"Him alive is better than dead, right? I can use his live brain data to study how they use their spatial abilities—it might even help accelerate my plans if things go as intended," Aron said as he stood over the fainting Trinarian fighter.
{True, having him alive presents opportunities. But dead n cause no problems, while the living carry infinite potential for chaos—especially one like him. If our spatial lockdown isn’t enough to fully contain his abilities, he could use them long enough to cause catastrophic damage, even if it ans enduring the backlash,} Nova replied, her tone laced with caution. She wanted to ensure Aron was fully aware of the risks he was inviting by sparing the fighter's life.
Usually, Nova would have been in favor of keeping him alive—it ant more data for her to process, analyze, and extrapolate from. But spatial ability users were in a league of their own when it ca to danger. Even a dead one would yield enough data to at least satisfy her curiosity for a ti. The risk, however, was imnse. A user with advanced spatial manipulation could bypass nearly any lock, shield, or barrier. Worse, they could create a portal inside soone’s body to kill them instantly. The only reason the Trinarian fighter hadn't done so earlier was due to a lack of precise absolute coordinates for the Colosseum. This had forced him into guesswork, resulting in a portal close to Aron but not in his body—a dangerous oversight on the fighter’s part.
“We can inject so nanomachines beforehand as a counterasure in case he turns uncontrollable and deal with him the mont he shows signs of doing so,” Aron suggested, his voice calm and asured. “Also, we can keep him far away from the solar system, ensuring he won’t have the range to hop to Earth imdiately if he decides to cause chaos. Keeping him alive allows us to conduct experints and testing that we can’t do with a dead subject.”
{I understand, but you should also realize that he is one of the few individuals capable of killing you, even with your shield. Keeping soone like that close is an unnecessary risk,} Nova responded, revealing the source of her concern. This was the first ti that the instinct embedded within her core programming—to protect Aron—was fully engaged. In the past, Aron had always maintained his shield, or had it ready to activate at a mont's notice. Nova, too, could activate it herself if she detected any imdiate danger, ensuring his safety. But now, with an individual capable of breaching that defense, her directives beca more complex. The seed code had begun to reconsider its stance, adding weight to her concerns whenever she took action.
“To ta a lion, you must enter the cage,” Aron replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was amusent in his tone as he realized the source of her worry. The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. It was rare for Nova to sound so protective, and the thought was almost amusing. But at the sa ti, it helped him cent his decision to keep the Trinarian alive. Alive, he could study him further, use him as leverage, and possibly prevent becoming dependent on the Trinarian should his future plan include needing help from them by using him as the one to do what he would have needed the Trinairan's aid.
Without hesitation, Aron cut another piece from his trousers, encasing it in a shield bubble and sending it toward the Trinarian. He wasn’t about to get any closer to the fighter without a counterasure in place, no matter how unconscious the Trinarian appeared.
As the shield bubble arrived at the fighter, Aron deactivated it, allowing the fabric to fall gently over the Trinarian’s body. Imdiately, the nanomachines embedded within the fabric began their work, burrowing into the fighter’s body and traveling toward his head, where they would begin their data-gathering and monitoring process.
“It would have been nice if I could have just sent you out of the shield, but the referee AI will not allow that to happen during the fight, so please bear with it,” Aron said in his mind. Although Nova had intended to use that as a last resort ans of surrendering should verbal surrender fail, she was planning to achieve it by blasting through the shield —nothing that could be resolved simply by asking the AI referee to open it for her. The rules only allowed for that if soone could find a way to exit the shield, much like the Trinarian’s attempt to send him out through portals. That was a valid strategy within the confines of the rules, unlike the option to simply leave on request.
With that apology voiced, Aron moved swiftly. He materialized a shield in the form of a sword, its edges honed to a razor's sharpness capable of cutting through anything. Without hesitation, he approached the unconscious Trinarian, slicing off the head cleanly. Imdiately after, he encased both the decapitated head and the body within a protective shield, pumping healing runes into them to prevent death and to maintain the integrity of the body for potential reconnection later. The Trinarian’s life was suspended in this state—alive, but preserved—awaiting whatever would co next.
{Match over. Winner: Terran Empire, Aron Michael,} The AI referee's announcent echoed, marking the conclusion of the intense match.
"I missed this sound," Aron murmured with a smile, as the familiar voice of the AI referee brought him back to reality. It had been a long ti since he had heard those words, especially after the unknown ti he spent in that strange place the system had sent him to.
The viewers from the Terran Empire were a mix of relief and celebration. Many could be heard thanking God for answering their prayers, their voices filled with gratitude. Yet, there were a handful of dissenters, those who finally realised what they had promised god in return for saving the emperor. So of them swore to go back on their promises to God, regretting their words in the heat of the mont. The empire's unity was briefly shaken, but the overall atmosphere remained one of triumph.
In stark contrast, the viewers from the Astral Conclave were left in a state of complete shock and disbelief. The reaction from their ranks was chaotic, particularly among those races that had hair—so were practically pulling it out in frustration. For those whose species lacked hair, the situation was no less dramatic; instead, they resorted to gnashing their teeth, or using whatever natural appendage or trait they had to express their dismay. They had been certain that Aron’s apparent damage would be his downfall. But when they saw him not only survive the impossible but recover fully as if nothing had ever happened, the collective astonishnt among the Conclave was palpable.
This was no longer just a losing streak; the creature they were facing had beco sothing far more terrifying. Capable of returning from death given enough ti, he made an unimaginable coback, further amplifying his fearso reputation. With each display of recovery from increasingly difficult positions, his invincible image grew, centing him as the most terrifying figure they could face. To make matters worse, he was the leader of his civilization, wielding diplomatic power that no ordinary individual could match. This elevated him beyond just a military threat—he was now a political force too, making any attempt on his life a dangerous gamble that could spark far-reaching consequences.
They had already experienced sothing similar with the Xor'Vak civilization, and nothing positive could be said about dealing with them when they wanted sothing. Though they often presented themselves diplomatically, it was like a teacher asking to borrow your pen—you didn't really have a choice but to give it, no matter your reservations.
With his recovery, Aron had solidified his position within that group, which now included his civilization, making it a two-mber group regardless of the outco of his next fight with the other mber of the group, the Xor’Vak.
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