Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

Chapter 1093: Suddenly Frozen

What did they call him? He should have listened when the fairy announced their names, but he was too focused. He had been ready to unsheathe his blade and cut the other apart the moment she announced the beginning of the fight.

Ultimately, he had only made a single step and started his technique, when the other pulled an old sword from his belt and he lost all senses. His technique failed and he suffered a slight recoil, but it wasn't important. He had to come up with something...

However, intrusive thoughts kept interrupting him. How long had it been since he was trapped in this darkness? Why didn't the other attack already? Was he mocking him? How did this look from the outside? He would make the old man pay for this humiliation.

The last thought led back to what he was supposed to do and he suddenly thought it was a brilliant idea to unleash his ultimate technique. if he simply destroyed the whole stage, he HAD to hit his opponent! He had wanted to hold back initially, but hiding his strength wouldn't work out if he died here and now.

He was just collecting his energy to follow this plan, when he felt a slight sting in his forehead. When he woke up again, he stood in a white, clean room. His senses were back and he immediately realized that he was no longer in the arena...

“What happened?” he mumbled exasperatedly not expecting an answer, but it came.

“You lost, honey,” the answer came from an older lady wearing a white uniform.

...

The fourteenth match was probably the weirdest yet. The cultivator who went by the moniker of the Quick Blade had suddenly frozen after only taking a single step. he was looking around in flight, obviously seeing things the audience could not.

When he stopped his opponent, an old man from Y-City simply strutted forward to end him. He was a blind old man, but he was also known as the Chosen of Hodr, the god of darkness and warriors. Although he had shown no overwhelming performance before, he had gotten through the preliminaries without a scratch, despite being blind.

Within a minute after the fight started, the Chosen of Hodr had leisurely inserted his unmaintained-looking sword into the head of his opponent, without experiencing even the slightest resistance from the cultivator.

The whole sequence was outright eerie and disturbed the audience, so much so, that the old man left the arena in silence after being announced the victor. The people were still too out of it, to cheer for the winner who strolled back to his private room.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Alright, who is ready for the last battle of the day?” Umi broke the awkward silence cheerfully. “We have another two stars for our final match of the day. You know him from the 23rd round of the Preliminaries, Count Nox, the Crimson Shadow!” she introduced the first contestant.

A man wearing a wine-red, intricate coat walked to the stage. He was sickly pale and had a pronounced pair of canines. One didn't have to witness his debut to recognize him as a vampire. The count in his title was no empty title but identified him as a noble vampire

The incredibly handsome vampire was not bothered by the rays of sunlight peeking through the breaking cloud cover. The audience readily cheered for the uncommon sight. Although vampires were generally disliked, Noble Vampires had a standing as demi-humans in the Chrona Empire.

Whereas Count Nox was known for his pearly white smile during the preliminaries after killing almost the opposing players himself, he wasn't in the mood to act for the audience, as he looked forward to his opponent.

With heavy steps, Ibelin Godfrey entered the arena. The normal image of a knight, or a knight class, in people's minds, was that of a man in heavy plate armor. Most tanks wore it too. However, after seeing Ibelin Godfrey this changed.

His equipment differed from that normally associated with tanks or knights. He wore long, silvery mail, covered by a surcoat displaying his coat of arms. Heavy gauntlets covered his hand and the menacing-looking great helm hid his face. There was a simple arming sword at his belt and a medium-sized shield on his back.

Despite not fitting the traditional image of a knight as popularized by the system, he simply emanated the quintessence of a knight. That was until the battle began. If Seth had to give a comment about Ibelin Godfrey, then probably that he was the most unique person from Ypselon he had seen so far.

Everything about him was perfectly min-maxed for his class and fighting style. His equipment was all epic with simple specialization in raising his defense and the power of holy skills. In addition, they all had the additional comment (Blessed) behind their name.

“Since both contestants are ready, let the final fight of the day- Begin!” Umi Kaldrops announced the start of the first day's final fight, the 15th match of the first round. Ibelin's image of a knight immediately shattered, when he pulled out his signature weapon, which he used to mow down his opponents in the preliminaries.

“Deus Vult!” Ibelin exclaimed in a deep voice.

The roars of his magic minigun, dubbed the Bonesaw by chat, filled the stadium and the audience reinvigorated their poltern. Unlike Adam Clarke, who was a marksman specialized in agile and stylish gun kata and hand-to-hand combat that relied on fast switching between handguns and rifles, Godfrey was a human gun turret.

For the ordinary observer, the noble Vampire had met his worst enemy, because Ibelin Godfrey was not just a simple knight, but the chosen of an undisclosed god of light, carrying the unique class of a Holy Cannoneer, a mix of Marksman and Holy Crusader, as well as Paladin of Light.

Ibelin's wave of bullets that had proven hard to dodge during the preliminaries, brought an aura of divine punishment with them, as they were all blessed by the holy crusader. If the vampire was to be hit, the wound would be hard to heal even for the supernatural high-speed regeneration of a high-rank vampire.

Although the outcome seemed predictable, the audience was still ecstatic. A balanced, high-octane fight got them just as roused as a brutal, one-sided beatdown. Even happier were they, when things did not turn out as expected.

Unlike the participants in the preliminaries, Nox was prepared. Using his supernatural reflexes he dodged the stream of bullets by observing the direction of the barrel and turning his body into mist at times.

While he evaded the bullets he cast waves of blood magic and curses at the crusader. Stationary as he was, he was an easy target. But there was a reason he didn't bother dodging, all of the vampire's attack glanced off an invisible shield, spewing golden sparks when hit.

Now they were in a standoff. One kept dodging, while the other was immune to attacks. And suddenly, the buzzing of the minigun fell silent. Had the Crusader run out of ammo? Was it possible? Nox saw his chance, rushing at the knight, wielding a dark sword, covered in crimson magic, he intended to slash through the shield and kill his opponent in one move.

However, the crusader had simply changed his gun. By the time the vampire reached Ibelin, he stared down the barrel of a machine gun.

“Parry this, filthy casual,” the shot echoed through the stadium.

Nox tried, but the sword exploded in his hands and so did his head.

...

“Well done. It seems like Clarke's fate was a good reminder?” an irritating voice rang from the communication orb. The old man frowned at the orb in his hands but stayed silent.

“Haha, I'm just joking. You know I am! I always trusted that you would make it. Don't forget to take our little present before you draw your lot for the next round,” the voice at the other end insisted.

“I understand, so don't contact me again.”