At that same moment, in the VIP observation box at the very top of the coliseum, several familiar faces had gathered.
Among them were Azazel, Sirzechs, and Michael—along with Vali standing behind Azazel, plus two other unfamiliar faces.
"Ahaha~ I guess we really do owe the audience an apology for this one."
Azazel maintained his usual carefree demeanor, legs crossed as he lounged on the sofa. He held a glass of Underworld sparkling wine, watching the battle unfold below while pulling at the corner of his mouth in mild amusement.
"The people scheduling matches probably didn't see this coming. They thought it'd be an epic clash full of suspense—never imagined it would be this one-sided."
"Ha! You really need to say that out loud?"
The moment the Governor of Fallen Angels finished speaking, a voice dripping with mockery chimed in from the side.
Following the sound, the speaker was a short-haired man wearing round sunglasses, also seated on the sofa watching the battle below. Behind those dark lenses, his slightly upturned eyes gave him an aggressive appearance. A red mark dotted the space between his brows, and a string of prayer beads hung around his neck.
It was hard to imagine someone who supposedly belonged to Buddhist circles sporting such a hip-hop aesthetic.
The sunglasses-wearing man tilted his chin up arrogantly.
"After all, that's someone who survived a serious fight with me. Devil King bro, your little lion brother is pretty impressive and all, but compared to that guy, he's still way out of his league. One word of advice... git gud?"
The kind of tone that immediately got under your skin.
"Indra..."
Azazel sighed softly, wanting to tell him to dial it back.
But before Sirzechs could respond, a black-haired young man standing behind him—holding a long spear and bearing a striking resemblance to Johann Chu from the Dragon Raja manga—spoke up coolly.
"Oh? So that's him..."
"Yep, yep—that's the one, that's the one~"
Indra flashed a brazen grin and shifted his gaze.
"What do you say, Cao Cao? Don't you always claim to be the pinnacle of human potential? Now that you've finally met another pure-blooded human like yourself, don't you want to go challenge him? Go ahead, go ahead—I won't stop you."
"Hmph..."
The young man called Cao Cao let out a soft, cold snort and turned toward the door.
As he passed Vali, he deliberately paused, a mocking smile curling at his lips.
"I heard the mighty White Dragon Emperor got beaten so badly he's scared now, hm? Well then—just sit here and watch how I defeat him."
With that, he strode out of the observation box, spear in hand.
Vali didn't bother acknowledging him. He simply let a faint, enigmatic smile form at the corner of his mouth.
❁❁❁❁
The scene shifted back to the dueling platform.
As Bokue withdrew his fist, the blood-drenched Sairaorg—golden armor shattered—immediately spewed a massive gout of blood from his mouth. His entire body lurched downward as he dropped to one knee on the ground.
"Urgh..."
Sairaorg gasped for breath in heaving gulps. With every exhale, more blood poured from his mouth.
He knew full well this was already the result of Bokue holding back considerably.
Yet even that restrained punch had nearly knocked Sairaorg unconscious on the spot.
The only reason he was still conscious wasn't because of any exceptional willpower—it was because Bokue had healed him fast enough.
After all, this was just a match. It barely even qualified as a spar. No need for lethal force.
"I'm... I'm fine... this is enough..."
Sairaorg coughed up another mouthful of clotted blood but firmly pushed the young man's fist away.
He could clearly feel waves of energy emanating from Bokue's fist, flowing into his body and mending his wounds.
In just those few seconds, the damage to his internal organs had already healed seventy to eighty percent. What remained were mostly injuries to muscle and bone.
"You sure about that?"
Bokue's tone rose slightly with a questioning "hm."
"Why not just heal everything at once? Save yourself the trouble of being carried off on a stretcher later."
"No... I want to hold onto this pain..."
Sairaorg struggled to lift his head. Through a face caked with blood, he managed what could hardly be called an attractive smile.
"Thanks to you holding back, brother-in-law, these remaining injuries to flesh and bone are nothing to us devils. Besides, this pain will motivate me to train even harder in the future."
"Personally, I think recovery periods are meant for resting..."
Bokue couldn't help but quip.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he let out a soft "oh."
"Speaking of which—Rias told me this morning before we came to Lilith. About your mother's Sleeping Sickness. After we're done here today, let's go see her together. I might be able to do something."
"Really? That would be—watch out!"
The smile of surprised joy on Sairaorg's face hadn't fully formed before it twisted into alarm. He shouted toward something behind the young man.
Almost simultaneously, a piercing whistle of something cutting through air came hurtling toward them.
But Bokue didn't even bother turning around. He simply shifted his body slightly to the side and raised his hand—without even looking—to catch the spear tip with pinpoint precision, stopping it dead in its tracks.
"...And you are?"
Only then did Bokue leisurely turn his head to look.
The newcomer was none other than Cao Cao, who had been in the VIP box moments ago.
"Cao Cao. Team [True Longinus]."
Cao Cao tilted his chin up arrogantly.
"Not the Cao Cao from the Three Kingdoms era you might know. I'm this generation's Cao Cao."
"True Longinus?"
Bokue slowly chewed over those vaguely familiar words.
"I see. I thought there was something familiar about you. You're one of Indra's people?"
"You could say that."
Cao Cao raised an eyebrow.
"I simply heard you survived a fight against Indra, so I was curious and wanted to challenge you—"
"Survived? That's how he described it?"
Bokue couldn't help but chuckle at the first half of that sentence. He looked up toward the VIP box at the top of the arena.
"Indra's here too? He's up in that box right now?"
"Yes—"
"Good."
Bokue responded with a single word before Cao Cao even finished his.
Then, with a casual flex of one hand, he wrenched the spear right out of Cao Cao's grip—leaving the young man staring in stunned disbelief.
After twirling it half a rotation in a flashy flourish, Bokue swept it horizontally like an executioner's staff—sending Cao Cao flying clean out of Lilith entirely. Then he casually tossed the spear after him.
"Here. I don't want it."
The next instant, Bokue vanished from the spot entirely.
Ten seconds later, when he reappeared on the dueling platform, a pair of round sunglasses now adorned his face. He stuck one hand in his pocket and waved toward the competitor lounge high above.
Looking back at the VIP box on the top level, one could now see Indra kneeling before the wall—his head shoved into it by brute force, unconscious. Thin trails of blood seeped from the cracks in the wall.
And on the intact wall beside him, four large characters had been written in blood.
—Git Gud.
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