The first fight of the [Chosen Round] was already shaping up to be a brutal one.
Even before the battle had begun.
On paper alone, it was enough to make anyone watching tense up.
Two of the top five gods had thrown their chosen ones into this match, and that alone made the stakes impossibly high.
Both the [God of Death] and the [God of Hatred] had placed everything on the line, because in this round, failure didn’t just mean personal defeat.
It meant death for both the Chosen One and their god.
Total erasure.
And worse still, this was all happening under the full gaze of their enemies.
Each Chosen One wasn’t just fighting to win, they were also being watched by every remaining god and every other Chosen One waiting their turn.
An audience of rivals, enemies, and threats.
Everyone could see, everyone was analyzing.
This was the true trial.
A high-stakes battle where exposing too much could doom you in the next round, even if you won.
That’s what made it terrifying.
And yet, despite knowing all this, Alex did what he had to, he watched.
He remained seated in his isolated chamber, his eyes locked onto the screen as the two figures stepped onto the arena stage, the massive circular battlefield fully illuminated now under a blinding light that poured down from above.
The screen gave a perfect view of the confrontation, showing the battlefield from multiple angles.
One of the figures was all too familiar.
Lich, The Chosen One of Death.
One of the worst calamities Alex had ever known in his past life.
A monster who had killed hundreds of millions, single-handedly.
He had been death incarnate, and now, that same monster was here, alive and fighting in this twisted game.
Alex’s expression remained calm, almost detached.
But deep within, something churned.
He had never been this close to Lich before, not in his last life.
Not until now. And he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.
He would kill him when the time was right.
That much, he was sure of.
Across from Lich stood Asmon, the Chosen One of Hatred, a towering figure cloaked in an aura of violent crimson energy.
His entire body radiated aggression, his armor lined with sharp spikes and jagged lines that pulsed with pure rage.
Two large horns curled from his head, matching the intensity in his blood-red eyes.
He wasn’t here to hold back, he looked like a force meant to crush, to maim, to annihilate.
It didn’t take long before the silence was broken.
“Hey,” Lich was the first to speak, his voice calm, casual, even friendly, “As you see, we’re being observed by everyone else, meaning that whatever we do will be remembered.”
He raised a hand to his pale face, hiding a chuckle.
“How about we only use one skill each?”
Asmon’s eyes flared.
“I’m not falling for that trick,” he growled, his voice thick with disgust.
His breath fumed like smoke, flames licking at the corners of his mouth.
“I already know how dangerous you are.”
Lich’s response was a small, indifferent shrug.
“Then so be it,” he replied, unfazed, “I’ll still only be using one skill though.”
Without any warning, Lich lifted his scepter high into the air.
Immediately, the entire arena trembled.
Dark purple energy surged outward from the tip of the scepter, rapidly spreading in all directions.
The ground cracked, the air distorted, and even the screen shook for a brief moment as the aura pulsed with raw death.
Shadows rippled around him like living tendrils, and from within that swirling fog of darkness, something began to emerge.
“ARISE, GRIM REAPER.”
His voice boomed with eerie clarity.
And as if answering the call, the air itself split open above the arena.
A giant figure, easily towering over the entire battlefield, began to form from pure darkness.
Its skeletal body was cloaked in tattered shadows, and it carried a scythe that looked like it could cleave mountains in half.
The [Grim Reaper] had arrived.
Asmon’s only reaction was to let his fury explode.
“You think that’s gonna scare me?!”
His rage amplified, crimson veins now bursting visibly beneath his skin.
He slammed his fists together and summoned his weapon, massive gauntlets made of solid, glowing hatred.
“GAUNTLETS OF HATRED!”
They attached to his hands with a massive clang, surging with violent energy.
At the same time, his body activated a secondary skill, [Hatred Moves], a technique that greatly enhanced his speed, strength, and reflexes the more hatred he felt.
“TIME TO DIE, GOD OF DEATH!”
He bolted forward.
A crimson blur aimed straight for Lich’s heart.
Alex leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing.
He already had a guess about who would win, but this wasn’t just about outcome.
It was about information.
Lich remained calm. He didn’t move.
He simply pointed forward with his scepter, his voice still light and eerily amused.
“Kill.”
The [Grim Reaper] above obeyed instantly.
Asmon didn’t slow.
He roared even louder, his gauntlets raised, hatred crackling like thunder.
And then, BAM!
Lich moved.
His scepter intercepted the blow with frightening precision, parrying the strike and using the momentum to spin away, distancing himself in a single smooth motion.
Alex’s eyes widened slightly.
That wasn’t just a block, that was mastery.
“The goal of this trial is to kill without revealing too much,” Lich said, spinning the scepter in one hand, “But as the fight drags on, well, it becomes more obvious that holding back too much is just another way to lose.”
“Shut the FUCK up!” Asmon screamed, hatred pouring from every part of him, “I’ll crush you and your damn skeleton!”
“Oh well,” Lich sighed, his smile thin and sharp, “Let me give you a lesson then, on why caution isn’t always smart.”
The [Grim Reaper] struck.
One clean sweep. The massive scythe glided through the air like death itself.
Asmon tried to dodge.
He raised both gauntlets, crouched low, and braced for impact.
But it didn’t matter.
The blade didn’t even slice him, it grazed him. And the moment it did, he stopped moving.
Instantly. His body froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came.
And then, he collapsed. Limp. Dead.
“What…?”
“Hm.”
“No way.”
The audience, both inside the arena and those outside looking on their screens, broke into shocked whispers, gasps, and swears.
Even the gods who were confident before now looked rattled.
Alex didn’t say a word. But his mind raced.
That was no ordinary summon. That thing, whatever it was, killed with a touch.
“You should’ve used your strongest attack,” Lich called out mockingly as he turned his back, “Too bad.”
Ding!
[Lich, The Chosen One of Death, has won.]
[Asmon has died, meaning he betrayed the God of Hatred’s trust.]
“No… WAIT!” a deep voice cried out.
The God of Hatred himself stood from his distant seat, fury blazing in his red eyes.
He smashed a fist into the divine barrier separating the gods, trying to get out, only for the force to bounce back, slamming him into the ground.
[There is no escape. Goodbye.]
A second later, a beam of pure white light shot down from above.
Fwish! BAM!
In an instant, the God of Hatred was erased, disintegrated completely.
Not even ash remained. Only a thin trail of smoke.
And as the beam vanished, so too did Asmon’s body from the arena floor, vanishing as if he had never existed.
Just like that, both were gone.
One fight. Two deaths.
And the [Chosen Round] had officially proven itself to be fatal.
Alex didn’t move, but his thoughts sharpened like a blade.
‘Grim Reaper… so you can’t even let it touch you.’
It wasn’t just a summon. It was a death sentence.
Lich had shown an ability that might’ve been his most powerful one.
And yet, by doing so, he’d only revealed a single card in his hand. No doubt he had plenty more left.
Maybe that was the strategy. Reveal one thing. Win. Hide everything else.
And now, every other Chosen One would be extra cautious.
Lich didn’t even return to his original holding room.
Instead, the moment the match ended, he was transported to the divine bleachers, where the [God of Death] awaited.
Alex couldn’t fully see the god from this angle, but the body language said enough.
There wasn’t a single movement of acknowledgment.
As if this result was expected from the very start.
That alone was enough to set off warning bells in Alex’s head.
They were confident. Too confident.
Maybe more than even the [God of Darkness].
Before he could dwell on that thought, another alert echoed through the arena.
Ding!
[The two “Chosen Ones” labeled with the number 2 may now enter the arena and begin their match.]
He heard a door creak open.
Another Chosen One stepped into the hallway, heading toward the arena.
This one looked more nervous, more human than Lich had.
Still, Alex didn’t look away from the screen.
He had already learned one important thing.
And now he wanted to see more.