, Zeke settled in for another long wait, boredom creeping in. But his attention was soon caught by the first contestant dropping out. The dwarf had clearly overestimated himself, taking a large gulp of the brew, possibly hoping to mimic Zeke. However, the result wasn''t pretty—he began to sweat and groan in pain.

    Zeke watched as the unfortunate dwarf collapsed from his seat. It wasn''t uncommon to see contestants fall, but his attention wasn''t focused on the fallen dwarf. His gaze was fixed on the vial that had tumbled to the floor beside him. After a moment''s thought, Zeke decided to take a small risk.

    With a quick activation of his Magic, Zeke surrounded the vial with a thin layer of Spatial Mana, teleporting it into the sleeve of his robe. His body tensed as he waited for someone to call him out on the act. But despite the long pause, no one said anything.

    Zeke let out a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn''t exactly expected to go unnoticed, but it was clear that those powerful enough to detect his actions didn''t care. After all, it was unlikely the already-opened vials would be of any use. In fact, thinking about it that way, Zeke figured he might even be doing the organizers a favor.

    At least, that was how he chose to think about it.

    For the rest of the hour, Zeke kept an eye out for any contestants dropping out. By the end, he had managed to collect six vials—more than enough to improve his Fire resistance.

    A smile tugged at his lips as he considered it. This competition had turned out to be surprisingly beneficial, even without factoring in his main goal. He definitely hadn''t lost anything by coming here.

    "...An'' here we have it, th'' contestants who''ve made it t'' th'' final. Give ''em a round o'' applause, everyone!"

    Zeke was momentarily startled by the announcer''s voice. He had somehow forgotten they were already in the final round. Looking around, he saw only sixteen of the original one hundred still standing. Drogar and Eldrin were among them, but they looked far worse for wear. Compared to Zeke''s relaxed state, the two dwarfs seemed downright bedraggled.

    "All o'' these sixteen are already quite impressive, truly th'' pride o'' our dwarfen kind..." his gaze went to Zeke, and he awkwardly added, "An'' human kind, I s''pose." However, his voice regained its spirit in the next moment. "However, as always, there can be only one champion. In this final round, th'' contestants''ll keep drinkin'' till only one o'' ''em can still stand. Are ye all prepared fer this final showdown?"

    The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer as the attendants emerged once more, carrying the final brew. Even Varek had called this one a wildcard, and Zeke believed him. Just looking at the swirling purple concoction sent a shiver down his spine. Whatever the Maltforge family had created, it was clear that this would be unlike anything from the previous rounds.