The crowd was still roaring after my announcement. The arena of Eterna gleamed like a golden basin beneath the midday sun, banners fluttering in the heated wind as if the gods themselves were watching. My gaze swept across the eight contestants — warriors, heroes, and fools — each burning with their own brand of ambition.
Jinrai stood before me, his eyes sharp, the air thick with his defiance.
"Since it's free, I'll take the gift," he said with a smirk, handing the microphone back to Souka. "But don't think that buys my respect."
So he had a spine after all. I respected that, even if he didn't realize it. Still, he had accepted my offer — a subtle acknowledgment that he was willing to walk the path laid before him.
I folded my arms, the golden aura of my Pharaoh's Presence flickering faintly behind me like a living flame. Brave words, I thought. But words are wind until tested in battle.
"Next," I said, turning toward the next contestant. "You, the one called Gai — the 'Splendacious Sword Fighter.'"
Before I could speak further, the man lifted his chin arrogantly and shouted, "Oi, Pharaoh! I'm stronger than that so-called 'Chosen Hero!' When I win, I want to fight you myself!"
A ripple of disbelief and murmurs spread across the crowd. Even Souka blinked in confusion. I, however, simply stared at the man.
"..."
For a brief moment, I said nothing. In truth, his outburst amused me. He had fire, but no restraint — like a sword that gleamed brilliantly but lacked an edge.
Then, before I could answer, a voice colder than the desert night echoed across the stage.
"How dare you speak to His Majesty in such a tone?"
Diablo, my ever-faithful enforcer, stepped forward from his position at the edge of the platform. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, his eyes burning crimson. "If you have the courage to challenge Lord Atem, then I shall be your first trial. Should you survive me, I shall personally relay your request to His Majesty."
The air froze. The audience's excitement turned into awe — or fear.
Gai, visibly sweating now, tried to smirk. "Heh, fine then. If that's what it takes, I'll beat you too."
I chuckled softly. "It seems my servant has answered in my stead." My voice echoed through the crystal amplifiers, calm yet carrying the weight of law. "Very well. The Chosen Hero and I already have an arrangement, but if any among you wish to challenge me, you must first surpass my Four Divine Guardians. Only then shall the Pharaoh of Eterna grant you that honor."
The crowd exploded in cheers — and fear. The title worked well. Convenient, powerful, and symbolic. I would use it again.
Souka handed the microphone back to Gai, who sneered. "Hmph. Nice dodge, Pharaoh. But I don't care if it's the 'Chosen Hero,' that demon, or even you — none of you can match me!"
I smiled thinly. The smile that made even generals sweat. "We shall see if your confidence survives contact with reality."
Best to end the exchange before Diablo's patience snapped. I lifted a hand slightly, signaling him to stand down.
"…Gai, the 'Splendacious Sword Fighter,'" I said, my tone clipped but even. "If you are victorious, I shall grant you permission to stand before me. Do not waste that privilege."
He clicked his tongue but gave a stiff nod. "Heh, don't forget you said that."
I already had.
Ignoring him, I turned my gaze toward Gozer and Mezer, both of whom straightened immediately under the pressure of my aura. Then, without hesitation, both knelt down.
"I am looking forward to your performance," I said firmly. "Even should you lose, remember — you are the guardians of my Labyrinth. Do not bring shame to Eterna by falling without resolve."
Both responded in unison, voices filled with devotion.
"Understood! I, Gozer, shall fight with all my heart and soul for the honor of Lord Atem!"
"To not tarnish your glory, I, Mezer, promise to fight with every ounce of strength I possess!"
"Good." I nodded. "Show me the meaning of your loyalty."
Their determination pleased me. Even if they were not destined for the final, they would stand tall in defeat. Their resolve mattered more than victory.
And then my eyes found the next name — and my lips tightened ever so slightly.
"Lion-Mask," I called, voice calm but edged with steel. "Restrain yourself. That is an order."
A loud laugh answered me. "Oi, oi, oi! That's all you gotta say to me, Pharaoh?"
"That's more than enough," I said with a faint glare. "Just make sure you keep your promise."
He grinned, that ridiculous golden mask gleaming under the sunlight.
"Hah! Fine, fine. I'll play nice — for now."
I sighed. There was no reasoning with that one. If he faced Gobta, the results would be… catastrophic. Hopefully, fate wouldn't be so cruel.
Speaking of Gobta—
"Gobta," I said, turning toward the small goblin warrior who looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. "Good job making it this far."
"Uh—wait, I'm a special contestant, not a—"
"I believe you'll win in the end," I said, cutting him off with a grin.
Gobta blinked, his jaw dropping. "W-wait, what—?!"
But I had already moved on. The pressure of my faith alone was enough to force him to give his best.
Finally, I turned to Geld. The massive High Orc stood silent and steadfast, his eyes full of resolve.
"Geld," I said, my tone softening slightly. "Show me your might. Fight with all that you are."
"Yes, my lord!" he bellowed, thumping his chest. The sound echoed like thunder through the arena.
Behind me, Gobta mumbled, "Why do I get a pep talk but he gets an epic speech…"
I ignored him. My work here was done.
The introductions had concluded. The crowd stirred as Souka raised her hand, a gleaming orb floating above her — the Sphere of Fate, an enchanted relic that would determine the matchups. The contestants gathered, tension thick enough to choke on.
One by one, the numbers appeared in the golden light.
Gozer — Number 1
Mezer — Number 2
Masayuki — Number 3
Jinrai — Number 4
Gai — Number 5
Gobta — Number 6
Geld — Number 7
Lion-Mask — Number 8
The board flared to life as the pairs formed:
Round 1 – Gozer vs. Mezer
Round 2 – "Chosen Hero" Masayuki vs. "Crazed Wolf" Jinrai
Round 3 – "Splendacious Sword Fighter" Gai vs. Gobta
Round 4 – Geld vs. Lion-Mask
Souka announced each match with enthusiasm, her voice echoing through the crystal network. The crowd roared after each name.
I studied the list silently, my golden eyes narrowing slightly. Fate had drawn interesting lines. Masayuki's first match was practically handed to him — luck favored him like a divine blessing. Meanwhile, poor Geld was matched against Lion-Mask right away.
If nothing else, these matches would be spectacular. I wanted to see Masayuki's limits, to understand the force behind that so-called "heroic charisma." But fate had other plans.
The crowd quieted as Souka raised her voice one last time.
"THE MATCHUPS HAVE BEEN SET! LET THE TOURNAMENT OF ETERNA BEGIN!"
The sound that followed shook the heavens — thousands shouting in unison, the ground trembling beneath their excitement.
I stood there, arms folded, cloak billowing in the wind, my eyes fixed upon the stage. The air itself seemed to vibrate with divine energy.
The first round was about to begin.
Before the first round began, the other contestants left the arena for the resting lounge. Only Gozer and Mezer remained at the center of the grand stage. The crowd's thunderous cheers dimmed into a tense silence as the two warriors glared at one another, the air between them vibrating with raw energy.
Aside from a few scathing taunts, neither moved. Both were waiting for the other to make the first mistake.
"Oi, Mezer," Gozer growled, his deep voice echoing through the arena. "We've dragged this rivalry for far too long. Today, we end it. Prepare yourself to lose."
Mezer smirked, raising his lance. "Lose? Don't make me laugh. The one who will stand among His Majesty Atem's glorious Four Heavenly Kings will be me, Mezer the Peerless! You can rot away guarding the labyrinth!"
"Ridiculous! You don't deserve to even speak of that title!" Gozer snapped back, his eyes flashing.
With that, their long feud erupted into a storm of steel and fury.
Their weapons met with a thunderous clang—shield against axe, shield against lance. It was a brutal, primal exchange. No spells, no illusions—just raw, physical power and technique honed over centuries.
Gozer swung his great axe in wide arcs, every blow capable of cleaving a boulder in two. Mezer, equally fierce, deflected each strike with his reinforced shield before countering with lightning-fast thrusts from his lance.
The arena quaked with every impact. Sparks scattered, and shockwaves rippled outward, shaking the very tiles beneath their feet.
Minutes turned to twenty, yet neither warrior faltered. The crowd could barely breathe as the two beasts clashed endlessly, neither giving an inch. They were equals in every sense—muscle, endurance, and will. It was a duel shaped by a hundred years of rivalry, and neither intended to end it without blood.
Atem sat watching from his throne-like seat, his sharp crimson eyes narrowing. His presence alone radiated authority, enough to silence even the restless murmurs in the stands.
"Magnificent," he said quietly, voice deep and steady. "Two warriors bound by pride and fury. Let their strength shake the foundation of Eterna itself."
The crowd roared again, swept into the fever of the duel.
Then—suddenly—it happened.
Gozer raised his axe high, lightning crackling along its blade. "THIS IS IT!" he roared, hurling it down with a swing that split the air like thunder.
The weapon came crashing toward Mezer with terrifying force. It was a strike meant to end everything.
CRAAASH!
Mezer's left arm exploded into a spray of blood as he blocked the blow with his shield. Flesh tore, bone cracked—but he had stopped the strike.
Through the pain, Mezer grinned savagely, eyes burning with victory.
"This is the opening I needed!" he shouted, lunging forward with inhuman speed. Before Gozer could recover, Mezer closed the distance and drove his lance forward.
"The match is over! Ma Chao—ULTRA LANCE STRIKE!"
The lance flashed like lightning—piercing Gozer's chest once, twice, three times in a blur of motion. The impact sent shockwaves through the arena, shaking the stands. Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Blood sprayed from Gozer's torso. The mighty ox demon staggered, his body trembling as Mezer pulled his lance free, confident the fight was done.
Then—
"You're far too naive… Thunder Horn!"
Gozer's roar shook the colosseum. His horns glowed with divine lightning, expanding in size, jagged and sharp like celestial spears.
In a single brutal motion, he thrust forward.
ZZZZT!
The horns impaled Mezer's right side, tearing through his arm and ripping away his right eye.
The lightning coursed through his body, searing flesh and boiling blood.
Mezer screamed as his body convulsed, the smell of burning filling the air. His right arm went limp, his weapon falling from his grasp. The electric current overwhelmed even his regenerative abilities, spreading faster than his body could heal.
Meanwhile, the gaping wounds in Gozer's chest began to close instantly, glowing with divine golden light. His body restored itself completely in seconds.
"Ultra-speed Regeneration," Atem murmured under his breath, watching keenly. "So, that's the secret to his endurance."
The match was over.
Mezer fell to his knees, panting, body scorched and trembling. Gozer stood tall, axe in hand once more, lightning fading around him like dissipating thunderclouds.
The referee raised his hand.
"The winner—Gozer!"
The colosseum erupted in applause and cheers. The audience was on their feet, roaring the victor's name. Even Atem's lips curved faintly in approval.
When both warriors finally left the stage, their wounds had already begun to heal completely—proof of their monstrous vitality.
"I'll definitely win next time!" Mezer shouted, clutching his chest, defiant even in defeat.
Atem's golden eyes flicked toward him, his voice calm yet heavy with command.
"Then grow stronger, Mezer. Let your pride drive you—but do not forget the lesson burned into your flesh today."
Mezer lowered his head, trembling under the weight of Atem's voice. "Yes… Your Majesty."
The match had been decided. Gozer stood as the first victor of the tournament.
Atem rested his chin on his hand, his gaze thoughtful. "A fine duel. Brutal, but pure. Still… 'Ultra-speed Regeneration'—a gift and a curse. Few realize how terrifying it is to face a foe who refuses to die."
The crowd continued to cheer as the stage was cleared for the next match, but Atem's eyes lingered on the combatants with the look of a king already planning the next move on his grand chessboard.