Slowly, as if locked in a trance, Raphael looked down at his severed right arm, his eyes wide with confusion and awe at the impossibility he had just witnessed.
Behind him, Aaron landed hard on the ground, performing a roll and summoning his weapon, which embedded itself deep into the floor after the throw, back to his hand.
The blond boy looked down at the severed limb, a grimace coming over his face, but his posture relaxed—a terrible mistake on his part.
Only a second later, the noble's staff of golden light had been reformed, a spell streaking across the sky and straight at the boy.
『Coronal Ejection』
Liquid plasma tore through the space, burning anything in its path, and soon, only meters away from obliterating Aaron where he stood.
DAMMIT!
Transforming Penelope into her broadsword form, he slammed her point into the sand and whispered out a single command.
『Wall of Waves』
Instantly, the turquoise sword exploded with water, the liquid colliding with the plasma as it formed an impenetrable barrier around the boy.
It wouldn't last long, however—strands of the attacking spell were already breaking through the water barrier that was laughably insufficient for stopping it.
Grabbing the sword's hilt and taking a step back, he dug his artificial leg into the ground, reinforcing it, the metal biting into the foundation of the arena.
This better work!
Holding out Ocean's Bane in front of him, he watched as his liquid shield failed, the weakened yet still strong wave of light shooting forward at him faster than the eye could track.
『Tidal Surge』
Swinging his sword in a clean arc, he put all his force into one single strike, aiming to slice the plasma in two pieces.
For a moment, nothing happened, a fragile silence descending upon everyone as the crowd watched with bated breath, their eyes glued to the action.
Then, as if time had caught up to the reality-bending attack, every light within a half-kilometer radius burned out, a tsunami of endless force tearing through the air around Aaron.
But it didn't stop there; it continued forward, barely missing the place where Raphael stood and forging onward towards the orange barrier stretching around the whole arena.
"It couldn't possibly…"
In the highest box above the stadium, Cauron Thorn stood up, eyes wide with his hands placed against the glass panel that separated them from the world below.
Krkkkkkkkkk!
The tsunami collided with the barrier, and a deafening bang rumbled through the stadium as a crack tore through the impenetrable, orange wall.
Audience members screamed and ran as the whole forcefield began to crumble, breaking under the oppressive power of the God Slayer's sword.
The once warm air that filled the desert stadium chilled instantly, a thin layer of water lingering on the sandy floor.
Aaron and Raphael still stood firm, their eyes locked on each other, not a care in the world about the intense damage just caused.
Ignoring the panicking crowd, they rushed at each other once again, sword meeting staff and sparks flying through the air.
The blond boy's hand shifted around, morphing the broadsword to a dagger and firing a punch towards the white-haired boy's only remaining arm.
Meanwhile, Raphael didn't seem to pay his missing limb any mind, his fighting spirit as sharp as ever.
Throwing his bo upwards to block, he slapped the strike away, grabbing Aaron's outstretched arm and yanking him forward, his knee shooting up and slamming into the stumbling boy's face.
The teeth inside the first-ranked challenger's mouth crackled, and he fell backwards, his arm slipping away from Raphael's grip.
Yet, with a quick push off the ground, he launched his lower body upward, burying the older boy between his thighs.
Squeezing tight, he allowed gravity to assist him, taking him down to the watery ground along with his opponent.
In the aftermath of the tsunami, there was nearly a foot of water filling the arena, enough for Aaron to submerge the noble's head.
The subdued boy squirmed and flailed his remaining limbs, attempting spell after spell and summon after summon; however, as bubbles rose to the surface, his body grew limp, his struggles weakening.
Slowly, Aaron's mind began to clear, and the mixture of screams and cheers that rumbled through the stadium finally entered his ears.
Quickly pulling away and releasing the triangle choke that left Raphael passed out, he stood up mechanically and moved the boy's face out of the water.
A moment later, a group of medics rushed over, swarming them and taking the unconscious noble away for treatment.
Still in a haze, Aaron looked around him, gazing at the surrounding destruction—the flooded floor, the strikingly missing barrier, and the damaged walls of the arena, which had crumbled in several locations.
Cauron Thorn stood in the destroyed region, his arms crossed as he tried to restore the barrier with little luck.
W-what did I…
He heard someone clear their throat behind him, followed by a wave of pressure so intense that it felt as if his head was going to explode.
D-don't tell me…
Closing his eyes, he heard the voice of two men that he didn't wish to hear.
"Aaron Grimstall."
"We need to chat."
Vaelmyr Droskyn and Lepaie Quinn, Kings of Souls and Dreams respectively, spoke with a calm tone, not a trace of anger—or any distinguishable feeling—behind their request.
Taking a deep and labored breath, Aaron slowly turned around, making eye contact with both men, one by one.
"A-alright…"
He managed to breathe out a reply, lamenting the fact that he couldn't pray for what felt like the thousandth time in the past few months.
…
Deep within the Abyss, the sound of booming laughter shook the very fabric of reality, vaporizing any sea terror within nearly one hundred kilometers that was not of an Apex variety.
"That's my boy right there! You see that? Flung that holy man's kid around a little and even cut off his arm!"
Talking to the shadows where his so-called friend always lurked, he realized it had closed its eyes, entering the astral plane to wait for Nidhogg's descent.
"Ugh… You really are the worst best friend I could ask for…"
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the image on the screen, groaning at the sight of a hallway with two Sea Kings ahead of Aaron.
"Death's contractor, eh? That man should already be aware of my interference, so he won't be an issue… However, I wonder if the foolish dreamer who ascended before my sealing would know of my mark on the boy…"
Pressing his lips together, he felt the chains around his body grow tighter than they had in centuries, an aura of annoyance coming from the being in the darkness.
"Yes, yes… I know, so calm down. But it's still quite an interesting broadcast to watch! I mean, it even has a channel where they announce the lottery numbers! Even those Architects who tried to free me didn't provide me with one of these!
He was, of course, referring to the radio that had mysteriously floated into the deepest depths of the Abyss and miraculously survived the pressure.
Not only that, but through unknown means, it remained able to communicate with the surface world—granted, it was only a one-sided signal.
He could only hear, not speak, an unfortunate outcome for an elder who wished for nothing more than someone to talk to.
However, together with his mirror, which served as his eyes, the radio could paint him a fairly good picture of outside matters.
"When is that Watcher going to be back… Spying on the tournament from the edge of the Sea of Mystery will do nothing when the fog is up… Unless…"
The Old Man turned his gaze out into the darkness, listening intently.
"Eh, so you didn't lower the veil? Then what is he trying to see? Or is it just his obsession with his own reflection in the fog?"
Not quite understanding the colossal being that ruled over a majority of the Abyss, he pondered another dilemma he had on his mind.
"Have you prepared a Seal of Time for that devourer when he returns? Your supply must be dwindling after that man died. I don't think there is even enough left to reseal me…"
Waiting for a response he never got, he sighed before looking back into the reflection of the boy whom he had contracted.
"Perhaps it's time for him to get another reward… I heard that the winner of this tournament gets a ticket into the Vault of Nautilus, and there are at least three pieces of my armor located there. That Flock boy and that Ayaka girl would be perfect candidates to receive one of my false prophecies, and then it'd be smooth sailing for him to get a full set!"
Smiling and throwing his arms out wide, he heard a noise from the shadows, not words but something he could interpret in his own way, his mood souring with every second he listened.
"Yeah… Uh huh… Wait… C'mon! I'm sorry!"
His smile faded into a frown, and his cheek twitched in annoyance as he yelled into the Abyss.
"I don't give a damn what you think! Fine! No armor! But I'll get those two brats something good that they can keep themselves! Just you wait, you—"
His voice cut off, the chains sealing his mouth and embedding deep in his flesh.
As the date grew closer towards January 1st, the day of the Abyssal Convergence, it was imperative that the seal remained intact around the God Slayer.
Therefore, his guardian employed the seal to its fullest extent close to the end of each year, wrapping his whole body in chains.
As the man's eyes vanished below the pitch-black links, he caught one final glimpse at his protege in the projection, a slim smile coming over his face.
"I'll break these damn chains and come see you in person one day. Just you wait, Grimstall."
With those words, he was completely consumed by the seal, his entire body going rigid as his very soul was held by wire.
The Old Man, Heaven's Bane, and the God Slayer himself were now silent, an eerie quiet falling over the Abyss.
All that could be heard was the hum of static from the radio, a few broken words coming out in pieces.
"Aaron. Winner. Of. Round. Two."