As the crowd grew restless, murmurs of impatience rippled through the stands. The na "Apollo" was on everyone’s lips, but no one seed to recognize him as he casually strolled through the main entrance. With his calm and unassuming deanour, he blended in with the spectators, looking more like a curious onlooker than the challenger everyone was eagerly anticipating.
Tyros, standing confidently at the centre of the arena, glanced around, his smug expression starting to waver as ti passed without Apollo showing up. His followers exchanged uncertain glances, whispering amongst themselves.
Apollo, anwhile, quietly observed the arena from within the crowd, taking in the atmosphere and sizing up his opponent. He could hear the crowd’s buzz, so people wondering when the infamous Apollo would show up, others betting on whether he would be a no-show.
Finally, he slowly walked to the arena, causing the crowd to be surprised, and they beca silent. As with every step, Apollo’s aura seems to climb, putting pressure on everyone. Even Tyros, who was proudly standing in the arena, felt it, and his expression couldn’t help but change.
There didn’t need to be an introduction, as the crowd instantly guessed who the mysterious person was walking towards the arena.
This was the man who had issued the challenge—Apollo.
Nobody knows his strength, but as a ranker, rumours of his strength and talent had spread far and wide, but seeing it firsthand left no room for doubt that he is strong.
As Apollo reached the centre of the arena, he stopped, his gaze locking onto Tyros. The air between them crackled with tension, and for a mont, it felt as though the entire arena had frozen in ti, awaiting the clash that was about to unfold.
"Haha, this brat is finally here, and he seems to have beco stronger. Tyros is going to be totally fucked and would have nightmares of this day." Master Aaron laughed as he looked at the disciple, who seed to be a little different and more ethereal, feeling the bad luck of Tyros.
Alyona standing beside also nodded, as it seed Apollo had beco stronger even if there was a one in a billion chance for a miracle to happen now, even though that had disappeared.
As the arena held its breath, excited to see what this battle will show them.
Tyros, who had been brimming with confidence earlier, felt a cold sweat break across his skin as Apollo’s aura intensified. His instincts scread danger. The smugness drained from his face, replaced by a mixture of shock and dread. This wasn’t the Apollo he had been expecting.
As Apollo and Tyros faced each other, the atmosphere grew heavy, like the calm before a violent storm. Tyros clenched his fists, his eyes darting nervously, knowing that everyone was watching him, expecting him to prove his worth as a Vice Head of the Salvation Society.
"You should’ve stayed hidden, Tyros," Apollo’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. Though he spoke softly, his words carried the weight of certainty, echoing in the ears of Tyros.
Apollo’s eyes glowed faintly, and Tyros could feel it. The gap between them wasn’t just in strength—it was in essence. Tyros had underestimated him, and now he was standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into the abyss.
"Ready or not," Apollo said, his voice low but commanding, "let’s end this quickly."
The mont stretched, the anticipation unbearable, before the battle finally erupted in a flash of raw power.
Boom!
Without warning, Tyros unleashed a massive fireball, three ters in diater, streaking towards Apollo with blazing intensity. The heat alone made the air ripple, and many in the crowd gasped, thinking this would be a powerful opening strike.
But Apollo didn’t even flinch. With a single, fluid step, he effortlessly dodged the attack, moving with such grace that it appeared as if the fireball had been nothing more than a child’s toy thrown at him.
Tyros’ expression tightened, but it seed he had expected his initial attack to fail. Without hesitating, his aura surged violently, and a dark, fiery energy began to radiate from him. His strength seed to multiply within seconds, his power swelling as though sothing inside him was igniting. His muscles tensed, and his eyes glowed with a manic intensity.
The crowd was visibly stunned by the sudden increase in Tyros’ power. Many believed they were finally witnessing his true strength, the power that earned him his reputation. But among the more seasoned experts in the audience, there were furrowed brows and sceptical murmurs.
"This... this isn’t right," one of them muttered. "His energy is too unstable, too erratic."
"Is it a desperate move?" Another expert added, eyes narrowing. "He’s either burning his life force or using so dangerous potion to temporarily boost his strength. But that power is not sustainable."
But they were surprised because he directly used such ans, making it clear that he wanted to quickly end the battle.
"Damm!" He knew from the start he wasn’t an opponent of Apollo, so he begged the young master to give him so ans to battle or even to win, and the lord, after his begging, gave him this.
Tyros had no idea where the strange seed ca from, or how the young lord managed to acquire it, but ever since he swallowed it, it had given him an unnatural power. He could feel it inside him—a volatile force waiting to be unleashed. When pushed to the brink, all he had to do was channel his life force into the seed, and it would grant him terrifying strength, far beyond his normal limits.
The problem was, it ca at a price. Every ti he used it, he could feel it eating away at his vitality, like a fla that consud his very life to fuel its destructive power. But at this mont, facing Apollo’s overwhelming presence, Tyros didn’t care about the cost. He needed to win—needed to show his strength.
So, without waiting, he used it imdiately when he was in the best condition to bring out the most of it and end it as quickly as possible.
His aura exploded in a violent surge, raw energy radiating from him in waves as his power climbed. His muscles bulged unnaturally, and veins throbbed under his skin, pulsing with an otherworldly glow.
With the violent aura, he burst out his fiery fire life force and attacked with destructive skills.
"Fiery Explosions!"
Tyros roared; although he was feeling uncomfortable, he was still excited by the power he gained after using the seed. He eagerly anticipated crushing Apollo beneath his attacks—but his dreams were shattered in an instant.
Slappp!
The sudden, resounding noise echoed through the arena, freezing the once-boisterous crowd into stunned silence. As Apollo was standing beside Tyros, Bitch slapped him in a fraction of a second, shocking them to the core with a sudden twist that they hadn’t imagined.
Not only the crowd, but even Tyros couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. One mont, he was dreaming of defeating Apollo. The next, Apollo was standing beside him, having moved so fast, Tyros hadn’t even noticed—let alone felt the slap. And now, in front of thousands of trialists, he stood humiliated.
He couldn’t comprehend even after the slap, and his mind was still blank, but Apollo’s voice brought him back.
"You are too slow, and what with roaring and all dramatic effects, would it change the outco, idiot?" Apollo’s sarcastic words made him feel more humiliated and filled him with anger and hate that he was ready to burn half of his vitality to destroy him. But his thoughts were stopped midway as one after another loud noise of slap echoed throughout the arena.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
Each slap resounded like thunder, sending shockwaves through the crowd. Slap! Slap! Slap! Apollo’s hand blurred as it struck Tyros repeatedly, faster than anyone could follow. The onlookers sat frozen, mouths agape, unable to process what they were witnessing.
Tyros, once proud and arrogant, now found himself being rcilessly beaten—not by a barrage of spells or powerful strikes, but by simple slaps. Each slap was a brutal reminder of just how helpless he was in front of Apollo.
His fiery aura and explosive power were useless, as though they were re toys in the face of a true warrior.
Apollo didn’t even seem angry; his movents were calm, his expression cold, yet each slap carried a terrifying force. It wasn’t just about the physical pain, but the utter humiliation Tyros was experiencing in front of the entire arena.
"You think power alone is enough?" Apollo’s voice rang out between slaps, each word punctuated by another sharp sound. Slap! "You thought so fire tricks and roars would intimidate ?" Slap! "That you trash who survive oppressing weak could stand against with this half-baked strength?" Slap! Slap!
Tyros, unable to react, stumbled with each hit, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his face swollen and red. His eyes were wide with terror, not anger anymore. The confidence he had displayed earlier had evaporated, replaced by sheer desperation.
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