Those who bore witness could do nothing but stand idly by, helpless and paralyzed.
They watched as their child perished before their very eyes, their hearts breaking with every passing mont.
Yet, despite their anguish, they dared not intervene.
For though action was within their grasp, the cost of such defiance was far too great, a price that would strip them of everything they held dear.
The family mbers of Aurelia, Rylis, Thrain, and Serenelle stood in silence, sorrow coursing through their veins like a relentless tide.
For a fleeting mont, killing intent flickered in their eyes, a dangerous glimr of their suppressed rage.
But even that brief instant did not escape notice.
The parents of the victors imdiately radiated a suffocating aura, a clear and deadly warning.
The parents of the fallen, though brimming with grief and fury, dared not act.
Not in the presence of the Patriarch and the clan leaders, whose authority was absolute.
They knew death would claim them before they could so much as blink.
And so, they clenched their jaws, forcing themselves to endure the bitter reality.
The result shattered any illusions of winning they might have clung to, leaving only despair in its wake.
Elara Bloodmoon, Queen of the Vampire race, could only release a quiet, internal sigh as she watched her own champion fall.
From the mont Anthony began his seemingly asured defense, Elara knew Aurelia had no chance.
Anthony's words echoed in her mind, they rang true.
Had Aurelia faced anyone else, she might have been among the victorious.
What baffled Elara, however, was how Anthony had discerned he was facing Aurelia's clone.
He had fought as though unaware, as though genuinely engaged, never once revealing his advantage.
Even Elara had silently comnded Aurelia's strategy, wearing Anthony down by forcing him to expend his mana and stamina.
But that plan had unraveled disastrously.
When the real Aurelia finally erged, her first decisive strike ended in catastrophe, her arm severed before she could even begin.
The other mbers of the Phoenix clan mourned their fallen champion in a solemn silence, their sorrow palpable yet restrained.
Serenelle's mother, however, sat still and emotionless, her deanor cold and detached, as though she'd rely lost another pawn in a calculated ga of chess.
The weight of countless gazes bore down upon her, probing for even a flicker of grief, but she offered none.
She felt their scrutiny, their judgnt, but dismissed it with indifference.
In her eyes, she owed no one an explanation, empathy was not her obligation.
Michael, Collins, Mitchelle, and Irene watched their bloodline with a profound sense of pride, their emotions etched in different ways.
Michael, no longer cloaked in the stoic veneer of the Sword Saint, bore a grin wider than anyone in the audience as he witnessed Anthony strike down Aurelia.
"He truly is my son, my baby monster"
Michael thought, his chest swelling with unrestrained pride as he watched his son sheath his katana with precision and grace.
Collins, in contrast, remained outwardly impassive, his expression as unreadable as ever.
But the faint ripple of his aura betrayed his elation, silently roaring louder than words ever could.
Mitchelle's reaction was more serene, a sweet, motherly smile of satisfaction graced her lips as she observed her son.
"If this continues, perhaps I won't have to intervene after all"
She mused, her presence calm yet commanding from afar.
Yet, in the midst of her quiet reverie, Mitchelle's expression abruptly shifted.
She felt it, a sharp, hostile killing intent directed at Anthony.
Her warm smile vanished, replaced by an icy, unforgiving gaze.
The source was unmistakable: Alala, Aurelia's mother.
Mitchelle's cold stare locked onto Alala, piercing through the air like a dagger.
Alala t her gaze, her defiance unshaken, even as the sparks of their clashing presences crackled invisibly.
Mitchelle's warning was clear in her gaze, but Alala didn't withdraw her intent.
Instead, she challenged it, her determination unwavering.
Then, without warning, the very fabric of space froze.
The audience, the plane, and even the air itself beca suspended in an unyielding stillness, paralyzed by Mitchelle's overwhelming power.
Before anyone could comprehend what had happened, Mitchelle was standing directly in front of Alala, her hand darting toward her adversary's throat with a speed too swift for mortal perception.
But just as her fingertips hovered re inches from Alala's neck, another presence intervened.
Elara Bloodmoon, Queen of the Vampire race, appeared out of thin air.
With elegance and precision, she caught Mitchelle's wrist, halting the strike at the very last mont.
The tension hung in the air like a blade, teetering on the edge of chaos as three of the most powerful beings in the realm stood locked in confrontation.
"What is the aning of this?"
Elara's cold, commanding voice echoed through the plane, thick with unyielding authority.
Michael and Collins remained still, their expressions unmoved as they watched the unfolding tension.
They knew Mitchelle could handle herself.
However, their readiness for battle was not hidden.
If the Vampire Queen wanted to escalate, they were more than prepared to end this bloodbath with her head as the price.
Mitchelle's icy gaze didn't falter.
"I should be the one asking that"
She retorted, her voice razor-sharp.
"How dare she direct her killing intent at my son? And who said we couldn't attack one another here?"
Her presence grew heavier, suffused with a simring rage.
It was a massacre waiting to be unleashed.
For Mitchelle, this wasn't just about the mont.
Her anger had been brewing:
First, the demon attack on Anthony.
Second, her son's participation in this bloodbath event.
And now, soone had the audacity to threaten his life in her very presence.
Alala, bound by Mitchelle's control over space, could do nothing but watch in humiliation.
She couldn't even muster the strength to free herself.
Without Elara's intervention, she'd have been forced to use her life saving card,a desperate asure that would only expose her weakness to the many powerful eyes watching.
The air felt electric as the entire audience held their breath, their gazes locked on the confrontation.
So hoped this would spiral into an all out battle.
Elara's crimson eyes bore into Mitchelle's before flicking toward Michael and Collins.
"Aren't you going to say anything about this, Sword Saint? Lightning God?"
Elara asked, her grip still firm on Mitchelle's wrist.
Michael's grin widened, his confidence unshaken.
"Isn't it common sense that before you openly think about killing soone, you should possess the strength to do so first?"
His voice carried a taunt, as though daring Elara to make a move.
"Are you ready to fight us?"
Elara's tone shifted as bloodlust began leaking from her, her aura swelling in challenge.
Michael's grin grew sharper, but Collins was the one who cut through the tension.
"No need to twist my son's words"
Collins said, his calm yet deadly voice slicing through the rising storm.
"We're not starting anything. But if anyone thinks we're easy to bully, they're welco to try. This will be the last ti I let sothing like this slide. The next ti I feel killing intent directed at Anthony, I will personally make a move. Consider this my first and final warning"
Collins' aura remained steady, but his words reverberated like a blade drawn from its sheath.
A tense silence stretched across the arena as Elara's bloodlust began to dissipate.
Slowly, the atmosphere softened as the Vampire Queen released Mitchelle's wrist.
Without another word, she vanished and reappeared in her previous position, reclaiming her dignity.
Mitchelle cast a final, icy glance at Alala before also disappearing, releasing the spatial lock on her adversary.
Alala, now freed, seethed in silent rage.
The humiliation burned, especially since it was inflicted by a human.
'A re human'
She thought, her anger boiling.
But she swallowed her fury, knowing she could do nothing in the face of such overwhelming power.
The focus of the crowd gradually shifted back to the champions, eager for the match to resu.
However, a strange sight awaited them.
While the other champions sat cross-legged in the lotus position, diligently recovering their mana and healing their injuries, Anthony had turned the bloodbath into a vacation.
Under the shade of a summoned parasol, he lounged in a comfortable chair, casually eating fruit as though he were on a beach.
The collective gaze of the audience shifted to the human side, riddled with questions.
Michael's grin faltered slightly as he watched his son's antics.
Collins' lips twitched in barely suppressed irritation.
'Can't he read the room?'
The fruits Anthony consud bore no trace of mana enhancent, adhering strictly to the rules.
As such, no one found grounds to challenge his behavior, though many regarded him with a mixture of confusion and silent judgnt.
On the other side, Gorath, the Titan, watched the scene with intrigue, his thoughts swirling.
'If I show killing intent toward Anthony, would all three of them fight
at once? It seems dangerous... but it would also be fun'
The tension lingered, thick with anticipation, as the champions prepared for the next phase of the bloodbath.
Reviews
All reviews (0)