Solo Cultivating in Superhero Academy
Chapter 110: Time limit

Chapter 110: Time limit

Elius didn’t reply.

He simply narrowed his eyes and sent all five swords spinning at once toward the beast’s neck, attempting a coordinated, devastating strike.

WHUM-WHUM-WHUM-WHUM-WHUM!

The air screamed as the swords blurred into silver comets.

The hippopotamus-man grunted, twisting his thick neck at the last second, letting the flat of the swords impact instead of the edge.

A huge shockwave exploded from the impact point, rattling the arena.

Dust and bits of shattered floor tile lifted into the air, swirling around the two fighters.

When the debris settled — the King of Beasts still stood there.

Bruised.

Bleeding slightly from the nose.

But smiling.

A slow, dreadful smile.

"Just wait..." he growled, voice dripping with savage glee. "Just wait till I get my hands on you."

Elius felt a brief twinge of irritation.

He hated arrogance from those who had no right to be arrogant.

Yet, he admitted, this creature had earned some of it.

Still, it was only durability.

Durability was not invincibility.

From above, Elius prepared his next pattern, adjusting the trajectory of his blades for a more lethal, more refined assault.

But before he could launch them, the beast-man did something unexpected.

The King of Beasts took a deep, rattling breath —

then he stomped the ground beneath him with all his monstrous strength.

BOOOOOOM!

The impact was cataclysmic.

The ground cratered, giant spiderweb cracks erupting outward.

Chunks of arena floor were flung into the air by the sheer force.

It wasn’t just an earthquake—it was a declaration of war.

Elius instinctively shifted his swords to create a defensive barrier, forming a shimmering ring of blades around himself.

But that was when he saw it.

Through the storm of dust and debris —

a hulking shadow rising—

The King of Beasts bent his knees, muscles bulging grotesquely, veins pulsing so violently it looked like his body might rip apart—

And then he leapt.

Straight upward.

A monstrous, earth-shattering leap aimed directly at Elius.

The hippopotamus-man soared through the air like a living cannonball, his massive arms outstretched, his face twisted in primal rage and glee.

"I’VE GOT YOU NOW, PRETTY BOY!!!" he bellowed.

Elius’s eyes flashed.

He had a fraction of a second to respond—and he already knew what to do.

The moment the King of Beasts launched upward like a cannonball, Elius reacted with terrifying precision.

He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, with a casual flick of his hand, he split his flying swords into two groups.

Four swords detached from their hovering orbit and zipped toward the airborne behemoth.

They weren’t aimed to injure, no.

Elius was far more devious than that.

The swords spiraled around the hippo-man like mischievous ghosts, weaving illusions and paths of false openings.

The hulking monster instinctively reached out, trying to swat or grab at them in midair —

and just like that, his balance shifted.

WHOOSH!

The heavy body twisted ever so slightly — enough that instead of a perfect tackle toward Elius, he missed by inches.

The edge of the beast’s rough skin grazed Elius’s arm, sending a jolt of pressure through his body — like being brushed by a passing truck —

but it wasn’t enough to knock him down.

And the monster?

Without a target to grab, the massive hippopotamus-man slammed into the ground with an earth-shattering...

BOOM!

The floor buckled beneath his sheer weight.

BLOOM!

Cracks rippled outward like violent spiderwebs.

Dust clouds exploded into the air, obscuring everything for a heartbeat.

But even amidst the swirling debris, Elius remained unruffled.

Hovering higher on his sword, he looked down sharply.

He expected the hippo-man to roar in anger, to charge blindly in rage —

but the arena was strangely silent.

Too silent.

Elius’s instincts flared.

He scanned the broken ground —

and saw it.

A thick, hunched shadow moving below.

The hippopotamus-human was crawling through the fractured ground like a predatory beast, using the gaping cracks and debris as cover.

Already, it was climbing the ruined terrain, aiming to jump again from below!

Before it could spring, Elius acted.

Without hesitation, he sent three of his flying swords flashing downward in an intricate pattern —

like ropes tripping a charging bull.

WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH!

The blades twisted at impossible angles, slicing at the creature’s ankles, calves, thighs —

not to cut — but to entangle.

And it worked beautifully.

The King of Beasts roared as his momentum was disrupted, his giant feet getting tangled between the whirling blades.

His leap misfired catastrophically.

Instead of an elegant launch toward Elius, he crashed forward with a heavy THUD, sprawling across the shattered ground.

"GAAAH!"

Snarling, the beastman tried again — he rolled to the side and pushed off, aiming to spring upward.

Elius was merciless.

He adjusted his swords again —

a fraction of a second faster this time —

tripping him mid-jump.

The King of Beasts tumbled awkwardly like a sack of bricks, crashing down hard.

BOOM!

The ground trembled violently with each impact, as though a giant meteor was pounding the earth over and over.

Dust and rubble rained down from the broken ceiling tiles above.

But the beast refused to give up.

Over and over, he attempted to climb and launch himself at Elius, and every time, Elius would shift his floating swords at precisely the right moment, causing him to stumble, fall, or misfire his jump.

It was like a cruel game of cat and mouse —

except Elius was the cat.

And he enjoyed toying with his prey.

Even as the mechanical female voice counted down the last seconds of the match, Elius kept misdirecting, tripping, harassing the poor beastman, who grew more and more desperate with each failed leap.

Finally, with a loud mechanical DING!, the timer ended.

Elius floated down slowly, riding his sword lazily like a man descending from a pleasant afternoon nap.

He landed gently on the ruined ground.

The King of Beasts, sprawled like a pancake in a crater of his own making, lay there panting heavily, sweat pouring from his thick body.

Elius waited.

And then —

unexpectedly —

the beastman laughed.

A deep, booming, rumbling laugh that shook his whole giant body.

"BAHAHAHAHA!"

He rolled onto his back, slapped his massive thigh, and then — with surprising gentleness for someone his size — staggered upright.

"You cheating little bastard!" he said, voice booming.

He stomped over to Elius and slapped him on the shoulder.

The blow was so strong it nearly dislocated Elius’s arm, but he managed to hide the wince.

"That was brilliant," the King of Beasts continued, wheezing between chuckles. "They have been saying for a long time now that they wanted to see if I could handle flying enemies... And you appeared... HA! You made me look like a clown!"

Elius smirked.

"For your own good," he said, nonchalantly dusting off his clothes.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" the beastman grinned. "Still hurts my pride though."

He gave a final snort of amusement, turned, and with surprising agility for someone so massive, lumbered toward the large black mechanical door from which he had come.

As he reached it, he threw a lazy wave over his shoulder.

"Good luck, pretty boy. Next one’s gonna be even worse."

The door hissed open with a mechanical CH-THUNK, and the hulking beast vanished into the shadows beyond.

Elius exhaled quietly, the smile slipping from his face.

The moment the King of Beasts left, Elius allowed himself to relax fully.

He sat cross-legged atop his hovering sword.

He closed his eyes.

Breathed in slowly.

And began to cultivate.

The flow of Spiritual Qi was sluggish at first, clogged by the adrenaline and battle-energy still roiling through his veins.

But he persisted.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He visualized a lake inside his dantian — murky, disturbed —

and with each calm breath, the waters stilled.

His Spiritual Qi, battered from constant sword manipulation and aerial maneuvering, began to recover.

It was a slow, painstaking process.

Threads of ambient energy from the shattered arena drifted toward him —

scattered motes of golden light, particles of life-energy left behind by the clash.

He absorbed them patiently, threading them into the broken patterns within his body.

Bit by bit, the jagged edges smoothed.

The fractures healed.

He fortified the wells of power inside him, making them deeper, more resilient.

Minutes stretched endlessly as Elius sat there, unmoving, breathing, recovering.

He focused entirely inward, shutting out the noise of the world.

Outside the circle of his perception, the arena creaked, repair drones began buzzing through the cracks, and somewhere distant, mechanical systems reset themselves for the next match.

But to Elius, there was only the steady, methodical recovery of his strength.

Finally — when he felt his reserves replenish enough for another battle — he opened his eyes.

Just in time.

The mechanical voice returned, echoing coldly through the ruined arena.

"Next opponent:"