Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 348: The Final Outcome!

The moment the light flared, the spectators outside finally caught a glimpse of the actual battle within the mist—though not in the way they had expected.

"What the hell, I can’t see a damn thing!" 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"So that’s Silvanus chasing Thomas, right?"

"Are you crazy? Don’t delude yourself!"

The crowd grew noisy and restless.

Just then, a thunderous boom resounded, shaking the entire Crucible Hall as if the ground itself had been struck by an overwhelming force!

At the same time, a fierce gust of wind surged up from the center of the arena like a massive tornado, instantly sweeping away the fog before slamming down with explosive force. The shockwave rippled outward, causing the protective barrier surrounding the stage to tremble and emit a deep humming sound.

And at the center of the arena, a vast crater had formed. Smoke rose from the scorched earth, and faint arcs of lightning still crackled around Thomas’s body.

That’s right—Thomas was the one who had fallen!

His body was riddled with holes from radiant arrows that had pierced through him, blood continuously flowing out and soaking the ground beneath. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his appearance utterly disheveled—gone was any trace of his former arrogance.

The stands erupted in an uproar. Nicole doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach. "Ha ha ha! He really lost! Can you believe it? A second-year student was actually defeated by a first-year student who hadn’t even been here for a week! My god. Walther, doesn’t that noble bloodline of yours feel a little... tainted?"

Walther’s face darkened as he shot her a cold glare. "Shut up."

But Nicole only laughed harder, looking like she was enjoying every bit of the chaos.

The crowd buzzed with excitement. Nana, too, stared down at the stage in surprise—but unlike the others, she wasn’t swept up in the hysteria. Quickly piecing things together, she sneered. "An arrogant fool, thinking his ultimate move was flawless and could never be broken."

In her mind, Thomas’s current predicament was well deserved—just a brainless musclehead getting what he deserved.

Ariana, on the other hand, was trembling with excitement, gripping Matthew’s hand and shaking it wildly. "Silvanus! He did it! Thomas has fallen!"

Matthew was shaken so hard his vision spun, nearly coughing up blood in the process.

At that moment, within the arena, Silvanus slowly descended from the air. The blood on his body hadn’t yet dried, and he didn’t look much better than Thomas.

But he was still standing—still able to fly—while Thomas was destined to be crushed into the ground.

And that was precisely what Silvanus intended to do.

The feeling was... exhilarating. So exhilarating it was almost uncontrollable.

His once-green eyes now gleamed with a golden hue. He raised his hand, and countless points of dazzling light gathered in his palm, swirling like golden fire before condensing into a massive sword.

Thomas’s eyes widened. His entire body trembled violently, yet he couldn’t move an inch.

Instinctively, he muttered the same question he had been repeating over and over since earlier.

"How... how did you... find me..."

Silvanus only laughed. A life-and-death battle, was it? He had no idea how many such battles Thomas had survived—but as for himself, he had lived through countless ones. From his earliest days, he had fought and bled—victory, defeat, and near-death had all been his companions.

He knew he was special, and he had never once feared his own power.

He carried the ideal of saving the world, but he had never intended to become some selfless hero.

He had survived until this day—and he would never allow anyone to threaten that life.

"I don’t want to kill you," he said calmly, "but my existence itself is already a great contribution to this world. So I can’t die."

And if he couldn’t die, then the only one who could—was Thomas.

The sword in his hand rose high, radiating a blinding brilliance that no one could look at directly.

Thomas saw Silvanus’s smile, saw the look in his eyes—and in that instant, he knew. Silvanus was genuinely going to kill him!

He struggled desperately to get up, but the arrows pinning his flesh to the ground held him fast. Silvanus clearly had no intention of letting him escape—the great sword shot forward at unimaginable speed!

"I’m from the Fulmen family! Do you really dare to kill someone from the Fulmen family?!" Thomas screamed.

Silvanus didn’t slow down in the slightest.

But the moment Silvanus’s massive sword came crashing down, a tremendous streak of light suddenly appeared—blocking the attack!

The collision of the two forces erupted into an explosion so powerful that, even with the barrier in place, bursts of light still shot outward, accompanied by a deafening roar.

"Young and impulsive, too eager for glory, and with no thought for the future."

The deep, cold voice of an Elder rang out right before Silvanus. The shockwave from the explosion had blasted him backward. Gritting his teeth, he summoned a gust of wind to steady himself midair, barely managing to avoid crashing into the ground.

Even so, he couldn’t stop a mouthful of blood from surging up and spilling out. His internal organs felt as though they were being wrung in agony.

Face pale, he looked ahead—at the spectral projection of Elder Walther.

The golden light in his eyes faded, and the sharp tension of battle ebbed away, leaving only pain. Pain so raw and vivid that he felt he could collapse at any moment.

Silvanus clenched his jaw. "So this was supposed to be a life-and-death battle, yet there’s still outside interference, huh? Ha ha."

Walther’s expression remained unreadable. "I was here to make sure you didn’t die, Silvanus. But it seems your capabilities were... severely underestimated."

Silvanus gave a faint, bloodied smirk and said nothing—too focused on holding himself together, suppressing the urge to cough up more blood.

Walther then turned away, dragging along the unconscious Thomas.

The barrier surrounding the arena dissolved, signaling the official end of the battle.

The audience fell utterly silent for a moment—then erupted like a beehive bursting open. The entire hall exploded with cheers and shouts of excitement.

Flowers materialized from conjured magic, scattering through the air like a vibrant storm.

"Silvanus, oh my god, that was insane!"

"Damn it, I never saw this ending coming!"

"He’s really a first-year?!"

"Silvanus! Do you like older women?!"

The air was filled with a jumble of voices. Silvanus blinked, dazed, as a flower landed on his head. He plucked it off and instinctively looked up—the sky above the Crucible’s open dome was bright with sunlight, shining through the cascade of falling petals.

He couldn’t help but smile—not with embarrassment, but with pride.

Spreading his arms wide, he tilted his head back and shouted, "Now you all know who the winner is, right?!"

"Silvanus!"

The audience roared in unison, their voices shaking the entire Crucible Hall.

The place now felt less like a dueling ground and more like a live fan rally for Silvanus—even though he was battered and bloodstained from head to toe.

Yet somehow, that image of him—bloodied but unbowed—burned itself into the minds of many.

Matthew stared wide-eyed at the stage. At Silvanus, standing tall amid the flowers and light. At the confident, upright figure he himself could never become.

The man who had beaten him black and blue—without him being able to fight back even a little—has now been defeated by Silvanus. The difference between them needed no words.

"I can feel it... the scent of admiration, longing, even envy. Stop denying it. You want to become Silvanus. You want to stand beside him. You want to make him look up to you!"

That voice whispered again—dark, echoing the vile, shameful thoughts Matthew had tried so hard to bury.