Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 79: Amari vs Elias Vax (2)

Chapter 79: Amari vs Elias Vax (2)

The stadium was wild, the crowd roaring as the announcer’s voice boomed over the chaos.

"LOOK AT THIS! AMARI IS STRUGGLING TO KEEP UP WITH ELIAS VEX’S IMPOSSIBLE PRECISION!"

The cheers rolled in, the energy feeding into Elias’s relentless assault.

Amari was on the back foot, forced to react instead of control the fight.

Every time he tried to strike—Elias erased the inefficiencies.

Every time he tried to dodge—Elias removed the hesitation.

Every time he tried to counter—Elias was already ahead.

Amari gritted his teeth, frustration creeping in.

He had to change something.

He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight, tightening his grip on his Kusarigama.

If unpredictability wasn’t working, then he had to match Elias’s precision.

He moved faster, his attacks sharper, his movements refined—cutting out unnecessary motion, focusing only on efficiency.

The announcer caught on immediately.

"AMARI IS CHANGING HIS APPROACH! HE’S MATCHING ELIAS’S PRECISION! CAN HE TURN THIS AROUND?"

The crowd leaned in, anticipation thick in the air.

Amari lunged, his Kusarigama snapping forward in a clean, direct strike—no wasted movement, no excess force.

But Elias?

Elias was already ahead.

Elias smirked, eyes sharp, calculating.

He had already seen Amari’s adjustment.

Already anticipated it.

And now?

He was about to punish it.

Instead of simply erasing inefficiencies, Elias did something smarter.

He removed Amari’s ability to adapt.

Amari swung—Elias erased the possibility of a successful strike.

Amari dodged—Elias erased the space he needed to escape.

Amari tried to counter—Elias erased the timing required to land the hit.

And then—he forced Amari into a trap.

Elias stepped forward, closing the gap between them, his movements impossibly smooth.

Amari reacted—but it was too late.

Elias had already erased the possibility of escape.

His fist slammed into Amari’s stomach, the impact sharp, brutal, knocking the air from his lungs.

Amari stumbled, his footing slipping, his balance thrown off.

The announcer went wild.

"ELIAS VEX JUST SHUT DOWN AMARI’S ATTEMPT TO ADAPT! HE’S NOT JUST REMOVING INEFFICIENCIES—HE’S CONTROLLING THE FIGHT ITSELF!"

The crowd erupted, chanting Elias’s name, the energy in the stadium reaching a fever pitch.

Amari gritted his teeth, breath uneven, body aching.

He was losing ground.

And Elias?

Elias was just getting started.

The battle had reached its peak.

The crowd was wild, voices clashing in waves of excitement—some chanting Elias’s name, others starting to cheer for Amari despite their earlier jeers.

The announcer’s voice boomed over the chaos.

"THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE! AMARI IS STILL STANDING, STILL FIGHTING, BUT ELIAS VEX HAS CONTROLLED THIS MATCH FROM THE START!"

Elias felt it—the inevitability of his victory.

Amari had struggled, had adapted, had fought with everything he had, but Elias had been ahead every step of the way.

Until now.

Amari exhaled, rolling his shoulders, shaking off the tension.

Then—he smiled.

Elias narrowed his eyes.

Something was different.

Before Elias could even speak, before he could process what was happening—

Amari stepped forward.

Fast.

Too fast.

Faster than anyone in the venue could interpret.

Even Conrad—watching from the VIP section—couldn’t see him.

The crowd gasped, voices colliding in confusion, excitement, disbelief.

The announcer stumbled over his words, trying to keep up.

"WHAT—WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! AMARI IS MOVING—NO ONE CAN EVEN TRACK HIM!"

Smoke erupted, thick and sudden, swallowing the battlefield in a dense, suffocating cloud.

The stadium fell silent, the crowd questioning, murmuring, trying to understand what had just unfolded.

No one could see.

No one knew what had happened.

Then—slowly, the smoke began to clear.

And when it did—

The crowd froze.

Amari stood over Elias’s unconscious body.

The battlefield was silent.

The announcer—normally loud, energetic, always ready to hype up the fight—was speechless.

The crowd didn’t know how to react.

Some stared in shock.

Some cheered, voices rising in admiration.

Others booed, refusing to accept what had just happened.

But in the VIP section—

Conrad screamed.

A sharp, unrestrained shout of excitement, his voice cutting through the stunned silence, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Hans turned to him, eyes wide.

The nobles glanced over, surprised.

Conrad didn’t care.

He was grinning, his excitement undeniable.

The announcer finally found his voice, his words carrying over the stadium.

"AMARI WINS!"

The crowd erupted, cheers and boos colliding in a chaotic wave of sound.

Amari exhaled, rolling his shoulders, his expression unreadable.

He didn’t react to the cheers.

Didn’t react to the boos.

He just stood there, looking down at Elias, his victory absolute.

Amari stood over Elias’s unconscious body, posture relaxed, breathing steady—completely unfazed by the chaos that had unfolded.

Then—he smiled.

Not a grin of relief.

Not a smirk of arrogance.

A villainous smile, sharp and knowing, as if he had expected this outcome all along.

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at Elias, his voice calm but edged with amusement.

"You’re good," Amari murmured, his tone almost mocking in its casualness. "If you were more polished, I would’ve had a harder time winning."

The medics rushed onto the battlefield, carefully lifting Elias, checking his vitals, ensuring he was stable.

Amari didn’t spare them a glance.

He simply turned, walking away, leaving the arena without hesitation.

The announcer finally found his voice, excitement returning as he gestured toward the massive screens.

"AND THERE YOU HAVE IT! AMARI ADVANCES TO THE NEXT ROUND!"

The screen flashed, displaying Amari’s name, marking his progression in the tournament.

The crowd erupted, some chanting his name, others still refusing to accept his victory.

But Amari?

He didn’t care.

He was already heading back to his waiting room, his mind shifting toward the next battle, the next opponent.

Then—he crossed paths with Apollo.

Apollo was heading toward the arena, his expression sharp, focused, his body tense with anticipation.

He glanced at Amari, his gaze lingering for a moment before he spoke.

"You’re strong," Apollo admitted, his tone carrying both respect and challenge.

Amari smirked, meeting his gaze.

Apollo held the stare, refusing to let Amari have the last word.

Then—without another word—Apollo turned, heading toward his fight.

He couldn’t let Amari get one over him.

Not now.

Not ever.