UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 109: Brutal

silence swept the arena as a single figure stepped out onto the glowing circular platform at the center. He wore white and silver robes that shimmered with runes, long hair tied behind his head.

Ramires.

The crowd erupted.

"It's him!"

"Sanatria's smartest mind!"

"I heard even King Aramir asks for his advice!"

Ramires raised a single hand, and the noise fell away like wind before a storm. He poured his Neba into his throat, amplifying his voice like rolling thunder.

"THE TIME HAS COME."

He spun slowly as his voice echoed across the world.

"The end of the Bloodrose Academy entrance tests is here. We've witnessed trials of mind, heart, and soul. But now... now we reach the most sacred test of all."

The arena walls shimmered as glowing golden numbers appeared above.

Current Top 10 Rankings:

1. Azrael Rodeny – 10,000

2. Atlas – 7,000

3. Cedric Valefort – 6,000

4. Seraph Neville – 5,500

5. Dune – 4,000

6. Edward Ederyus – 3,900

7. Syras Vermillion – 3,900

8. Lucas Neville – 3,000

9. Raphael Caelum – 2,800

10. Magnus Solberg – 2,500

The crowd exploded. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"Azrael is on top!"

"Atlas isn't far behind!"

Dune, Atlas, and Ned stood high above, behind the great glass chamber overlooking the battlefield. The cheers were so loud, they shook the floor beneath their boots.

"There are 500 remaining combatants," Ramires continued, now walking in a slow circle, voice unwavering.

"You will all face 1v1 duels. Win, and move forward. Lose, and be eliminated."

"Each victory grants 500 points. The top three scorers at the end shall earn an automatic placement in Bloodrose's S-Class, regardless of prior scores."

The arena fell into an electric silence.

"Now for the rules. Listen well."

"You may win by knockout, or by submission."

"If oponent doesn't give up, you may kill. But a murder equals -1,000 points."

Dune raised an eyebrow. Atlas tensed beside him. Ned's jaw clenched.

"You could actually die in here?" Dune thought. What the hell?

But Ramires wasn't finished.

"But if you choose to give up, you will be penalized with a loss of 3,000 points."

"What?!"

The crowd went wild with bloodlust. This was what they came for.

Dune looked at Atlas. Ned looked at Dune. None of them said a word, but their eyes spoke the same truth: this wasn't a game anymore.

Drums beat. The air pulsed with power.

Ramires waved a glowing sigil above the platform.

"First Match... Ivan Kestrel vs Eloria Fray! Fighters, step forward!"

Two names appeared in gold flame above the battlefield.

The arena trembled as the first two competitors walked toward the platform under the deafening roar of thousands.

The arena fell into a focused silence as the two fighters stepped forward, each standing at opposite ends of the platform.

One was a tall boy in emerald robes, cocky grin etched across his lips, his hands glowing with vibrant green light. His name lit the sky: Ivan Kestrel.

Opposite him stood a pale-skinned girl with crimson hair tied tightly behind her head. Black leather clung to her like a second skin, her eyes calm, but her stance, feral.

Eloria Fray.

"We've got a fascinating match-up to open this round!" boomed Ramires, standing on a floating platform above the field.

"Begin!"

Ivan moved first. With a grin and flick of his fingers, a glowing green orb burst out of his palm, whirling toward Eloria like a spinning comet.

She dodged.

But then three more blasts followed. She ducked, leapt, spun backward with terrifying grace. One of the green orbs skimmed her shoulder, fizzing against her skin before floating above her like a parasite.

Ivan snapped his hand, and all the orbs twisted back toward him, then fused together in the air.

BOOM!

A green explosion burst midair, shaking the platform and sending out sparks. He laughed.

"You see that?" Ramires called out, voice glowing with thrill. "Kestrel's Neba attacks linger, drain, and detonate. It's a triple-threat technique!"

But Eloria didn't flinch.

Instead, she rolled up her sleeves, no weapons drawn, and then suddenly...

CLANG.

Six swords shot out from her back, slick with blood and gleaming like crimson steel. They floated around her like loyal wolves.

That's creepy, Dune thought. She's not pulling weapons from a pouch or making them from her own neba. Those blades are hers. Born from her own body!?.

She launched them.

The air hissed as three of the swords spiraled toward Ivan. He dodged right, too slow. One of the blades grazed his arm, slicing clean.

"Shit—!"

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Blood from the blade smeared across his shoulder... and began to sizzle.

Smoke rose. His skin blistered.

Ivan screamed as he slapped it off, but the blood didn't come off easy, it burned.

"Eloria's swords aren't just steel, folks," Ramires shouted. "That blood coating is volatile. Rumors say it's alchemically fused with her Neba. If it touches you, expect pain."

Dune's eyes followed the fight, his brain processing every move.

Ivan's fast. But he can't handle pain well. He's trying to stay mid-range, but Eloria's already closing the gap. She's bleeding him out, literally...

Ivan, now furious, summoned more green orbs, this time faster, angrier, sending them like rapid bullets. Eloria blocked with her floating blades, the sound of metal cracking through the air.

Then she lunged again. Two blades in hand. The rest orbiting her like a storm.

Ivan summoned a massive orb and hurled it with both hands. She rolled under it, letting the explosion erupt behind her.

Then she appeared in front of him. One of her blades pierced his shoulder.

And with a sharp twist, she cut off his right arm. Ivan fell back, clutching the stump, green bloodlike Neba dripping to the ground.

Before he could recover, Eloria kicked him full force. He tumbled across the stage. And over the edge.

"Eloria Fray wins!" Ramires bellowed.

The arena roared.

Dune sighed. "Ivan needed a long range while Eloria kept getting closer. Unfair matchup. Once she got her blood on him, it was already over."

Ned just whistled. "Her ability seems annoying."