A blue blade-light, almost impossible for the naked eye to track, tore through the air and slashed instantly toward Phryne's face.
Facing this peerless iaido strike, Phryne's distorted face didn't even have time to register shock; she relied solely on instincts driven by sheer, unadulterated rage.
"Gwaaaaah!"
Instead of dodging, she poured all her strength into her forward momentum, using her bloated yet iron-hard body to slam directly into the attack.
Clang—!
A piercing screech of metal on flesh erupted, so loud that many in the audience reflexively covered their ears. The magical mana-blade of Transient Moonlight struck Phryne squarely in the center of her torso.
However, the expected scene of flying flesh and blood did not occur.
The blade-wind, sharp enough to cleave through tempered steel, merely left a faint white mark on Phryne's tough skin. Not a single drop of blood seeped out.
"What?!"
"She blocked it? She took a combat skill point-blank with just her body?"
The stands fell into an uproar. Bete Loga of the Loki Familia narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed. "The level gap is too wide. What's the point of technique if you can't even break the skin?"
Aiz Wallenstein's frown deepened. She saw it clearly: Lynn's speed and precision were top-tier, yet the damage dealt was negligible.
On the ring, Phryne looked down at the mark on her chest. After a brief moment of surprise, she burst into an even more demented laugh.
"Gwa-gwa-gwa... Is that it? That all the strength you've got? You didn't even graze my hide, you little brat!"
Before her voice had even faded, her fist—deformed by rage and raw power—swung down toward Lynn's head with a terrifying wind pressure capable of shattering city walls! This punch was faster than anything her bloated physique should have been capable of.
Lynn's pupils constricted. Without time for conscious thought, the battle instincts of a Tarnished, tempered through countless deaths, took over his body. He kicked off the ground and leaped backward.
BOOM!!
The boulder-sized fist grazed the tip of his nose and smashed into the spot where he had just been standing. The reinforced stone arena acted as if it had been hit by a literal battering ram; it shattered instantly, leaving a shallow crater over a meter wide with stone fragments spraying in every direction.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. If that punch had connected, he would have been reduced to a meat paste.
Lynn landed and steadied himself, his expression turning solemn for the first time. He swung the Moonveil, closing in again. The blade traced a treacherous arc, aiming for Phryne's relatively vulnerable elbow joint.
Ding!
Another crisp sound. The blade met skin, and sparks actually flew! Only a faint white line remained on Phryne's arm. The physical resilience of a Level 6 was essentially a mobile fortress.
"Useless! Useless! USELESS!"
Phryne laughed maniacally, swinging the massive axe in her other hand in a wide horizontal sweep. Lynn held his blade horizontally to parry.
CLANG—!
An irresistible force surged through the sword. Lynn's arms went numb, and he felt as though he had been hit by a rampaging Minotaur. He was sent flying backward seven or eight steps, his feet plowing two deep furrows into the stone before he managed to stabilize himself. The webbing between his thumb and forefinger had split, and blood began to trickle down the hilt of his sword.
"Hahaha! Do you see? This is the gap between levels! In front of me, you're just a bug I can squash at will!"
Below the stage, Zanis was trembling with excitement, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Kill him! Lady Phryne! Crush him!"
The atmosphere in the stands shifted completely. Those who had held onto a glimmer of hope for Lynn now looked on with bleak pessimism.
"It's over... there's no way to fight this." "If he can't even break her defense, how can he win?"
Hestia was so anxious she was close to tears, gripping Bell's arm tightly. "Bell-kun, what do we do? Lynn-kun is..."
Bell was pale and speechless.
However, in the center of the ring, after the brief shock, Lynn's eyes quickly regained their cool.
Going head-to-head is suicide... the stats are too far apart. Scenes of facing gargantuan enemies in the Lands Between flashed through his mind.
In that case... I'll have to rely on percentage-based damage.
Lynn took a deep breath. In the gap of Phryne's laughter, he flicked his wrist. The blue-glowing Moonveil vanished instantly, replaced by an ancient-looking, longer, and heavier curved greatsword—the Bloodhound's Fang!
"He changed weapons?"
Everyone froze. How did he change them?
In that instant, Lynn's entire aura shifted. If he had been a lofty swordsman with the Moonveil, with the Bloodhound's Fang, he had transformed into a beast lying in wait.
He lowered his center of gravity. The next second, he became a blurred afterimage.
Bloodhound's Step!
"Trying to run?" Phryne sneered, swinging her axe like an out-of-control tank as she charged again!
But just as the axe was about to cleave him, Lynn's figure turned ethereal and ghostly, passing directly through the trajectory of the blade. Simultaneously, the Bloodhound's Fang followed his forward momentum, sweeping upward in a brilliant arc of steel!
Squelch!
This time, it wasn't the sound of a crisp collision, but the dull thud of a blade biting into flesh. The Bloodhound's Fang—far heavier and more specialized in rending than the Moonveil—finally broke Phryne's defense, carving a small gash into her thick thigh.
Though the cut was shallow, it successfully breached her skin, and beads of blood seeped out. A faint, nearly imperceptible stream of red warmth flowed from the wound, through the blade, and into Lynn's body, quietly mending the split webbing of his hand.
"Raaaagh!"
Phryne roared in pain and spun around with another axe swing. Lynn repeated the tactic; the Bloodhound's Step activated again. His figure flickered, appearing once more in her blind spot, and he delivered another backhanded slash, adding a new mark to her back.
"Stop running!"
Phryne was like a maddened beast, swinging her giant axe with earth-shaking force. Every strike pulverized the arena, creating a never-ending roar of crashing stone. Lynn, however, was like an elusive phantom dancing through a hurricane. He was on the left, then the right, always managing to dodge the most lethal strikes with impossible footwork, delivering "minor" but bleeding cuts in return.
The audience was stunned. What is this? Kiting?
"Dodging and hiding! You damned rat! Just let me catch you once!"
Unable to land a hit, Phryne fell into a total frenzy. Her logic was consumed by the accumulating wounds and an endless sense of humiliation. "JUST DIE!"
She stopped chasing. She slammed her axe into the ground and lifted her massive foot, stomping down with all her might!
BOOM—!
A visible shockwave radiated from her. The entire arena shook violently, and countless stone fragments were launched into the air like shrapnel, spraying in all directions! It was an indiscriminate Area of Effect (AoE) attack.
Lynn dodged through the rain of stone, but a fist-sized fragment broke through his path, grazing his forehead. A bloody streak appeared, and warm blood flowed down his cheek, instantly staining half of his vision red.
"Lord Lynn!" Lili shrieked from below, her heart tightening.
However, Lynn didn't seem to feel the pain. He wiped the blood from his face, his eyes brighter and calmer than ever before. He could feel it. Phryne's breathing was becoming labored. The power behind each axe swing was weakening by a minute fraction.
More importantly... a certain red "status bar" in his mind was about to be filled.
Just a few more hits.
The moment Phryne revealed a triumphant sneer because her AoE had finally connected, Lynn moved again. He dropped low, becoming a shadow hugging the ground.
Bloodhound's Step!
"Gwa-gwa! You want to run now that you're hurt? Too late!"
Phryne was still basking in the joy of finally wounding Lynn. She was panting heavily, her movements a hair slower than her peak, but she still swung her axe toward where Lynn had vanished, trying to force him out with raw destruction.
Boom! Rumble!
The stone slabs of the ring were upended in large chunks, and dust filled the air.
However, a second later, a cold killing intent exploded from her back—her absolute blind spot! Lynn appeared like a wraith born from the shadows. The Bloodhound's Fang carried a frigid arc of light, striking precisely into the deepest wound on her right thigh!
Squelch!
This time, the sound of the blade entering flesh was heavy and deep. The Bloodhound's Fang sank nearly entirely into Phryne's rock-hard muscle!
"Ow...?"
Phryne's manic laughter stopped dead. Her body went stiff, as if she hadn't yet processed why this specific attack felt so heavy.
Then, a sudden anomaly occurred!
Spurt! Spurt! Spurt-spurt-spurt—!
As if by a chain reaction, a series of small, wet explosions erupted from all over Phryne's body. Every single "insignificant" cut Lynn had made with the Bloodhound's Fang suddenly geysered a thick, concentrated mist of blood!
In an instant, Phryne was enveloped in an eerie, crimson haze!
Hemorrhage Effect: Proc!
"GWAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"
A scream so shrill it sounded sub-human erupted from the center of the blood mist, echoing through the entire stadium! It was a pain born from life force being violently torn away—an internal collapse that a tough physique could not guard against. The massive vitality provided by her Level 6 status didn't protect her; instead, it acted as fuel for the agony.
In the face of percentage-based damage that ignores defense, a "meat shield" and a "glass cannon" are essentially the same!
In the stands, everyone stood up in shock at this sudden, grotesque scene.
"What is that?!" "Why is she suddenly spraying blood from everywhere?!" "Is it a curse? Or some special magic?"
On the ring, Lynn was pushed back two steps by the force of the blood explosion. However, a warm stream of red energy flowed through the Bloodhound's Fang and into his body.
Rykard's Taker's Favor!
The bleeding wound on his forehead stopped instantly, mending before their eyes. Even the split in his hand healed, leaving no trace of pain. He flicked the blood—blood that wasn't his—off his blade with a nonchalant grace.
As the mist cleared, Phryne's figure was revealed. She was still standing, but her massive frame was shaking uncontrollably. She was drenched in blood, looking like she had just been fished out of a slaughterhouse vat. Her previous arrogance had withered to nothing.
She stared blankly at her blood-covered hands, her face filled with a confusion and disbelief that far outweighed her physical pain. "No... impossible... My body... I'm Level 6... how could you..."
Her voice was raspy and weak, the sound of a pride utterly shattered by reality.
Lynn pointed the tip of the Bloodhound's Fang toward the ground, his tone as flat as if he were stating a boring fact. "Being a high level doesn't mean you're invincible."
His gaze was cold, devoid of mercy. "As long as you have a health bar that can bleed, I have plenty of ways to deal with you, you old hag."
"Old... hag?"
Phryne's pale, distorted face turned a deep shade of purple. It wasn't from shame, but from the purest, most primal rage born of her greatest insecurity being touched.
"What... did you... call me?"
She squeezed the words out through her teeth, her voice sounding like a broken bellows. Her eyes, previously full of daze, were consumed once more by bloodshot madness.
"GWAAAAAAARGH—!!!"
With a piercing shriek, Phryne squeezed out every last drop of her remaining strength! She abandoned all defense, ignored her weeping wounds, and charged like a cornered beast, swinging her axe in a final, suicidal lunge!
But to Lynn's eyes—eyes that had witnessed countless moments of life and death—this "last-ditch effort" was full of openings. It was laughably slow.
"Too slow."
Lynn didn't even blink. The moment Phryne reached him, his figure became a ghostly afterimage again.
Bloodhound's Step!
Instead of pulling away, he cut into Phryne's flank at an impossible angle. The Bloodhound's Fang, like a serpent's tooth, traced several cold arcs through the air.
Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!
The sound of the blade rending muscle rang out in rapid succession. Phryne's charge stopped dead. She stood there twitching like a puppet with its strings tangled. Her thighs, waist, and back were instantly marked by seven or eight more deep wounds.
The wounds themselves weren't fatal, but their effect was. Phryne let out a muffled groan; she felt her strength draining away even faster than before. She tried to swing her axe, but her arms felt like they weighed a thousand tons. She tried to move, but her legs felt like lead.
Lynn stopped beside her and watched.
The next second.
SPURT—!!!
A blood mist, even more violent than the first, erupted from every single wound on Phryne's body simultaneously!
This time, she didn't even have the strength to scream. Her massive body swayed, her knees buckled, and with a heavy thud, she collapsed onto the stone ring covered in rubble and gore. The giant axe slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor.
Second Hemorrhage Proc!
This strike completely drained her of the capacity to resist.
The stadium was deathly silent. Everyone stared with mouths agape at the massive figure kneeling in a pool of blood, then at the black-haired youth who was unharmed, his breathing not even slightly labored.
Is... is it over?
Below the ring, the feverish excitement on Zanis's face had long since frozen into an ashen mask. He slumped to the ground, whispering incoherently, "No... impossible... Lady Phryne..."
"It's not over yet."
Lynn's calm voice broke the silence. Under everyone's shocked gaze, he flicked his wrist, and the miracle-working Bloodhound's Fang vanished. Then, he slowly raised his right hand and made a grasping motion.
Whoosh—!
A cluster of dark red flames, looking like a mixture of lava and vengeful souls, ignited in his palm! The flames stretched and solidified into a terrifying shape!
A monstrous, broad Greatsword, covered in grotesque, writhing spiral patterns, was born from the flames. He gripped it firmly.
The Blasphemous Blade.
The moment the sword appeared, a terrifying aura of heat and omen swept through the arena like a tide! The dark red flames burning on the blade were no longer pure energy; they felt alive, breathing hungrily, as if seeking to devour all life force in the vicinity.
"What... what is that weapon?!" "It feels so evil... just looking at it makes my skin crawl!"
Finn Deimne's expression was more serious than it had ever been. Riveria and Gareth beside him were equally horrified. They could feel that the power contained in that sword had surpassed the realm of mortal weaponry.
That sword... it looks like the one the Great Serpent used. When did he get it?
Kneeling on the ground, Phryne instinctively looked up. When her gaze met the sword burning with "Taker's Flames," her pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks!
That sword! Her brain, previously filled with rage and brute force, finally recalled the horrific experience of having her life force drained.
"No... no... don't come near me..."
She was scared. Completely, utterly terrified. She scrambled backward, issuing a raspy, trembling plea.
Lynn ignored her. He held the Blasphemous Blade with both hands, the heavy tip dragging across the stone with a scraping sound.
Step. Step.
With steady, oppressive strides, he walked toward the broken Phryne.
"You said earlier," Lynn's voice was soft, yet it carried clearly to everyone in the stadium, "that you were going to make me kneel and beg for mercy?"
The moment the words fell, he was standing before Phryne. He raised the Blasphemous Blade high!
"NO!" Phryne shrieked in despair.
BOOM!!
The massive blade, carrying the momentum to incinerate all things, slammed down onto her right shoulder!
Sizzle—!
The nauseating sound of burning flesh rang out. The dark red Taker's Flames enveloped her wound like a living thing, ravenously devouring her vitality. A visible stream of red energy was pulled from the wound, merged into the flames, and flowed back into Lynn. Lynn felt his stamina—exhausted from the repeated Bloodhound's Steps—recover almost instantly.
Phryne's wound didn't bleed; it was just a mass of charred, necrotic flesh.
"GWAAA!"
The pain drove Phryne mad. She used her remaining left fist to swing at Lynn with everything she had. Lynn didn't dodge. He delivered a backhanded sweep! The flat of the Blasphemous Blade met her fist.
BAM!
Phryne's fist hit the sword like it had struck a white-hot branding iron. Her skin charred instantly, and her bones creaked with the sound of fractures.
"Second strike."
Lynn was expressionless. He swung the Greatsword again, the broad blade carving directly across her bloated stomach! The Taker's Flames erupted once more, forcibly extracting more life force to invigorate Lynn's aura.
"Spare... spare me..." Phryne was completely broken. She abandoned all resistance, collapsing into a heap and begging in a voice that was practically a sob. Tears and snot covered her face; there was not a trace of her former arrogance.
Lynn looked down at her, his eyes as cold as frost. He slowly raised the Blasphemous Blade, aiming it at her head.
The stadium was silent as the grave. Everyone held their breath, expecting a bloody execution.
However, the expected decapitation didn't happen.
CLANG—!
Lynn's sword slammed down, grazing Phryne's cheek, and buried itself deep into her discarded axe! The sturdy giant axe was as fragile as rotten wood before the Blasphemous Blade; it was severed in two instantly.
Phryne shivered violently from the gust of the strike, turning into a puddle of mush.
Lynn withdrew the sword and placed the tip, still burning with ominous flames, lightly against her throat. The heat made her skin sizzle, and she could smell her own flesh burning. She didn't dare move. She even stopped breathing.
"Surrender."
Lynn's voice rang out. Like a divine oracle, it echoed through the silent arena.
"I... I surrender!"
"The match is decided!"
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