My Avatar is Becoming the Ultimate BOSS-Chapter 255 - 164: The Final Bet, the Final Mercy

Cosimo stood dazedly in the center of the Beast Fighting Arena, his figure drowned in a thunderous sea of applause. The claps felt like nails being driven into him, rendering him immobile.

He merely drooped his shoulders, his face clouded as he watched Cezar depart on the sled.

Li Qingping tilted his head back, murmuring, "Prince Cezar... won?"

From the royal box, gazing through the Crystal Ball, Yaguba watched Cezar flying towards him on the sled, thinking:

"Even the Royal Court Team nearly failed to stop him; this kid is undoubtedly a genius. If we keep cooperating with him... on the day we attack the Salvation Society, he might prove to be valuable."

Having seen this battle, Yaguba understood that Cezar’s talent was indisputably at a standout level among the Anecdote Envoys.

Not only did he resonate with generational-level Anecdote Fragments as a child, but he also demonstrated astounding composure in his first battle. Cezar was calm, not like a first-time fighter, but like a seasoned general.

With such talent, even the acclaimed "once-in-a-century genius" Li Qingping might find it hard to measure up to him.

Moreover, even the King, the most authoritative and influential in the Whale Terrarium, said that if Cezar grew up normally, he would undoubtedly become the greatest ruler in the Floating City and its most magnificent Anecdote Envoy.

Were it not for Cezar’s frail body, unable to withstand the power of the Anecdote Fragments long-term, the King would have had him begin his training long ago.

To be honest, even if Cezar eventually mastered mythical-level Anecdotes, Yaguba wouldn’t be surprised.

This monstrous boy could definitely be of use.

A moment later, Cezar descended from the Christmas Sled, breaking through the wind and snow, and stood on the platform.

He lifted his head, his gaze cool and distant, sweeping over Lorenzo, finally resting on Carolina’s face. His expression softened slightly, a smile on his face: "Mother, see, isn’t everyone’s reaction quite enthusiastic?"

Carolina’s eyes were full of surprise. She stared at the boy with white hair, now so unfamiliar, her mouth slightly open but words failing her.

Seeing her in silence, Cezar calmly said, "Mother, now that the exhibition match is over, I’ll go back to rest first."

After a pause, he glanced at Lorenzo with the corner of his eye: "Brother, I hope you can find the letter I gave you... I wrote it very carefully."

As his words faded, Cezar picked up the Crystal Ball placed on the chair, boarded the sled, and departed.

Carolina watched his retreating figure, speechless. This frail third son had actually won against his brother?

A long shock enveloped her heart, and after a moment, she suddenly recalled the King’s words, murmuring, "Your Majesty, maybe this child’s potential is even more astonishing than you imagined."

Li Qingping tilted his head back, quietly gazing at the sled flying towards the sky until it got swallowed by the clouds before he averted his gaze.

Honestly, he had originally planned to step in to protect the Third Prince, but in the end, there was no need; Cezar stood on the winning side.

In fact, the move with the Christmas Sled was one that Li Qingping taught Cezar a year ago.

At that time, Li Qingping observed that whenever the reindeer pulling the sled stepped in place, the snow accumulating under their hooves would grow thicker. Thus, he suggested Cezar give it a try.

During that initial attempt, Cezar almost crashed into the Floating Castle, but fortunately, Li Qingping intervened in time, averting disaster.

Before the fight, Li Qingping did consider that if Cezar used this move, he might beat the Second Prince.

However, he didn’t think much of Cezar’s psychological resilience; he expected that Cezar might panic at the start of the battle, unable to exert his full strength before being captured by the Second Prince’s Octave Prism.

But to his surprise... Cezar’s battlefield performance was surprisingly calm, like a born warrior.

Could a child who had never been trained truly provide such an astonishing answer in the first battle?

Li Qingping shook his head, recollecting his scattered thoughts, taking a deep breath, and no longer lingered but turned and left the field with the six members of the Royal Court Team.

....

....

Shortly after Cezar returned, night fell over the Whale Terrarium.

Under the cover of night, he sat on the rooftop of the Floating Castle, gazing at the swarming fireflies; the nearly transparent whale skin streamed with undulating waves, the hazy water light spilling over the lonely terrarium.

"Yaguba, didn’t you say you wanted to bet with me?" he asked.

"Yes, let’s bet on whether someone will come to kill you tonight," Yaguba replied.

"What if you lose?"

"Then, I’ll have to kill myself," Yaguba said.

"You’re not allowed to die," Cezar frowned.

"Then what do you want from me?"

"If you lose, just stay with me to travel the world, no running around," Cezar said softly, "In the future, I will leave this place forever, never to return."

Saying this, he lowered his voice: "This way, this foolish struggle can end, Father’s health will return to normal, and brother will inherit the throne; everything... will gradually improve."

"Ah, you’re still deceiving yourself?" Yaguba said helplessly.

"Promise me."

"I promise you... although I don’t think I can lose."

"It’s getting late, let’s go to sleep."

With that, Cezar picked up the crystal ball, returned to the bedroom, changed into pajamas, and then lay down on the bed. Holding the crystal ball, he stared at the little shark in the seawater for a while, then slowly closed his eyelids.

"Good night, Yaguba."

"Good night, Cezar," Yaguba paused, "Even though you’ll wake up soon, good night anyway."

Cezar was clearly unable to sleep, yet he was forcing himself to try. It was as if a man who couldn’t get drunk continued to pour alcohol down his throat, the icy liquid coursing through his insides, only sharpening his consciousness.

Yaguba stayed within the crystal ball, its dark blue eyes reflecting the struggling face of the white-haired boy.

A moment later, Yaguba waited until Cezar was truly asleep before slowly lifting the lid of the crystal ball.

It manipulated the dark water current to float upward, sneaking into the shadows in a corner of the bedroom, like a hunter hiding in the jungle awaiting prey, its dark blue pupils standing tall, glittering in the darkness.

It was unclear how much time had passed when a sudden noise entered his ears.

Cezar abruptly opened his eyes, turned over, and looked up to see figures dressed in night attire dropping down from the rooftop. Without hesitation, they crushed the prepared cards in their hands.

In the darkness, silver streaks of light flashed by, immediately followed by a shower of dense fireballs aimed directly at Cezar, accompanied by a gust of blistering heat that illuminated his pale face.

The firelight was captured in his contracting pupils, and the scorching heat rushing toward him almost set his white hair ablaze in an instant.

"Got him!" This was the first thought that flashed through the assassins’ minds.

No matter how mighty an Anecdote Envoy was, they could not instantly use an Anecdote Fragment; they must summon the Anecdote Atlas in advance to prepare for battle.

What’s more for just a child... Without the Anecdote Atlas, Cezar at this moment was merely a boy unable to even truss a chicken, faced with the all-consuming glow of the flames, with no outcome other than resignation.

But just as the assassins thought this, the next moment, dark water flowed like a waterfall forming in mid-air, seamlessly covering Cezar’s front. The surging frenzy, like an underwater vortex, roared and spun, completely swallowing up the dozen or so whizzing fireballs.

As the flames were fully extinguished, a veil of rising steam filled the assassins’ shocked vision.

Before the assassins could react, a shark several meters long suddenly emerged from the shadows. Enveloped entirely in black water streams, it spun rapidly in the air like a top.

A ferocious bloodline flashed through the darkness, and sharp fins sliced open the throats of seven assassins, the only remaining assassin was bitten on the shoulder by the shark.

The shark hit him against the wall with its head, embedding him like a nail unable to move.

Then, the shark controlled the black water streams, blocking his mouth and nose. The assassin was like a drowning man, on the verge of suffocation, unable to even scream.

This was the captive deliberately left alive by Yaguba.

If several assassins were killed before the truth was revealed, given Cezar’s character, he might stubbornly deceive himself: they weren’t assassins sent by his brother.

At this moment, the dark blue watery curtain shrouding the bed slowly receded, and Cezar’s eyes widened slightly.

His body wrapped in thin pajamas, he seemed pale, as though a cutout figure from an atlas ready to be snapped in the wind.

Cezar slowly recognized the seven bodies lying on the ground, with blood gushing from the slits at their throats.

Their faces were astonished and terrified, as if they had seen the most ferocious demon god before death.

Cezar’s lips moved silently, but he couldn’t speak, merely stepping down from the bed in silence.

He slowly, step by step, approached the dark blue giant shark hanging in mid-air, his vacant gaze sweeping over the shark’s face, then looked at the assassin pinned against the wall.

Cezar lowered his head, with strands of white hair covering his eyes.

"Yaguba... is it you?" he asked quietly.

"Yes... it’s me," Yaguba rasped, "This is my true form."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes."

Cezar turned, retrieving an exquisitely crafted dark red scabbard from the bedside table. From it, he drew a bright dagger, then walked slowly toward the assassin.

"Yaguba... release him," he said.

Upon hearing this, Yaguba retracted its sharp teeth, releasing the assassin’s shoulder, while pulling back the water streams blocking the assassin.

The assassin’s face turned ashen as he gulped for fresh air, like a sailor who’d just surfaced after a shipwreck.

Then, clutching his bleeding shoulder, he lay on the ground constantly coughing, sputtering water from his throat.

Cezar slowly stepped forward, raised the dagger to the assassin’s throat, and with its tip lifted the man’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

In the darkness, cold blue eyes were reflected on the icy dagger.

The white-haired boy slowly, word by word, asked:

"Now... tell me, who exactly sent you?"