Chapter 82: Old Friendships are Complicated

  Later in the evening...

  The roar of three hundred thousand devils had reached a fever pitch—a tidal wave of sound that physically vibrated against the amphitheater’s ancient stone. In the center of the sandy arena, Justinian stood tall over his opponent from the 61st dimension, who had just collapsed into unconsciousness. Despite the obvious disparity in their cultivation bases, the man had fought like a maniac, seemingly devoid of any basic survival instinct.

  Feeling a chilling gaze boring into him throughout the fight, the young human had no doubts as to why his opponent had been so desperate.

  'That damned Ericus is still watching me.'

  It had been unsettling enough earlier—the Voivode was on a completely different power scale—but having a madman’s eyes constantly fixed on him was another matter entirely. Justinian could only shake his head as he began the walk back toward the 66th dimension’s stands.

  The crowd cheered wildly, though there was a visible divide compared to previous days; hateful jeers still peppered the applause.

  Voivode Ericus, however, was not the only one watching with keen attention. Envidius, from the observer team, was doing the same.

  "Do you truly believe it is wise to allow those kinds of foundations into the finals?"

  The handsome, white-haired devil showed no outward hostility, but he was clearly dissatisfied with how the last bout had ended. Micromegas, sitting opposite him, took a moment to weigh his answer.

  "Everything is in accordance with the rules set by the King of Names and Symbols. Who am I to question his will?"

  "Wouldn't it be bett—"

  Envidius was interrupted by a strange, echoing tremor that both devils felt in the distance. It caused the Voivode of the 60th dimension to rise to his feet without delay.

  "It seems our discussion must be put on hold. Despite the passing of thousands of years, an old, annoying acquaintance of mine still doesn't know when to quit."

  Turning to the young observer, he met his eyes and said:

  "There is no reason to halt the competition. I trust you can fill my seat in my absence."

  "Naturally."

  Seeing that Envidius had no objections, Micromegas traced a glowing sigil of a balanced scale in the air—a parting sign—and vanished. The young devil watched the arena for a moment until he felt the distant echoes of two great powers colliding. Then, his attention turned toward the drawing mechanism.

  "Wouldn't it be a waste to proceed to the finals without a meaningful struggle?"

  Before Dolovarius could protest, Envidius poured a significant amount of energy into the mechanism governing candidate selection. The human—whose cultivation and general manner had irritated him moments ago—had just finished his duel and was in no condition to fight again immediately.

  'That doesn't mean, however, that he is the only one who needs to be taught a lesson.'

  An image of Septima flashed through his mind—the she-devil from the 66th dimension who had appeared at this grand ceremony with a sealed cultivation. To avoid revealing her true self, she relied on efficient hand-to-hand combat, refusing to show any techniques. The young observer considered this a blatant deception and an insult to the Lord of Hell.

  'Fortunately, there are ways to level the playing field, regardless of cultivation.'

  His gaze fell upon a devil from the 65th dimension who had previously defeated his opponents with a specific, specialized technique. He smiled maliciously as the arena speakers announced the next pair of fighters.

  "Didko of the 65th dimension versus Septima of the 66th dimension!"

  The crowd erupted with enthusiasm, chanting for their favorites. In Micromegas's booth, however, a long sigh echoed.

  "Interfering may bring unwanted complications," Dolovarius warned.

  Envidius bowed respectfully toward him. "I am prepared to handle the consequences. Shouldn't we support these pathetic dimensions with our wisdom during this mission?"

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  At first, there was only silence, until a small ripple of warning moved through the air.

  "Still, you should remember that unnecessary ambition is a trait better suited to provincials..."

  A loud laugh, inaudible to the crowds below, cut the leader of the Observers off mid-sentence.

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  It was Her Highness Alia. Envidius's heart skipped a beat. Even though her departure was imminent, she still held immense political weight, and her sheer beauty was enough to stir blissful reflections in anyone.

  'If I could only win her support during this mission...'

  The young she-devil’s cold voice punctuated her earlier interruption.

  "Both of you are equally pathetic provincials. If you continue to offer each other advice on this matter, the whole arena will soon start laughing at us."

  As Septima stepped onto the sand with her usual icy indifference, her opponent appeared. Standing across from her was Didko—a devil with a long oseledets lock and eyes that didn't seem to focus on her.

  Septima noticed him exchanging looks and messages with someone in the 65th dimension sector, but she didn't care. She was more interested in the fight ahead.

  'From what I saw earlier, it looks like he uses some form of mental technique.'

  The signal to start was trumpeted, and instantly, all sound vanished. For a moment, the she-devil saw only a spreading grayness, which eventually coalesced into a world of endless, monochrome fields.

  'No wonder he won his previous duels in seconds. This potential is truly impressive.'

  The mysterious devil appeared before her, no longer standing on sand but floating in the gray void. He didn't reach for a weapon. Instead, he made a slow, circular gesture with his hands.

  "I have no intention of dragging this out. The rule of this duel is the strength of the Soul Stone."

  As he spoke, the world reacted as if a law of order had been imposed upon the chaos. The gray swirled, and the distant sound of collapsing ground echoed through the void.

  He summoned his Soul Stone. It was a gargantuan, crystalline structure pulsing with vibrant emerald light. The pressure it radiated in this mental dimension was physical—a crushing weight designed to shatter a person's mind.

  Had Justinian seen this, he would have been in shock; the stone was significantly larger than any he had seen in the quarry when choosing his own technique.

  Septima frowned. "You... you aren't truly from the 65th dimension, are you?"

  Justinian, watching from the stands beside the Sarmatians, felt a pang of worry. He remembered this devil. In previous rounds, Didko's fights had ended after seconds of absolute silence, leaving his opponents as drooling wrecks.

  Following Didko’s gaze from earlier, Justinian looked toward the 65th dimension’s sector. There, he noticed a devil intentionally manifesting a powerful third-level Foundation Stabilization aura. Feeling Justinian's gaze, the man flashed a crafty smile.

  'Another weirdo...'

  Shaking his head, Justinian looked away, his eyes drifting toward the cultivators of the 61st dimension. Voivode Ericus was standing at the very edge of the balcony. His white eyes were wide, and he trembled with a manic, vibrating energy, staring at Justinian with a hatred so intense it felt like physical heat.

  The Voivode looked as if he were on the verge of leaping over the railing, rules be damned, to finish what he had started. His missing arm twitched beneath his cloak, and a low, guttural growl escaped his throat, audible even over the roar of the crowd.

  "Could he really be crazy enough to attack the stands?"

  Franciscus noticed Ericus’s hesitation as well. The young devil, ignoring the arena entirely, immediately began scribbling a note in his book.

  Sigh.

  A long, weary exhale drifted from the pipe at Justinian's belt.

  "Despite the passage of years, he remains exactly the same..."

  In the mind-dimension, the 65th dimension adept was laughing. His emerald Soul Stone was descending, the pressure so immense that the gray fields of the mental space were beginning to crack.

  "Hahaha! You are correct. My family hails from a much higher dimension; we simply chose this place as our refuge!"

  Septima looked up at the massive, glowing object. "How long ago was that?"

  Didko rolled his eyes. He clearly hadn't expected the fight to turn into a conversation. "Maybe a thousand years, maybe ten thousand. What does it matter?"

  The she-devil turned her attention away from the approaching stone. Her answer was short and devoid of emotion.

  "You're right. At this moment, it matters very little."

  As she spoke, the pressure grew so great that the grayness around her rippled violently, as if it might vanish at any second. She took a single step forward.

  The devil frowned. He hadn't expected such composure; in his eyes, her movement only increased the pressure on her soul.

  "Then show me your stone and let’s end this!"

  Septima looked him in the eye. "If only the world were so simple."

  The gray void suddenly shuddered. From the edges of the horizon, a blackness more absolute than the void began to sweep inward. It didn't move like smoke; it moved like the closing of an eye.

  "Wait... what... what is that?!" Didko stammered, his emerald stone flickering as the light was sucked out of it.

  "And what meaning does it have?" she asked calmly.

  The blackness hit the emerald crystal. There was no crash, no explosion. The light was simply... consumed.

  The adept let out a scream of pure, existential terror. In his mental world, he was being erased. His legacy, his techniques, and his very ego were dissolving into an infinite, silent night. He clawed at his eyes, but there was nothing to see. There was only the weight of the she-devil’s absolute darkness.

  Back in the stands...

  "He was always a high-strung boy," Doctor Totius’s voice drifted from the pipe, sounding more pensive than usual.

  Justinian frowned, glancing at the green-haired Franciscus nearby, then back to the ghost. "He seems calm enough to me. I wouldn't call him 'high-strung.'"

  "Not the child," Totius corrected, his voice tinged with bitterness.

  "Then who?"

  "I am talking about the creature on the balcony. He hasn't changed a bit in all these centuries. He still thinks that if he screams loud enough and breaks enough things, he can silence his weeping soul."

  Justinian froze. "Wait. You know him?"

  "I know him very well," Totius replied, the pipe radiating a faint, gentle light. "He is the one who killed me."