"How are we supposed to handle this, Johan? Are we really going to entrust the next match to that man?" The President's voice was quiet, yet filled with unease.
Johan stared at Tiago, who was still standing in the middle of the arena: relaxed posture, head slightly tilted, as though he were enjoying the mocking cheers coming from both worlds.
"I'm uncertain too, sir," Johan replied heavily. "But for some reason… I have a little faith in his abilities."
The President merely let out a long sigh before hesitantly patting Johan's shoulder.
He then rose from his seat and slowly walked toward the central throne where Libra sat, positioned between the thrones of the President and The Ancient One. Johan followed behind him.
But before either of them could speak, The Ancient One spoke first. His deep voice echoed throughout the Celestial Colosseum, slicing through the silence beginning to settle.
"For the next arena… what is it that you desire, Humans?" he asked with a falsely cordial tone.
"And what weapons will you use? Axes? Swords? Or… merely those empty muscles of yours?"
The mockery in his voice was unmistakable.
He knew that if given the chance to choose the arena, Johan would surely design a battlefield advantageous to humanity. So he seized control of the conversation immediately, forcing it back into his own hands.
Johan was startled, but quickly tried to compose himself.
"I would like the arena to—"
Before he could continue, The Ancient One interrupted him with a quiet laugh.
"Hey, hey. I was speaking to him, not you."
"Or… would you like to replace him yourself, Human?" he continued slyly, narrowing his eyes mockingly. "Ah yes. You have a name, don't you? Johan."
Johan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.
Every strategy he had carefully prepared felt as though it collapsed instantly—destroyed by a single cunning sentence.
Meanwhile, Tiago lifted his head from the center of the arena. His voice rang out without a microphone, full of confidence and tinged with challenge.
"I want the arena to be…"
He paused briefly before flashing a crooked grin.
"Just like this. Plain. No rocks, no objects, no magic whatsoever."
The entire arena fell silent for a moment before erupting into booming laughter from The Ancient One.
"Hahaha! Magnificent! I am truly impressed by your courage, Human. You are indeed a true fighter."
The Ancient One stopped laughing and slowly raised one hand.
His eyes swept across the mythology stands—dragons, demons, elves, and forest giants alike. Then he gave a small nod, as though he had finally found something satisfying.
"And as for our representative…" he said, his voice growing heavier. "I believe I have found the perfect candidate."
The skies above the Colosseum suddenly rumbled.
Light from the western pillar twisted into a rapidly spinning golden vortex. From within that vortex came the sound of heavy footsteps, pounding against the ground like war drums.
Then a centaur emerged.
Its lower body resembled a massive black stallion, while its upper body was that of a man with skin like black pearl and long flowing hair. A giant bow rested in his hand, with arrows strapped proudly across his back. Every step he took left faint cracks across the marble floor.
The Ancient One smiled in satisfaction.
"Allow me to introduce him," he declared. "Asterion, guardian of the Skywood Gates. The archer capable of piercing stars and breaking the wings of angels."
Cheers from the mythology faction thundered like a storm.
Meanwhile, Tiago simply looked up at him from below. His lips curled into a sideways grin.
"Yeah, yeah. Horse or man, doesn't matter. Both fall the same when their knees get swept."
Libra slowly rose from her throne. Her long purple hair swayed gently, reflecting starlight from the tiny tiara woven into her hair.
She lifted the small golden scale in her left hand and gracefully lowered the right side of it—a sign that the match had officially begun.
The entire Celestial Colosseum fell silent.
The wind ceased. Birds drifting beneath the crystal sky froze midair. Even the sunlight itself seemed to bow in reverence.
Within that silence, Libra's soft voice echoed throughout every corner of the arena:
"The fourth match… begins."
A faint tremor spread beneath the spectators' feet. The marble floor shifted in color—not from magic, but from the clashing auras of the two fighters staring at one another fearlessly.
"Little human." The deep voice of Asterion the Centaur rumbled.
His body was enormous, chest broad, abdominal muscles as hard as steel.
"What weapon will you use?"
Tiago gave a faint grin, as though the question itself were nothing but a cheap joke.
He clenched his fists, revealing arms wrapped in bandages and packed with muscle.
"These."
Asterion stared for a moment before giving a short smile.
"That's all? Then it would be dishonorable for me to continue carrying this bow."
One of Tiago's brows rose.
Then Asterion continued.
"In that case, I too shall fight barehanded."
He lowered the massive bow from his grasp and handed the golden arrows to a fairy no larger than a young boy standing near the edge of the arena.
"You're really not using your bow?" Tiago stepped closer, casually patting the centaur's shoulder.
"I brought weapons too, you know."
He tapped his own arms again, his crooked smile radiating challenge.
Asterion nodded slowly.
"I am a guardian of the Forest of Peace. And I shall fight you fairly, Human."
His horse hooves stomped the marble hard enough to crack it. His pupils narrowed like those of a hunting beast.
"Oh?" Tiago lowered his posture slightly, sharp eyes glowing like embers. He loosened his wrists once more.
"Fair, huh? Let's see how fair the world really treats us."
Silence spread across the arena once again, but this time it felt heavier—like dark clouds gathering before a storm.
From the human stands, several faces looked tense.
Scientists and elite soldiers stared without blinking. Some wiped sweat from their brows, worried that the inexperienced man would only humiliate humanity.
Yet others smiled faintly instead.
They saw something hidden behind Tiago's eyes.
Not arrogance.
But a kind of confidence no training in the world could ever teach.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere among the mythology faction was entirely different.
Minotaurs laughed thunderously enough to shake the ground.
Sirens covered their mouths while stifling mocking laughter.
One young dragon even yawned, treating the match like casual entertainment before dinner.
Only Yue looked at him differently.
Her faint smile remained, eyes narrowed slightly, as though she sensed that the human was hiding something yet unseen.
Tiago lowered his stance further, legs spread wide, arms hanging loosely at his sides.
There was no elegant martial posture there.
Only a wild stance that looked wrong—yet dangerously threatening.
Meanwhile, Asterion tightened the muscles of his abdomen. His hooves dug into the marble floor as though even a storm could never shake his unwavering defense.
One stood with instincts born from the brutal streets of humanity.
The other carried the ancient honor of the mythological world.
And now, both faced each other in the center of the arena.