Suddenly, propelled by a last-ditch surge of adrenaline, Krakus mustered enough strength to violently fling Daseos off his head.
Daseos went airborne but managed to control his landing, rolling across the ground like a tumbleweed in a windstorm.
But Daseos was already thinking ahead, his eyes locking onto a gleam at the edge of the arena—the blade he'd tossed aside earlier.
Ignoring the pain that screamed through every fiber of his being, Daseos rolled with agility and grabbed the blade's hilt.
"Raahhhhh!!"
With a growl, he mustered every ounce of remaining strength and hurled the blade. It whirled through the air, straight and true, like a hawk diving for its prey.
Time seemed to slow as the blade found its mark, piercing through Krakus's open mouth and lodging itself deep within his throat.
The crowd went silent for a beat, as if holding its collective breath, before erupting into cacophonous cheers and jeers.
"ROAAAARRRR!!!"
"[5]!! [5]!!! [5]!!!! [5]!!!!!"
Daseos collapsed to his knees, every muscle screaming in protest, but his eyes never left Krakus.
As he watched Krakus crumple to the ground, Daseos felt a swirl of emotions fight for control.
There was triumph, yes, and relief.
But underneath it all, a dark satisfaction simmered, chilling him to the core.
But the arena was no place for reflection.
The noise crescendoed as the announcer limped into view.
The announcer, a well-dressed snake-skinned man with a pronounced limp, hobbled into the center of the arena.
His eyes locked onto Daseos's, a spark of awe flickering behind a curtain of professional calm.
With a deep breath, he lifted his microphone cane.
"LISTEN UP, you scoundrels and miscreants! Behold, a day that will be etched in infamy!"
His voice ripped through the arena, amplified by dark magic.
"For the first time in televised history—a non-villain has vanquished a villain! Let it ring across Antagonia: [5] is your victor!"
The crowd detonated.
"[5]!!! [5]!!! [5]!!!"
"This is insane!"
"HAHAHA!!! I WON 1:11!!! ALL HAIL [5]!!!"
The excitement in the crowd hit a fever pitch, the stadium vibrating with their energy.
Voices babbled, speculating, celebrating, or cursing this twist of fate.
"Did a non-villain just beat a villain?"
"I can't believe what I'm seeing!"
"ROARRR!!!!"
Fists were thrown into the air, drinks sloshed over the sides of cups, and the ground shook as if the very earth were rebelling.
Criminals, hooligans, all kinds of disreputable types—they'd found their new hero, an undisputed legend.
While this was but a start, everyone could feel the rise of the legend
While Daseos basked in his hard-fought victory, others watched from the shadows, each with their own thoughts and intentions.
[ VIP Room 0 ]
Lust, embodying her name in every curve, delicately covered her mouth with a handheld fan.
A smile crept over her face, a mixture of intrigue and delight.
As she began to move toward the exit, her path was blocked by Gluttony.
The towering slob of a villain was gnawing on what appeared to be a human leg, his eyes locked on the screen as if expecting it to change the results.
"Mhhhmmm… Are you going to show up for our meeting later this year?"
He mumbled between mouthfuls, not even looking at her.
Lust paused, her slender fingers pulling up a face mask with a practiced grace.
She met his gaze, her eyes a blend of mischief and aloofness.
"I'll think about it,"
She said, the words a velvet touch on the edge of a knife.
And then she was gone, leaving Gluttony to his grisly indulgence and the blood-stained room.
[ VIP Room 1 ]
"HAHA!!! SHOW ME THA MONEY!!!"
Devian, tall and muscular as he was, couldn't contain his jubilance. He leapt into the air, landing with a thud that shook the room.
"What did I say?! What did I say!! [5] is the best!!"
Lilith on the other hand, had been silently staring at the arena.
[5] had his arm held aloft by the announcer.
The young masked fighter looked utterly spent, barely able to stand.
'Could it really be that pervert?'
She wondered as she recollected the cheeky grey haired Daseos. A perplexing mix of doubt and intrigue churned within her.
Mayor Malachor cast a side-long glance at Fiszure,
"Let's go meet our Darkspire's local superstar…"
Fiszure offered a brief nod, but before they could take another step, Devian interjected.
"Hey, hey, hey! Can I come, pretty please? I promise I'll behave! I won't even talk, devil's honor!"
Devian's eyes were wide with pleading, his hands clamped together in exaggerated begging.
At that moment, Lilith snapped out of her contemplative stare.
Her curiosity piqued, she turned,
"I wouldn't mind meeting him either."
A silent exchange happened between Malachor and Fiszure.
Then, with a resigned sigh, Malachor gave a nod.
"Fine, but no antics, you hear me?"
Occulus, now collapsed onto a plush, obsidian-black sofa in the corner of the VIP room, his whole being drenched in an otherworldly fatigue.
Visions were never easy, but this one had drained him like no other.
His robes clung to him like a second skin, drenched in cold sweat, as though he'd crossed an ocean of nightmares.
His mind was a storm, whipping up fragments of the vision he'd just had.
This… [5], standing alone amidst chaos, a beacon of... what exactly?
A savior?
A destroyer?
Or something in between?
"Do I really want to involve myself with this?" Occulus found himself pondering.
There had been a rawness to the vision, an intensity that he couldn't ignore.
If he chose to interject himself into Daseos's path, would he be accelerating what was foreseen?
Could he handle the inevitable backlash that came with meddling in the tides of destiny?
Occulus's hand trembled slightly as he reached for his Cultist emblem, worn and cracked, a physical embodiment of the perilous road he walked daily.
He felt the sharp edges dig into his palm, grounding him.
With a sudden burst of resolve, he knew he couldn't let this moment slip through his fingers.
The mystery of Daseos called to him like a dark hymn, echoing in the chambers of his soul.
He had to meet this enigmatic young man who had somehow, inexplicably, found a way to exist both within and outside of his nightmarish visions.
As Mayor Malachor, Fiszure and the group began to walk toward the exit, Occulus gritted his teeth and shouted,
"Hey~! What about me!"
Gritting his teeth, Occulus bolted up from the sofa.
His face was a mask of determination mingled with dread.
He took a breath, as if pulling the threads of destiny tighter around him.
'That darned old man, what the fuck has he gotten me involved in!!!'
Occulus cursed in his mind as he ran after the group.
And with that, he stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a sense of finality that echoed in the chamber's dark corners.