[The two “Chosen Ones” labeled with the number 2 may now enter the arena and begin their match.]
The voice echoed once more across the grand arena, silencing the crowds.
The aftermath of the first match still lingered, Asmon’s humiliating defeat at the hands of the Lich had changed the tone of the tournament entirely.
That one battle had made it clear, this was not some grand performance or trial match for fun.
This was war under divine supervision.
And those who failed would pay the ultimate price.
With the weight of that brutal opening match still fresh in everyone’s minds, the second round began.
Two new figures slowly stepped forward into the arena’s center.
On the left was Nocturne, the Chosen One of Darkness.
His appearance was striking in an understated, cold way.
His shoulder-length white hair swayed gently with every step, contrasting sharply against the pitch-black robe that concealed the rest of his frame.
His eyes, deeper than shadow, held a kind of calm stillness, as though even death itself couldn’t rattle him.
He walked not like a warrior, but like someone walking into inevitability.
On the right was his opponent, Reinhardt, the Chosen One of Swords.
His presence couldn’t have been more different. He radiated life, fire, and strength.
With hair that blazed like open flames and a sharp gaze filled with conviction, Reinhardt already had a shimmering sword summoned and ready in hand.
His armor looked more like a specialized fighting suit than heavy plate, light, flexible, and tailored perfectly to his build.
He carried himself with the poise of a veteran, someone confident in his craft.
“You’re already armed?” Nocturne asked quietly, raising a single brow as the wind whispered past.
Reinhardt’s lips curled into a smile.
“I could summon my sword from my chamber if I wanted, guess the gods are letting me keep it close.”
That simple exchange was light on the surface, but the implications weren’t lost on everyone.
Alex, watching silently from the chambers, narrowed his eyes.
‘He can summon swords even outside of battle?’ he thought, expression sharpening.
That was a detail worth remembering.
Unlike Asmon, who had walked into his fight with arrogance and concealment, both Nocturne and Reinhardt had clearly learned from his mistake.
They didn’t underestimate each other.
Both of them understood what was at stake and approached this battle with full awareness of the danger involved.
But even so, they were cautious, refraining from showing their true hand unless necessary.
And yet… something about Nocturne made Alex feel uneasy.
It wasn’t just the atmosphere around him or his unnatural calm, it was the sword in his hand.
Alex recognized it immediately, the [Sword of Darkness].
The very same blade that had taken his life in a past life.
A cold chill traced his spine.
His gaze locked onto it with grim focus, noticing how the sword seemed to consume light itself, as though absorbing the radiance around it.
Its dark presence wasn’t just for show, it was devouring the world around it, slowly but deliberately.
There was more to that sword than what Nocturne was showing. That much was obvious.
And even more curiously, it was the only weapon he was using.
No skills, no other spells or powers, just that blade.
Reinhardt, on the other hand, displayed everything you’d expect from a master of his title.
With a sharp gesture, he summoned hundreds of swords from thin air.
They floated in perfect formation around him, long swords, curved sabers, glowing rapiers, heavy greatswords, and more.
Each sword pulsed with its own unique energy, suggesting different properties and purposes.
Fire, lightning, poison, weight, Alex could barely keep track of all the possibilities.
It was a majestic and terrifying sight.
Reinhardt switched between them with flawless precision.
One moment, he was wielding a fiery blade, then a heavy broadsword, then a slender dagger, each movement as fluid as a dancer’s.
It looked like victory might already be sealed.
Nocturne barely moved, parrying and dodging with the bare minimum of effort while Reinhardt brought down wave after wave of attacks.
And yet… Nocturne didn’t stumble, didn’t falter.
And just when it seemed Reinhardt had the upper hand, his ultimate sword ready to strike the final blow—
Nocturne’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“The darkness now responds to me,” he said softly, though his eyes burned with sudden intensity.
The ground trembled. A pressure burst outward from his sword.
The once still air exploded into movement, as if the shadows themselves had heard his call.
Black tendrils shot out from the arena floor, dozens of long, ethereal hands made from pure darkness.
They emerged without warning, reaching for Reinhardt, blinding him, disrupting his field of vision.
He reacted instantly, firing a swarm of floating swords into the darkness, cutting down several of the tendrils, but not all.
One of them gripped his ankle.
“What the—?”
Reinhardt’s eyes widened as he raised his sword again, attempting to break free. But it was already too late.
Nocturne appeared before him like a phantom.
One clean stroke, no hesitation.
The [Sword of Darkness] pierced Reinhardt’s throat with surgical precision.
Blood sprayed across the stone, and silence followed.
“Foolish,” Nocturne murmured, not with arrogance, but indifference.
He pulled the sword free and let it vanish in wisps of darkness, the tendrils melting back into the floor like they had never existed.
[Nocturne, Chosen One of Darkness, has won.]
[Reinhardt has died, meaning he betrayed the God of Swords’ trust. The two shall be erased.]
Two columns of light slammed down, engulfing Reinhardt’s remains, and the distant, silent figure of the God of Swords as well.
Within seconds, they were gone.
The fight had lasted barely over two minutes. And just like that, it was over.
The crowd, while shocked, had already begun to expect this rhythm.
Each match ended decisively, and violently.
[The Chosen Ones labeled number 3 may now enter the arena.]
Two more stepped forward.
[Eira, Chosen One of Fate] versus [Revenhart, Chosen One of Nightmares]
This fight was different from the start.
Eira had a calm yet focused demeanor.
Her golden robes glowed faintly with threads of fate, and strange symbols hovered behind her in quiet orbit.
She was clearly tense, but not unprepared.
Revenhart, in contrast, was cloaked in darkness, his assassin-like outfit shrouding his form, a long plague doctor mask hiding his face entirely.
He said nothing. He didn’t need to. The moment the fight began, he moved like a blur.
Eira summoned threads of fate, trying to predict and avoid attacks, but Revenhart didn’t give her the chance to breathe.
He conjured [Nightmare Spears], not thrown in ones or twos, but in showers.
They fell like black rain, stabbing into the ground, walls, and anything that stood in his way.
Eira dodged desperately, countering with radiant strikes of her own, but they were not enough.
Then, Revenhart deflected one of her attacks, caught a nightmare spear embedded in the ground, and hurled it straight into her chest.
“Gah—!” she gasped, looking down at the wound, her voice trembling, “B-But… I can see fate… I should’ve been able to…”
Another spear pierced her skull before she could finish.
[Revenhart, Chosen One of Nightmares, has won.]
[Eira has died, meaning she betrayed the Goddess of Fate. The two shall be erased.]
BOOM. BOOM.
Two beams of judgment. Two more gone.
Revenhart quietly walked to the seats beside his god.
His face never revealed, his power still not fully shown.
Only his spears, his aura, and his precision had done the work. That was all he needed.
Alex made mental notes again.
Revenhart’s powers weren’t what they seemed, he hadn’t summoned true “nightmares” at all.
He’d fought with basic projections.
Which meant, if Alex ever had to fight him, it would be far worse.
[Chosen Ones with number 4, please advance.]
Two more.
[Talia, Chosen One of Elements] versus [Seren, Primordial Chosen One]
Seren was the only one with such a strange title as she was the Chosen One of the [Primordial Goddess], one of the top five gods.
Seren had long blond hair, glowing gold eyes, and wore a black and gold bodysuit with a crimson cloak.
She had scars across her face, arms, and thighs, and wore a black pirate eyepatch over her left eye.
Her presence was cold and dangerous.
On the other hand, Talia seemed slightly nervous, though she didn’t shy away from battle.
She clapped her hands together, and ten spirits began to orbit around her, they were “elements” she would use in battle.
In comparison to all the other, Talia realized that she probably wouldn’t win without using everything she had, especially against this opponent, so she instead decided to use everything.
Each of the ten spirits was linked to one of the elements she could, creating a symphony of chaos.
And yet… even then…
Two minutes passed before Talia was overwhelmed by Seren, and her neck was snapped by her.
Even Alex had a hard time understanding what just happened as Seren… well… she didn’t use any skill.
The only thing surrounding her was her aura, but other than that, no weapon or anything of the sort.
It was almost strange.
Ding!
[Seren, Primordial Chosen One, has won.]
[Talia has died, meaning she betrayed the God of Elements. The two shall be erased.]
BOOM. BOOM.
More beams.
And now… only one battle remained.
Alex stood alone in his waiting chamber.
Then, the announcement came.
[The final fight will now start.]
[Chosen Ones with number 5 may now move inside the arena.]
He took a breath. It was time.