"Once again, the winner of this match is... TEAM 1!"
The announcer's voice echoed through the arena, still shrouded in silence. A few spectators began to clap, though their faces remained etched with fear and awe.
The healing team rushed into the arena, carrying stretchers for the injured fighters. Thunder Strike, Wall Keeper, and Deathblade Dancer from Team 2 were carefully lifted, while the three unconscious members of Team 1 were also taken to the recovery room.
However, when one of the healers approached Archer—
"W-Wait... he... he's not breathing!"
The trembling voice plunged the entire arena back into silence. The announcer, still drenched in cold sweat, quickly approached the scene.
"W-What?!"
He checked Archer's pulse, then his face turned pale.
"Ladies and gentlemen... it is with great sorrow that I announce... Archer from Team 2 has passed away!"
Gasps!
Leon, still standing in the center of the arena, widened his eyes. "What? Archer... is dead?" His mind flashed back to the final moments of the battle—Archer's last arrow. That attack must have been his final, desperate strike.
"And according to the arena's rules... if there is a fatality in this match, the winning team will be disqualified from the tournament!"
"WHAT?!" Leon couldn't believe it.
But before he could protest—
"WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!"
The cheers of spectators who despised Zero suddenly filled the arena. Some even threw trash at Leon, mocking him.
"Finally, the monster is out!"
"What a cruel murderer!"
"Get out of here, Zero!"
Leon gritted his teeth. "Idiots... they don't understand that Archer attacked first—"
But suddenly—
"I OBJECT."
The voice came from the VVIP booth—cold yet commanding. Every head turned toward its source.
Zenless Mammon stood on his balcony, his folding fan elegantly spread. With a casual flick of his wrist—
WHOOSH!
A golden path materialized in the air, stretching from the VVIP booth to the center of the arena. Zenless stepped onto it with effortless grace.
"Y-Your Excellency Zenless?!" The announcer immediately bowed.
The crowd fell silent. Some even trembled in fear.
Zenless landed gracefully in the arena, then snapped his fan shut with a sharp tap.
"Does anyone else object to Team 1 remaining the winners?" he asked, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade.
...
No one dared to speak.
Zenless smiled. "Since there are no objections, it's settled. Right, Announcer?"
"Y-Yes! Of course, Your Excellency!" The announcer nodded frantically, sweat pouring down his face.
Zenless clapped once. "Then, congratulations to Team 1!"
The applause acted like a signal. The spectators who had just been cursing Leon could only stand frozen in fear.
But Zenless wasn't done yet.
"Oh, Announcer... why hasn't our winner been given the special challenge? Isn't that tradition?"
The announcer choked. "B-But Your Excellency... that challenge hasn't been used in years because—"
"Because it's too dangerous?" Zenless interrupted, his smile widening.
"I'm sure... Zero can conquer it."
Leon frowned. "What kind of challenge is this, if I may ask, Your Excellency?"
Zenless pointed to the center of the arena. "See for yourself."
BOOM!
The ground in the middle of the arena suddenly cracked. From within, an object slowly rose—
A rusted sword embedded in stone.
The crowd was confused. But then—
"IMPOSSIBLE! THAT SWORD!!!"
An elderly spectator suddenly screamed hysterically, his face as pale as if he'd seen a ghost.
"What? What is it?" asked another spectator.
The old man trembled. "To those who don't know... this might just look like an ordinary sword-pulling challenge. But to those who've witnessed it... this is a SUICIDE EVENT!"
A chilling silence fell.
"Years ago... this sword claimed thousands of victims! Anyone who tried to pull it out—their energy would be drained until nothing but BONES remained! Some even turned to DUST because they couldn't withstand its power!"
Leon felt cold sweat trickling down his back. "What the hell...?"
Zenless clapped, breaking the tension. "Time to begin. Zero, pull out that sword."
The announcer immediately ordered Leon forward. Cautiously, Leon gripped the rusted sword and began to pull.
ZZZT!
The sword suddenly reacted!
"GHHH—!" Leon gasped. His energy was being drained at an alarming rate!
But he smirked. "Fine... if that's what you want!"
With a powerful tug—
CRACK!
The sword slowly loosened!
Zenless laughed in delight. "He's actually doing it!"
But then—
As it came free, the rusted sword transformed!
Its color shifted to a dark blue-black, with glowing cracks running along the blade. On its guard, a small ruby eye blinked, as if alive.
"I... can't control it!" Leon growled. His energy continued to be siphoned in massive amounts!
The announcer panicked. "Bring the containment! NOW!"
Staff members scrambled, and soon—
"Make way! The ARENA OWNER approaches!"
A burly man in an extravagant robe appeared, carrying an ancient sword sheath. He looked exhausted just from holding it.
"Catch!"
He threw the sheath toward Leon, who immediately slid the sword into it.
WHOOSH!
The raging energy instantly subsided.
The arena owner stared in awe. "Incredible... you actually succeeded!"
Leon panted but managed a smirk. "Thank you for the praise, sir."
Zenless, still smiling in satisfaction, said, "Congratulations... you are now the owner of a sword that has claimed countless lives."
Leon glanced at the sheathed sword, then back at Zenless.
"And you... have just passed my test," Zenless whispered, his words meant only for Leon.
The announcer quickly wrapped up the event, while Leon was escorted to the recovery room.
From the VVIP balcony, Zenless gazed at the sword from afar, his eyes gleaming.
The arena owner bowed to Zenless. "Your Excellency... it seems you've acquired something extraordinary today."
"Indeed," Zenless replied, fanning himself.
He chuckled softly, then vanished into the shadows.
=== CHAPTER 27 END ===