Below, chaos reigned.
The concrete arena roared beneath the onslaught as Blackwood tore through it with unrestrained ferocity, each strike carving the ground with brutal force, leaving fractures and craters in its wake. Blackwood was no longer himself; sure, it was still him, but at the same time not him — it was as if he had relinquished his thinking capacity entirely. There was no rhythm, no restraint, only the raw, destructive intent he unleashed with relentless intensity.
His body surged violently with steam, as though something was boiling beneath him, dark green marks stretching from his bare chest to each shoulder, reaching across his back, and others running from his chest past his ribs toward his back.
A beast-like aura surged from him in unstable, oppressive waves, thick and suffocating, distorting the space around his body. His Reira flared with an intensity that bordered on excess, each pulse radiating outward like a shockwave, cracking through the already shattered arena floor. His pupils were gone — only the stark whiteness of pure rage remained in his eyes.
Jurgen yielded ground again and again as he dodged, perhaps already regretting angering Blackwood earlier. His movements were sharp but increasingly strained, the pain etched into him refusing to fade, each retreat measured in inches as he narrowly evaded the relentless barrage.
"Tch… so you lost your head completely?"
The taunt slipped out, edged with tension he could no longer fully conceal.
"RAAAHHHH!"
Blackwood lunged wildly. Jurgen tried to evade, he jumped sideways to escape, but Blackwood caught his leg, dragging him around with one hand and flinging him across the ground like a rag doll. He lunged once more, pinning Jurgen with overwhelming force as he pressed his hands against his face and throat.
Screams tore from Blackwood, not from pain, nor anything rational, but from having descended into a completely feral, senseless state.
Jurgen struggled under the immense pressure being exerted upon him. His hand instinctively pushed against Blackwood, trying his absolute best to force him off, but it seemed impossible. Blackwood's strength had increased drastically in this beast-like state. Jurgen's fingers burned with agony as he struggled, the bite wounds stinging with even the slightest movement, placing him in an almost impossible situation to escape from.
What made it worse was that Blackwood appeared to have gained regenerative capabilities — the bite mark on his chest had healed completely, meaning any attempt to deal lasting damage was effectively futile.
"Who's acting more like an animal now, you bastard!"
"RAAAHHHHH!"
Another roar tore from Blackwood as he exerted even more force on Jurgen's throat. Jurgen had exhausted almost all his strength in his attempts to push him away, his hand still pressed against Blackwood's face but now lacking any real force behind it. He was slowly losing consciousness.
All his struggle up until now, only to lose here in the most humiliating way possible.
The overwhelming pressure and disparity in strength were simply too much to contend with, especially combined with the damage he had already sustained. He stood no real chance in this state. At this moment, all he could do was pray for a miracle.
Dammit! I can't afford to lose here, the thought came in pent-up frustration.
He gritted his teeth painfully, the frustration gnawing at him worse than anything else. His eyes squeezed shut in pure strain before a harsh, gritted sound escaped him. A loud, visceral roar tore from his lungs as he struggled fiercely — there was no way in hell he would lose here, at least not like this.
"LET GOOOOOOOO!!!!"
The sound came from the deepest part of his lungs, nothing in his voice but raw, unrestrained frustration. It was so overwhelming he felt as though he could cry from the sheer intensity of it. His hand clawed bloodily at Blackwood's face, ignoring the sharp, stinging pain in his fingers. His body convulsed violently again and again as he writhed in a desperate, frantic attempt to escape, or at least to roll over, but it was futile.
"GAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH LET GOOOOOOOO — YOU BASTARD!!!"
The scream carried every ounce of pain and frustration he could muster. It dragged on so long that his voice cracked and strained as it faded, leaving a chilling effect that made everyone's skin crawl. Even the emperors could not fully hide their shock.
Kimura's eyes flicked toward Nemesio, as if to signal stopping the match before it went any further, but Nemesio halted him with a gentle raise of his hand. Whether it was for Jurgen's pride or his own inscrutable interest, it was impossible to tell. Jiro, on the other hand, had long since stopped his attack on Bubbles, both of them now watching the brutal struggle unfolding.
Jurgen's frustration had reached a breaking point. He slammed both hands onto Blackwood's face before driving his thumbs straight into his eyes with a desperate, agonized scream. Deep down, he hoped something this savage would finally force Blackwood to let go — but the bastard refused, tightening his grip instead.
Please… please let go, his thoughts pleaded as he continued to struggle.
He drove his thumbs deeper into Blackwood's eyes, a loud roar followed, puncturing them as blood spilled out. The pain forced Blackwood to loosen his grip slightly, allowing a desperate rush of air to flood Jurgen's lungs. Jurgen immediately seized the opportunity, pulling his lodged thumbs apart and dragging against Blackwood's eye sockets in a brutal, tearing motion. The pain became unbearable, and Blackwood finally recoiled, clutching his eyes as a scream tore from him.
Jurgen lay there on the ground, gasping for air, his face pale and faintly bluish from the lack of oxygen. His bloodied hands hung weakly while his elbows rested against the concrete. Blackwood continued to scream in agony, though steam began to rise from his eyes, indicating a healing process. Even so, it did nothing to lessen the pain he felt.
Jurgen gasped as he struggled to get up, resting briefly on one elbow. He stared with pure hatred, his eyes fixed solely on Blackwood, before staggering to his feet.
One arm swung loosely while the other braced against his knee for support. Some of the onlookers were too horrified to continue watching; at this point, it was no longer a simple tournament — it had devolved into something akin to a death match, where either of them could be killed at any moment.
The match had dragged on for too long and demanded a decisive victor. Otherwise, it would end in a tie where neither side prevailed, but Jurgen could not accept that. He wanted nothing more than to charge forward and capitalize on the opening he had created, yet no matter how much hatred consumed him, his desire to win outweighed it, forcing him to choose strategy over reckless impulse.
"Dammit it all!"
"Dammit it all…"
He cursed in mounting frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as he looked down at his battered state. He had no clear way to win this match — none at all — and Blackwood was already regaining his sight. If that recovery completed, there was no conceivable way he could win.
Jurgen searched frantically, desperately, for any solution, some method to overcome Blackwood, anything at all. It felt as though he was reaching for the impossible, hoping for a miracle as his thoughts churned and his frustration intensified.
"RAAAAAHHHHHHH!"