Chapter 33: The Champion

The cheers in the crowd were wild as Orson watched General Elias release his astral soul. Orson saw the reaper that manifested and was a bit surprised by it.

Based on what he knew about this world, when you opened your life gate, you gained access to the system. Orson looked down as he summoned his own system.

[ ASTRAL SYSTEM INTERFACE ]

Name: Orson

Astral Rank: Human

Astral Class: White Hollow

Astral Burden: Not Contacted

[ INNATE SOUL ABILITY ]

None

[ SPIRITUAL CULTIVATION ]

Power Source: Cultivation of the Old World

Spiritual Root: White Hollow

Realm: Qi Gathering (Mid Stage)

Spiritual Qi Attributes: Life Gate Flames (White)

[ ACQUIRED SOUL ABILITIES ]

None

[ ASTRAL PROJECTIONS ]

None

[ ASTRAL WEAPONS & ITEMS ]

None

[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION LOG ]

[ Anomaly Detected ]

No active Astral Being contract found. The Tether remains unformed.

[ New Power Source Detected ]

Ancient Qi resonance identified: Cultivation of the Old World. White Hollow Spiritual Root activated. Internal Qi refining initiated.

Before looking down at the reaper.

So the reaper was an astral projection. These rewards were gained if you killed a beast or a Dark One. But Orson had really done nothing since he came, apart from stealing cores of beasts.

Orson just sighed to himself as he watched the match. It was reaching its final battle.

---

The heavy, notched edge of the giant scythe cleaved through the air, carrying the absolute weight of a hundred nightmares.

Draven looked up into the shadowy abyss beneath the Reaper’s cowl, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. Trapped in the shadow of the colossal summons, there was nothing he could do to dodge, no room to roll, and no time to bring the Watershine whip around to parry. Instinct took over. Gritting his teeth, Draven poured every last drop of his Astral energy inward, activating his soul ability to its absolute limit.

A sudden, translucent navy-blue sheen flared across his skin, instantly turning his entire body into a glowing, impenetrable husk.

CLANG!

The massive spectral blade struck Draven’s neck with a deafening metallic screech that reverberated off the stone walls of the arena. Shockwaves exploded outward, blasting a circle of sand into the air. But as the dust cleared, the Reaper’s scythe violently bounced off Draven’s glowing blue skin, leaving not even a scratch on his collarbone.

The crowd went wild. Tens of thousands of spectators leaped from their seats, roaring in approval at the sheer resilience of Absolute Durability.

"Unbelievable!" the announcer screamed into his microphone. "Draven takes a direct, full-force blow from the Deathbringer and walks away without a drop of blood spilled! This match isn’t over yet!"

Up in the stands, Julian wiped sweat from his forehead. "Is that guy made of immortal steel or something? How is Elias supposed to hurt him?"

"Patience," Orson murmured, his eyes sharp as he tracked the subtle shift in Elias’s posture. "Watch Elias."

On the sand below, Draven smirked, his navy-blue skin fading back to its normal tone. He snapped his wrist, bringing the water-whip around in a furious counter-attack to drive the Reaper back. For the next few minutes, the battle seemed stuck in a brutal stalemate. Draven lashed out with long-range strikes, and Elias used the Deathbringer to parry, clash, and trade blows, keeping the arena filled with non-stop thunder and flashing sparks. To everyone in the colosseum—including Draven himself—it looked like the fight was bound to end in an exhausting tie.

Then Elias changed the rhythm.

Abandoning his defensive display, Elias went on a sudden, relentless offensive. He didn’t just command the Reaper to swing; he synchronized his own movements with the spectral giant. Elias lunged forward with his heavy broadsword, forcing Draven to block high, while the Deathbringer swept its scythe from the left in a deadly pincer movement.

Draven’s eyes widened as the sheer speed of the dual assault caught him off guard. He tried to uncoil his whip to defend his flank, but Elias stepped heavily onto the liquid steel, pinning the weapon to the stone floor beneath his boot.

"What—?" Draven gasped.

With a brutal twist of his broadsword, Elias disarmed his opponent, sending the Watershine whip spinning high into the air before crashing into the distant arena wall.

In the same fluid breath, the Deathbringer brought its giant scythe down once more, slamming the flat of the massive blade straight into Draven’s chest.

CLANG!

Once again, the translucent navy-blue glow flared across Draven’s skin, bouncing the Reaper’s blade away.

Draven let out a ragged laugh, stepping back. "I told you! Your physical attacks can’t touch me—!"

He froze.

Elias hadn’t retreated this time. In fact, he was already right in front of him.

During the chaotic exchanges, Elias had been carefully observing every single time that navy-blue sheen appeared. It wasn’t a passive aura that stayed active continuously; Draven had to trigger it manually upon impact, meaning the invulnerability only lasted for a fraction of a second.

There was a cooldown—a brief window of vulnerability before his body could channel that blue light again. Elias didn’t know if the cooldown lasted three seconds or ten, and he didn’t care to wait and find out.

Before the blue glow on Draven’s skin could even fully fade, Elias moved.

A cold flash of steel cut through the air.

Draven’s breath hitched in his throat. He went to raise his arms, to step back, to channel his power—but his body couldn’t react fast enough.

The razor-sharp edge of Elias’s broadsword hovered less than a millimeter from Draven’s bare throat. The steel was so close Draven could feel the icy chill of the metal resting against his pulse point. Above them, the towering Deathbringer held its giant scythe locked directly over Draven’s skull, ready to crush him if he made even the slightest twitch.

Draven’s chest heaved. He stared into Elias’s calm, unreadable eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation. He found none. The blue skin ability was on cooldown, his weapon was gone, and the next strike would sever his head before his power could refresh.

Slowly, bitterly, Draven raised both hands high above his head, locking his fingers together overhead in the universal gesture of defeat.

"I surrender," Draven muttered, his voice barely a whisper against the quiet air.

The arena fell silent for a single, agonizing second as the judges verified the signal. Then, high above the colosseum, the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, shattering the stillness:

"The Demon Blank Guild’s Draven surrenders! General Elias is our champion!"

The stadium exploded into a deafening wall of cheers, shouts, and applause. Elias smoothly lowered his broadsword, sheathing it back onto his waist as the towering Deathbringer dissolved back into his shadow. He turned toward the screaming crowd, raising a single fist into the air to acknowledge his fans, while up in the spectator stands, Corvin, Julian, and Lenora let out a collective sigh of relief.