Fate: No One Plays the Villain Like I Do Chapter 234 60: Shame? Who Needs It!

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Like muffled thunder, the heavy impacts echoed as two bodies collided head-on, trading bone-crushing blows with raw combat skill.

Pankration, aning "all strength" or "complete power," was known as full-contact combat in the Greek world. In it, fighters could use boxing, wrestling, and any other technique at once, embodying the most primal clash of strength against strength.

In truth, many of its refined techniques ca from the accumulated battles of the Titans, retaining a great deal of brutality. This art, a contest of sheer strength and skill, was steeped in blood and ferocity. Death in the arena was common.

And precisely because of this, in the savage Age of Gods, the Titans adored it. King Kronos was its most zealous fan.

When he wasn't drinking, his favorite pasti was ordering gods, monsters, and Titans to beat each other bloody in pankration matches. rcy such as "friendship first, competition second" did not exist for him. Without a few deaths, could it even be called a contest?

Unless Kronos himself called for a halt, the combatants had no choice but to keep fighting, no matter how many had already fallen. They were truly gambling with their lives for his entertainnt.

Perhaps it was after witnessing such cruel and bloody contests that the old wolf in the fable—invited to feast on Mount Othrys in the na of divine enlightennt—was so terrified of the Titans' savagery that it fled back to the forests in fear.

Thus, when Samael—the slanderer bold enough to mock Kronos to his face—got his couppance, the centaur sage struck him with a storm of brutal, relentless blows.

But the ancient serpent raised his arms, blocking left and right, shuffling his steps, adjusting angles and stance like a reef standing firm amid crashing waves. Ti and again, he broke apart and deflected the surging assaults Chiron hurled his way.

At the sa ti, Samael looked for openings to launch ruthless counterattacks, striking slyly at Chiron's ears, throat, jaw, armpits, heart—every vulnerable spot he could reach.

Each ti fist t flesh, blood splattered, and the children of Typhon watching from the sidelines howled their support like a pack of wild beasts.

Even the delicate Gorgon sisters, Athena fad for her intellect, and the ever-serene Themis watched with keen interest, trading remarks and critiques as if enjoying a fine spectacle.

For Divine Spirits, born as a race of warriors, bloodlust and the pursuit of strength were carved into their very bones. The more one displayed overwhelming might in combat, the more admiration and attention they drew from the beings of the Age of Gods.

Boom! Boom!

Another pair of heavy blows landed, both fists smashing into their opponent's face at the sa ti. The impact sent the two staggering back.

"Pah!"

Samael rubbed his swollen cheek, spitting out blood mixed with two teeth, sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes burned with grievance.

"Teacher Horse, you really don't hold back at all."

Don't hold back?!

What about your sha? Did you just throw it away?!

We agreed on friendship first, competition second! Yet you're pulling more dirty tricks than ! And every ti we go head-to-head, I'm the one eating the loss!

It was supposed to be a fair brawl, but midway through you tried to exploit my lack of agility, circling around for a sneak attack. Never seen anyone so underhanded!

Chiron steadied his nearly shattered jawbone, shaking off wave after wave of dizziness with a sullen expression.

Fortunately, both possessed undying resilience. After a short pause, their fractured bones and torn muscles began to nd—exactly why they dared to unleash themselves so recklessly.

"That's enough for today. We'll call it a draw."

Samael stretched his limbs and waved a hand to end the fight.

"No need. I'll give you that jar of wine you had your eye on last ti."

Chiron, still holding his jaw, steadied himself and let out a muffled, irritated snort.

Themis, Goddess of Justice and arbiter of the match, gave a small nod and personally placed the laurel wreath—woven by the students—on the victor, Samael's head.

Both fighters had taken injuries, but the difference in severity was obvious. The sly serpent had mostly been hit in harmless spots, so he was already bouncing back. The centaur sage, however, was far worse off—barely halfway recovered and needing Stheno and Euryale to help him walk back to camp.

Still, Chiron wasn't surprised.

After years of facing Samael, he already knew this ancient serpent was more than just raw strength—the kind that could toy with Typhon's children. His combat skills were exceptional too.

Samael's strange and unfamiliar techniques had caught Chiron off guard countless tis. In the past, Chiron could rely on his experience to pull ahead, but as Samael closed that gap, wins grew fewer and losses piled up.

Seeing the centaur's frustration, the ancient serpent shot Ana a quick wink, lips curling into a knowing smile.

The real reason was simple: Samael had learned pankration from his old friend, King Leonidas of Sparta.

The Spartans traced their lineage back to Heracles himself. That hero had dominated the Olympic Gas, sweeping nearly every event and earning the title of "Champion of Champions." Among his many victories, the pankration crown shone the brightest.

To honor their ancestor, the Spartans embraced a fierce martial spirit. Combat tournants of every size were common in their city-state, and the techniques Leonidas inherited as king had been forged through centuries of refinent.

By that ti, gods were already beginning to fade into the background, while human heroes stepped into the spotlight. With ether in the world thinning and Mystery waning, heroes had to spend even more ti honing technique to raise their strength.

Thus, Greek martial arts evolved through generations of gods and n alike, becoming an upgraded form with power beyond its age.

And Samael hadn't stopped there. His other teacher, the feathered serpent Kukulkan, was a fanatic for martial arts.

Brazilian war dances, xican wrestling picked up through visions of the future—Samael had experienced them all firsthand, and Kukulkan had passed them down with care.

In short, these years hadn't been wasted. Beating Teacher Horse—never particularly skilled at combat—was sothing Samael could be confident in. Otherwise, a cunning snake like him would never have agreed to Chiron's challenge so readily.

But joy turned to sorrow. Just as he finished exchanging a sly glance with Ana, a clear, graceful voice rose from the stands.

"Teacher, after watching so many matches, I've gained so insights I'd like to test with you."

Athena stood, raised her hand, interlaced her fingers with a crack of her knuckles, and stepped forward with a bright smile.

Samael was about to make an excuse to wriggle out of this dragged-on sideshow when Themis, acting as arbiter, gave the slightest nod—approving the request for a second match on the spot.