Global Gods : Skill-Resonance Awakened

Chapter 331: Ch 331 : Well Played

The Colosseum of Death.

The arena was no longer a place of martial honor; it was a slaughterhouse.

The screams did not sound like the noble cries of warriors; they sounded like gunfire; sharp, short bursts of agony followed by the wet thud of bodies hitting the red sand.

Eighty Demigods had entered.

Currently, only ten remained.

Even Elder Tesser, the Crystalline Giant and strongest among them, lay shattered in the center of the arena.

His diamond-hard body had been reduced to dust, the result of a desperate, coordinated assault by forty Demigods who knew they couldn’t win unless the leader fell first.

But as soon as the leader of the council fell, the alliance shattered. It was every demigod for themselves.

In the corner of the arena, amidst a pile of rubble, a tragic scene was playing out.

"Elder Samantha... you look broken," a cocky, breathless voice whispered.

It was Zen, a Demigod of the Wind. His armor was cracked, his mana was nearly depleted, and blood dripped from a gash on his forehead. He loomed over a fallen figure.

Elder Samantha. She looked young, with the face of a maiden, but her eyes held the weariness of eons. Currently, she was slumped against a broken pillar, clutching a fatal wound in her side. Her aura was flickering like a dying candle.

"Mmm... Elder Zen..." Samantha wheezed, coughing up a speck of blood. "I think... I think I will die any second now. You... you should go. Take care of the others."

Her hand trembled as she reached out, gripping Zen’s bloodied boot.

"Please... take care of my disciples. They are the only family I have," she whispered, her voice fading.

She closed her eyes. Her chest stopped moving. Her hand fell limp to the sand.

Zen looked down at her, a flicker of genuine sadness crossing his face. In the Council, they had been rivals and partners, In arena they had been enemies, but in death, there was only respect.

"I will... don’t worry," Zen promised to the corpse. "Your legacy is safe with me."

He tightened his grip on his wind-blades. He didn’t have time to mourn.

Zen spun around, his eyes locking onto the remaining survivors. There were eight others left. They were exhausted, wounded, and desperate.

"Sorry, brothers and Sisters," Zen growled, channeling the last of his mana. "But I intend to live."

WHOOSH.

He became a blur of wind.

The battle that followed was brutal and short. Zen moved like a reaper, striking down Demigods who were too slow, too injured, or too hesitant. He beheaded the Dwarf Elder. He pierced the heart of the Fire Mage.

One by one, they fell.

Finally, silence descended upon the Colosseum.

Zen stood in the center of the carnage, his chest heaving like a bellows. He was the only thing standing vertical in a horizontal world.

He dropped his swords. His knees shook, but he forced himself to stay upright. Tears welled in his eyes; tears of relief, tears of guilt, tears of victory.

He looked up at the high wall where Mr. Bunny sat swinging his little legs.

Zen’s gaze was filled with hatred, he would have killed it, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to.

"I won," Zen shouted, his voice cracking. "I am the last one! Release me!"

Mr. Bunny stopped swinging his legs. He pulled a carrot out of his pocket, a carrot that suspiciously looked like a finger, and took a bite.

"Don’t look at me like that," the rabbit said, chewing noisily, which strangely sounded like bones breaking. "This slaughter is not my doing. As I said earlier, it is the will of Heaven. I merely provided the sandbox."

"Also," Mr. Bunny pointed a claw at Zen. "You were the one who killed tens of your friends just to survive. You can’t blame the referee for the player’s choices."

Zen gritted his teeth. "I did what I had to do! Now send me back!"

Mr. Bunny tilted his head, his red eyes glowing with amusement.

"I would have chopped you up for that tone," the rabbit mused. "But since you are a Candidate and i know you will die shortly, I will make an exception."

"Candidate? I am the winner!!" Zen shouted, a cold shiver running down his spine. "What do you mean ’die shortly?’ I won! Everyone else is dead! Why would i die? Were you joking from the start?"

"Are they really dead?" Mr. Bunny asked.

The question hung in the air, heavy and terrifying.

"If the trial isn’t over," Mr. Bunny grinned, revealing his serrated teeth, "then it means the win condition hasn’t been met. Think, Zen. Think."

Zen’s blood went cold.

If the game wasn’t over... someone was still alive.

"No..." Zen whispered.

He frantically scanned the arena. He looked at the bodies scattered across the red sand. He had killed most of them himself. He remembered the feeling of his blade cutting flesh. He remembered the lights fading from their eyes.

But he hadn’t killed everyone.

There were a few who had died fighting others. Or at least... he thought they had died.

Zen began to walk. He moved from corpse to corpse, double-tapping them with wind blasts to be sure.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

His panic grew. Was it Tesser? No, Tesser was dust. Was it the Dwarf? No, his head was over there.

"Who is it..." Zen hissed, his eyes darting around like a madman.

His gaze stopped on a broken pillar in the corner.

There lay Elder Samantha.

She looked exactly as he had left her. Motionless. Pale. Dead.

But Zen’s instincts screamed. He hadn’t checked her pulse. He had just taken her word for it.

"Samantha?" Zen called out, raising his hand to cast a wind blade.

Before he could fire, the corpse moved.

She didn’t struggle to rise. She didn’t gasp for air.

She simply stood up.

"Oh," Samantha said, dusting the red dirt off her robes with a casual grace. "You caught me."

Zen froze. His jaw dropped.

The fatal wound in her side? Gone. It was an illusion.

Her pale, dying face? Flushed with vitality.

Her flickering aura?

BOOM.

Samantha released her suppression. Her mana flared to life, not weak and dying, but raging like a storm. She was at nearly full Capacity.

While everyone else had been burning their life force fighting Tesser and each other, she had been sitting in the corner, napping under a high-tier illusion spell.

"Zen," Samantha said, her voice sad but strong. "I really don’t want to kill you. Your show of sympathy earlier.... That was kind."

She looked him in the eye.

"Will you please take your own life?"

Zen stared at her. The absurdity of the request almost made him laugh.

"Why should I suicide?" Zen spat, raising his swords. "You tricked me! You coward! I can still kill you and win this easily!"

"Can you?" Samantha tilted her head. "Tell me, Zen. Who among us is stronger?"

"Me!" Zen roared. "I killed Tesser! I killed the Fire Elder! I am the strongest!"

"That is true," Samantha agreed calmly. "In a fair fight, you are stronger than me. But Zen..."

She gestured to his trembling legs. She pointed to his bleeding wounds. She pointed to his depleted mana core.

"You are running on fumes. You have 5% of your strength left."

She spread her arms wide, her mana crackling around her.

"I, on the other hand, haven’t cast a single spell until now, apart from the illusion offcourse. I am not injured. I am full. I can fight even thousands of you right now."

"So," Samantha asked again, summoning a massive orb of pure energy in her hand. "Will you take your life by your own hands? Or do I have to splatter you across the sand?"

Zen looked at her. He looked at the orb of power. Then he looked at his own shaking hands.

He ran the simulation in his head.

If he attacked, he would be too slow. She would dodge and counter. He would die tired and defeated.

If he surrendered... he died on his own terms.

He realized then that strength wasn’t just about swinging a sword. It was about resourcefulness. She had outplayed them all.

Zen let out a long sigh. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a strange respect.

"You witch," Zen chuckled, shaking his head. "You played us like fiddles."

He dropped his combat stance.

"Take care of my family, Samantha. For real this time."

"I promise," Samantha nodded solemnly. "I will take care of our entire universe."

Zen smiled. It was the smile of a man who accepted his fate.

He picked up a discarded sword from the ground. He placed the cold steel against his neck.

"Well played."

SHING.

He drew the blade across his throat.

Zen fell to his knees, then to his face. He was dead before he hit the ground, the smile still frozen on his lips.