Read Novel Full Chapter 1540 Two for Two
Chapter 1540 Two for Two
"Haha! Spectacular! Spectacular!"
Unrestrained laughter rumbled through the endless space. The Great Verge lounged upon a chair of darkness with his eyes fixed on the live projection of a figure calmly sheathing his katana, the sizzling halves of his opponent falling from the skies.
"A pity, truly, span. That would've made it two for two. Tell me, why did you refuse to wager on this bout?"
The Eternal Span remained silent for a time.
"Because the result was never in question."
"Was it?" the Great Verge mused. "I would've sworn the Redflame still carried a sliver of hope."
A glare brushed against him, but the Great Verge merely waved it off, chuckling.
"The fool was doomed the moment he agreed to face that child. Some battles are lost before the first step is taken."
"How does it feel," he continued, "to finally witness his greatest, span?"
"…Why do you regard him so highly?"
"I regard only what merits it," the Great Verge replied calmly. "He's barely a year in the middle planes, and already stands among the so called hegemony of the Verge."
"And yet," the Span said, "he had help."
A knowing laugh escaped the Great Verge.
"The game's laws were fair. If anything, he was burdened more heavily than the rest, the bounty crisis ensured that. While the others fell beneath its weight, he rose. That distinction is precisely why he is exceptional. I did nothing more than prepare the board."
"You speak as though this entire game was not arranged for his sake," the Span said. "What is it you truly seek to accomplish?"
"I have told you already," the Great Verge replied. "I am cultivating his ascent. And though it galls me to admit it, the Verge itself is far too small a stage for someone of his measure."
The Span's many eyes narrowed.
"You intend for him to reach the Span…"
The Great Verge smiled, saying nothing.
"To do so," the Span continued, "he would need to overcome the strongest Marquis in the game. You truly believe that outcome is possible?"
"After all you have observed, you still harbor doubt?"
"The life weapon grants him an edge, but he has revealed it too soon. The others will adapt. He will fall beneath their onslaught."
The Great Verge's smile widened.
"Care to test that belief?"
The Eternal Span frowned.
"Must everything be reduced to a wager with you?"
"I preside over the greatest games of the middle plane, age after age. What else would you expect?"
"…What is the stake?"
"As ever, a favor."
The Eternal Span studied the projection in silence, before he finally spoke. "I accept."
…
'Their eyes have changed.'
Atticus slowly swept his gaze across the board. The only sound that lingered was the wet sizzle of burning flesh. Every Marquis and champion stood frozen, their attention locked on him.
Rage twisted some faces. Others wore disbelief. That a nobody, a newly risen god, had dismantled a Redflame Marquis in two strikes was something many simply couldn't accept.
But Atticus barely spared them a thought.
Ordan had been right. This move had never been about victory alone. It was meant to carve fear into the hearts of the other Marquis.
Judging by the tightened jaws, the clenched fists, the eyes that refused to blink, it had worked.
Still…
'It's not enough.'
Atticus turned, his gaze settling on the only Redflame Marquis left standing besides Dravek.
Scaela Solmar.
Unlike the others, she didn't appear shocked. Her eyes were filled with interest, a faint smile on her lips, even as the remnants of her faction still smoldered behind her.
"Please choose your champion, and select the champion to fight."
Atticus lifted a hand and pointed.
"I challenge him."
Eyes narrowed across the board. Scaela's brows lifted slightly.
The champion he had chosen was hers.
"What are you doing?"
Dravek's expression darkened as he asked. But Atticus didn't spare him a glance. Heat rolled off him in violent waves as he ground his teeth. That blatant disregard… he was once again reminded of his first meeting with Atticus. This same disregard had caused their enmity. "How dare you." He silently seethed. "Please select your champion," At the voice, Atticus glanced back once, taking in the confident, unshaken grins behind him.
"Ozeroth."
The man's golden radiance flared as he stepped forward, his gait calm. Light converged around him, and in the next instant he vanished, reappearing before the Redflame champion.
"Marquis Scaela. Do you accept or contest this challenge?"
"Jarek."
The champion stepped forward and gave a low bow.
"I'll handle it."
Scaela studied him for a moment. Jarek had been at her side since childhood. He was tall, densely built, and his presence restrained rather than imposing. His eyes were half closed, and a slender blade rested quietly at his waist.
"Don't lose," she said.
"Yes, Princess."
Jarek straightened and lifted his gaze, fixing it coldly on the golden figure before him.
All eyes were fixed on the duo. Atticus' victory over a Redflame Marquis was still fresh in their minds, but a battle between champions was different, especially when one of them was already a living legend.
"He's facing the Heat Blade…"
"He won't last."
"He can't. That title wasn't earned for show."
There was a reason Jarek had remained at Scaela's side since childhood. Being the daughter of a Marquis meant her life had been hunted relentlessly. Assassins had come in waves, and Jarek had been the blade that answered every single one.
He had been handpicked by Dravek himself.
The years guarding Scaela had been soaked in blood. Thousands had fallen to Jarek's hand, their names forgotten, their deaths folded into the legend that spread across the Verge.
No one present could imagine him losing.
Jarek regarded Ozeroth calmly. "I see it in your eyes," he said. "You're a warrior."
"That's why I'll be honest with you. You cannot defeat me. This ends with your loss."
His steel slid free from its sheath.
In an instant, his will erupted outward, and a crushing tide of heat rolled across kilometers, warping the air.
"Begin."
"Blazing Tempest."
Jarek vanished.
He reappeared before Ozeroth in a aggressive flash, his will screaming as it spiraled behind him like a raging storm before collapsing inward and compressing into the tip of his blade.
The thrust tore forward with such force that the air split. "He's fast!"
"He's going for the kill!"
Several Marquis stiffened. That was his ultimate technique. To them, the outcome was already decided.
But a low chuckle rumbled from Ozeroth. "I would lose?"
He raised a single hand, golden will condensing firmly around his palm.
The impact detonated in a violent burst. Heat, wind, and light exploded outward, swallowing the arena in thick haze.
Jarek's eyes narrowed as he gazed through it. Something was wrong.
His attack should have pierced through Ozeroth. Why hadn't it?
The haze dispersed, revealing Ozeroth who stood exactly where he had been before, unshaken.
Jagged arcs of golden light crackled violently at the point where Jarek's blade met Ozeroth's open palm.
Jarek's eyes trembled.
"Impossible!"
"People these days don't know their place," Ozeroth said, shaking his head like an elder lecturing a child. "Let me show you."
"Blazing Tempest."
Ozeroth vanished in a roaring gale, his fist driving cleanly into Jarek's midsection. The impact lifted him off the ground, blood and spittle spraying from his mouth as he was hurled into the sky.
In the next instant, Ozeroth appeared above him, his leg crashing into the back of Jarek's head and sending him plummeting into the earth below. The collision tore open the ground, forming a massive crater.
"Argh!"
Jarek spat out a mouthful of blood, his body trembling as his will flickered weakly around him. Fractures had spread across it. He had tried to shield himself with his will, but Ozeroth's blows had torn straight through it.
It was stronger than his. Stronger than a Redflame's.
The implication shook his heart.
"A… a true will…"
Ozeroth descended from the air, landing on Jarek with such force that his bones shattered on impact, his body burst in gory splatter. "Winner, Marquis Atticus."
"W-what just happened…? He lost?" "Did you hear that?"
"A true will?"
"How is that possible? He's not even a god!"
The uproar that followed was immediate. Marquis and champions alike stared at Ozeroth in disbelief. After Atticus' earlier display of power, many had assumed his champions would be his weak point.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
Though the sheer population of the middle planes meant true willers were more common than expected, their status was never diminished. Awakening one was a monumental achievement, something that permanently altered how others viewed you. Such a person could only be a god. One by one, eyes shifted to Atticus' back.
Just who was this child, capable of reducing someone of such standing to a mere champion?
"I promise you…"
A dense killing intent rippled across the board, instantly silencing the noise. Every gaze turned toward its source.
Scaela gazed at Atticus with a smoldering gaze.
"I will make you pay for that."
Atticus didn't bother turning toward her. He simply gave Ozeroth a brief nod. Ozeroth responded with a shrug, as if the outcome hadn't been worth acknowledging.
'That should do it.'
The turn moved on, and Atticus felt a quiet sense of relief as he watched the board settle. His move had worked.
The other Marquis hesitated to challenge him, none eager to become the next example. Their champions mirrored that hesitation. The revelation that a true willer was among his champions could not be ignored.
If they challenged again… what if they ran into another?
Their champions wouldn't survive it.