Every eye in the settlent was glued to the screens as Jeren continued his explanation. The casual cruelty in his voice, the mock sympathy, the absolute control he wielded. It all painted a picture far bleaker than anyone had imagined.
Akhil’s mind raced, trying to formulate a strategy. They’d divided into groups, planned their approach, prepared for coordinated attacks across multiple arenas. But now, watching Jeren casually teleport one hundred people with a thought, all those plans felt aningless.
’He can call anyone at any ti,’ Akhil realized, his jaw tightening. ’Location doesn’t matter. Groups don’t matter. He picks who fights when, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.’
"Oh, I can see so of you worrying about strategy," Jeren’s voice cut through Akhil’s thoughts, as if the Titan had read his mind. "Wondering how to coordinate when I can simply... relocate you at will."
His smile widened behind the mask.
"Well, don’t worry yourselves too much. Participants will be picked at random!" He spread his arms in a magnanimous gesture. "Everyone has an equal chance to be called! Fair, isn’t it? Democratic, even. So everyone should be ready at all tis, because you never know when your number might co up."
He leaned forward conspiratorially, his eyes gleaming with dark amusent.
"Isn’t that lovely?"
Around Akhil, he could feel the frustration radiating from his group. Hands tightened on weapons. Jaws clenched. Soone behind him let out a low growl of anger.
But Jeren didn’t care. If anything, their irritation seed to please him more.
"So then," the Titan clapped his hands together, "let’s begin! Have a look at our first set of participants!"
The cara view shifted, zooming in on various fighters scattered throughout the massive arena. Each one stood in their own designated space, circular platforms marked with glowing runes, separated by thirty feet of open ground.
Akhil watched as the participants looked around in confusion, so calling out to others, asking what was happening, where they were, how they’d gotten there. The fear and uncertainty was palpable even through the screen.
’There’s nothing I can do for them,’ Akhil thought grimly. ’I can only watch. Observe. Learn what I can about how this works, about what we’re facing.’
He forced himself to focus, to analyze rather than despair. Every detail could matter. Every piece of information might an the difference between life and death when his own number was called.
His eyes scanned the faces of the participants, cataloging what he could see. So wore decent armor, carried quality weapons—probably adventurers who’d been preparing like his own group. Others looked less prepared, wearing simple clothes, wielding basic blades.
Then his gaze fell on one particular figure, and despite the grim situation, he felt a flicker of... sothing. Not quite amusent, but recognition.
Seth stood on one of the platforms, and unlike the others who looked confused or terrified, he just looked pissed.
"Why do you just have to drag straight into all this ss?!" Seth’s voice carried clearly, captured by whatever magical audio system Jeren had set up. His hands moved to his long hair, pulling it back and tying it into a tight ponytail with practiced efficiency.
"Motherfucker just had to piss off," Seth muttered, and as he finished securing his hair, his eyes began to glow with a faint blue light.
The change in his deanor was imdiate. The irritation remained, but it was focused now, sharpened into sothing dangerous. His gaze locked onto the space in front of his platform, where shadows were beginning to gather.
Akhil’s attention shifted to another familiar face, and this ti he did let out a quiet laugh—one that carried no humor, just acknowledgnt of irony.
Ryan stood on a platform near the arena’s center, and while everyone around him was shouting or panicking or desperately trying to understand what was happening, Ryan just... stood there. Arms crossed over his chest, posture relaxed, face completely calm.
He looked bored. Like he was waiting in line at a shop rather than facing potential death in a divine tournant.
’Of course those two ended up in the first batch,’ Akhil thought, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. ’Jeren picked two catastrophes to start his show.’
Despite the situation, despite the very real danger his friends were in, Akhil found himself looking forward to seeing how these matches would unfold. If nothing else, Seth and Ryan would give the gods sothing to rember.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Across all one hundred platforms, the shadows that had been gathering suddenly solidified. From each dark pool, a figure rose—humanoid, dressed in fitted ninja-like garnts that covered them from neck to toe. Their faces were half-concealed by masks, only their eyes visible—cold, emotionless, professional.
Each ninja carried a weapon. So had katanas, others kusarigama, a few wielded spiked batons or twin daggers. They stood with the casual confidence of trained killers, facing the confused and frightened participants with complete indifference.
"BEGIN!" Jeren’s voice rang out, amplified across the entire arena.
The effect was imdiate. In the divine realm, gods leaned forward eagerly. On the screens throughout the settlent, thousands watched with bated breath. And in the arena itself, one hundred matches started simultaneously.
Akhil’s eyes imdiately found Seth’s platform.
The ninja facing Seth held a long katana, the blade already drawn and gleaming. He assessed Seth quickly, no visible weapon, wearing just reinforced gauntlets, bouncing slightly on his feet like a boxer warming up.
Easy prey.
The ninja moved first, blade flashing in a precise strike aid at Seth’s throat. Fast, professional, ant to end the fight before it truly began.
Seth’s head tilted slightly. Not much...just a few inches. The blade passed so close it should have at least nicked his skin, but it found only air.
The ninja’s eyes narrowed. He pivoted, changing angles, coming in with a diagonal slash that should have been impossible to predict.
Seth leaned back, the blade missing by a hair’s breadth.
’He’s not guessing,’ Akhil realized, watching intently. ’He knows where the attacks are coming before they happen.’
Seth had the ability, Fore Perception. It let him read his opponent’s intentions, see the attack paths before the strikes were even launched. Combined with his martial arts training, it made him extraordinarily difficult to hit.
The ninja attacked again, faster now. A flurry of strikes. Horizontal, vertical, diagonal, feints mixed with real attacks designed to overwhelm and confuse.
Seth wove through them all. His movents were minimal, efficient, each dodge calculated to waste as little energy as possible. And he was smiling now... not with joy, but with the focused intensity of a fighter in his elent.
Then he stopped dodging and the blue flicker in his eyes sharpened.
It was ti for offensive.
The ninja ca in with another slash. Seth stepped inside the weapon’s range, too close for the blade to be effective. His left gauntlet ca up, deflecting the ninja’s wrist. His right fist shot forward in a textbook straight punch that caught the ninja square in the solar plexus.
The impact sounded like a hamr hitting at. The ninja’s eyes went wide behind his mask, air exploding from his lungs.
But Seth didn’t give him ti to recover. He was already moving, circling to the ninja’s right, hands up in a boxer’s guard. The ninja tried to bring his sword around, but Seth ducked under it, ca up inside, and delivered a devastating hook to the ribs.
Crack.
Sothing broke. The ninja stumbled backward, trying to create space, to bring his weapon to bear.
Seth didn’t let him. He pressed forward relentlessly, mixing boxing combinations with martial arts techniques. A jab to the face to keep the ninja’s guard high. A body blow that doubled him over. A knee strike to the descending face that snapped the ninja’s head back.
The katana ca in desperately...wild now, technique abandoned for pure survival instinct. Seth read the trajectory, sidestepped, and grabbed the ninja’s wrist with both hands.
What followed was a textbook disarm. Seth twisted the wrist at an angle that made the ninja’s grip falter. His knee ca up into the elbow joint, not quite breaking it but causing enough pain that the fingers spasd open. The katana clattered to the ground.
The ninja tried to adapt, going for a grapple, but Seth had already transitioned. He pivoted on his heel, using the ninja’s montum against him, and threw him to the ground with a hip toss that would have made any judo instructor proud.
Before the ninja could rise, Seth was on him. A ground-and-pound assault...controlled, asured strikes that accumulated damage without rcy. The ninja tried to defend, tried to escape, but Seth’s fore perception ant he could read every attempt before it happened, shutting down options before they could be executed.
The match ended with Seth pinning the ninja’s arm behind his back at an angle that promised a broken shoulder if the ninja moved. With his free hand, Seth delivered a hamr fist to the back of the ninja’s head.
The ninja went limp.
The entire fight had lasted less than ten minutes.
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