She was still wearing that professional gas mask, making her expression unreadable, but in those golden eyes lacking highlights, a calm judgment seemed to flash: "Target Status: Dizziness, Extreme Vulnerability."
Powering her feet, her figure moved like lightning, instantly rushing forward to the lowered head of Anaxa!
The seemingly ordinary baseball bat in her hands was gripped tightly by both hands; the core strength of her waist and abdomen exploded, driving her whole body to rotate, condensing all the kinetic energy and the power integrated from the guardians of Belobog onto the head of the bat!
"Target: Mandible. Angle: 45 degrees. Force: Maximized."
Silently reciting the battle parameters, Jack swung the bat cleanly, powerfully, and without hesitation!
"Bang—!!!"
The dull yet loud impact sounded like a giant war drum being struck!
The bat struck Anaxa's mandible with extreme precision!
Anaxa, who was vomiting, felt an irresistible force surge from his jaw; his entire head snapped backward, and his massive body was actually lifted clean off the ground by the blow, soaring into the air!
The filth he had yet to finish expelling traced a visually impactful arc through the air.
The illusory health bar above his head, which was already swaying precariously, instantly emptied under this strike, like a balloon pricked by a needle!
"Boom—!"
Anaxa's massive body crashed heavily onto the distant ground, kicking up clouds of dust and shaking the entire arena three times.
He struggled, but ultimately failed to get back up. The scarlet and madness in his eyes receded like a tide, leaving behind only complete dissipation and... a hint of relief?
(Perhaps it was an illusion)
Deathly silence (apart from the faint sound of dry retching coming from afar).
Then, the System's emotionless mechanical voice, like a whistle signaling the end of the match, echoed throughout the space:
[Target vital signs confirmed to be below threshold. Mental Berserk State deactivated.]
[Anaxagoras, one of the Seven Sages of the Divine Enlightenment Tree Court, founder of the Sapient Seed School, Chrysos Heir of the Rational Spark—successfully defeated!]
In the audience stand, Madam Herta looked at the battlefield—a scene of utter chaos, "rich" in smell, yet unexpectedly successful in outcome—her delicate, doll-like face displaying an expression too complex to describe.
The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, finally resolving into a sigh.
The victory came so... suddenly, and with such a strong scent.
"The flavor is strong, no need for extra salt..."
She muttered softly to herself, a hint of helplessness flashing in her purplish-black eyes.
This method of winning was honestly a bit... disgusting.
She shook her head, deciding not to dwell on the process; the result was what mattered most.
A Chrysos Heir had been successfully "persuaded."
Thinking of this, her mood lightened slightly. Subconsciously, she looked to her side, wanting to share this "joy" with Cyrene.
"Cyrene should be happy for her companion's release..."
She turned her head while thinking, and then froze.
The seat beside her was empty.
Extending her gaze, at the boundary of her fifty-meter activity limit, the small figure with pink short hair was sprawled face-down on the ground in an extremely undignified posture, completely motionless.
Cyrene, this gentle and kind child, was unable to hold out until the end of the battle under the continuous influence of that pervasive "fragrance." She had been directly knocked out by the stench and hadn't even witnessed Anaxa's final defeat.
Black Herta's mouth twitched uncontrollably again.
She silently snapped her fingers, and a soft light enveloped the unconscious Cyrene, teleporting her back to her comfortable resting space.
Hopefully, when she woke up, she wouldn't be left with any permanent psychological trauma from today's experience.
After dealing with this little interlude, Black Herta's gaze returned to the solitary figure in the arena.
Jack was still wearing the gas mask, standing there with her head lowered, her gray hair gently swaying in the breeze.
Her posture revealed a sense of... tranquility and sadness that was completely out of place with the surrounding mess.
Was she reflecting on the brutal battle? Or feeling empathy for Anaxa's fate?
Black Herta felt a rare flicker of curiosity.
She rose gracefully, a faint glow appearing beneath her feet, precisely avoiding the unspeakable residue on the ground, and approached Jack.
"You look a little sad?"
Black Herta's voice remained calm.
Jack lifted her head, and her golden eyes, lacking highlights behind the gas mask's lenses, looked toward Black Herta.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she slowly raised her hand and pointed at the half-section of salted fish head nearby, which was submerged in turbid liquid and still stubbornly radiating its "residual might," clearly refusing to rest in peace. Her voice, muffled through the mask, said:
"The Salted Fish Sword... a very important weapon."
Her tone held a seriousness bordering on mourning.
"It helped me defeat a powerful enemy."
"But now, only half of it remains."
Black Herta followed her gaze. The half-section of fish head shimmered faintly in the filth, its visual impact still strong.
She fell silent. For a moment, conventional words of comfort, such as "out with the old, in with the new" or "weapon attrition is common in war," were stuck in her throat, impossible to utter.
Expressing regret over such a... thing was truly testing the limits of her cognitive tolerance.
Just then!
A sudden change occurred!
The half-section of salted fish head, submerged in the vomit, slowly... began to float, without any warning!
Black Herta's pupils constricted. She subconsciously took half a step back, and the invisible Pollution Isolation Barrier around her instantly strengthened.
Did this thing... still have life?
Jack, meanwhile, tilted her head curiously. The expression beneath the gas mask was unclear, but her eyes seemed to hold a greater degree of investigative interest.
Under Black Herta's vigilant gaze, an even more astonishing scene unfolded:
Below the severed neck of the floating fish head, a brand new... fish body began to "grow" at a speed visible to the naked eye!
The color, texture, and even the pervasive, immortal stench—which seemed to exist independently of physical laws—of this newly grown section were identical to before, perhaps even... more "mellow"?
Just as the salted fish was completely restored to "wholeness," hovering in mid-air like a real salted fish that had endured years of drying, and swaying slightly—
A slogan flashing with colorful, gaudy lights, accompanied by a giant kaomoji (◕ᴗ◕✿), suddenly appeared next to the salted fish:
[(Sniff) Hmm~!]
[Ninety-nine percent success, a rare item~!]
[Ugh...]
Black Herta: "..."
She felt a vein throbbing on her forehead.
Aha! Sure enough, that guy had interfered!
This kind of malicious humor—who else but The Aeon of Elation, who delights in seeing mortals in distress?
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