Blacksmith of the Apocalypse - Chapter 1093

Chapter 1093: Suddenly Frozen

Darkness enveloped him. But it wasn't just the lack of light. He had explored ancient caves and burial mounts, where no light reached. This was different, he was blind. And not just blind, all sound had also disappeared. He couldn't even taste the fresh air after the rain in the arena had finally stopped. The only sense he could still perceive was the slight breeze of air and the touch of his robes on his skin

He tried to calm down and use his Qi sense to perceive the world around him, but to his horror, even his divine consciousness was blocked from seeing anything past his body! Just what had the blind cripple done to him? he tried recalling what just happened.

What did they call him? He should have listened when the fairy announced their names, but he was too focused. He had been ready to unsheathe his blade and cut the other apart the moment she announced the beginning of the fight.

Ultimately, he had only made a single step and started his technique, when the other pulled an old sword from his belt and he lost all senses. His technique failed and he suffered a slight recoil, but it wasn't important. He had to come up with something...

However, intrusive thoughts kept interrupting him. How long had it been since he was trapped in this darkness? Why didn't the other attack already? Was he mocking him? How did this look from the outside? He would make the old man pay for this humiliation.

The last thought led back to what he was supposed to do and he suddenly thought it was a brilliant idea to unleash his ultimate technique. if he simply destroyed the whole stage, he HAD to hit his opponent! He had wanted to hold back initially, but hiding his strength wouldn't work out if he died here and now.

He was just collecting his energy to follow this plan, when he felt a slight sting in his forehead. When he woke up again, he stood in a white, clean room. His senses were back and he immediately realized that he was no longer in the arena...

“What happened?” he mumbled exasperatedly not expecting an answer, but it came.

“You lost, honey,” the answer came from an older lady wearing a white uniform.

...

The fourteenth match was probably the weirdest yet. The cultivator who went by the moniker of the Quick Blade had suddenly frozen after only taking a single step. he was looking around in flight, obviously seeing things the audience could not.

When he stopped his opponent, an old man from Y-City simply strutted forward to end him. He was a blind old man, but he was also known as the Chosen of Hodr, the god of darkness and warriors. Although he had shown no overwhelming performance before, he had gotten through the preliminaries without a scratch, despite being blind.

Within a minute after the fight started, the Chosen of Hodr had leisurely inserted his unmaintained-looking sword into the head of his opponent, without experiencing even the slightest resistance from the cultivator.

For the ordinary observer, the noble Vampire had met his worst enemy, because Ibelin Godfrey was not just a simple knight, but the chosen of an undisclosed god of light, carrying the unique class of a Holy Cannoneer, a mix of Marksman and Holy Crusader, as well as Paladin of Light.

Ibelin's wave of bullets that had proven hard to dodge during the preliminaries, brought an aura of divine punishment with them, as they were all blessed by the holy crusader. If the vampire was to be hit, the wound would be hard to heal even for the supernatural high-speed regeneration of a high-rank vampire.

Although the outcome seemed predictable, the audience was still ecstatic. A balanced, high-octane fight got them just as roused as a brutal, one-sided beatdown. Even happier were they, when things did not turn out as expected.

Unlike the participants in the preliminaries, Nox was prepared. Using his supernatural reflexes he dodged the stream of bullets by observing the direction of the barrel and turning his body into mist at times.

While he evaded the bullets he cast waves of blood magic and curses at the crusader. Stationary as he was, he was an easy target. But there was a reason he didn't bother dodging, all of the vampire's attack glanced off an invisible shield, spewing golden sparks when hit.

Now they were in a standoff. One kept dodging, while the other was immune to attacks. And suddenly, the buzzing of the minigun fell silent. Had the Crusader run out of ammo? Was it possible? Nox saw his chance, rushing at the knight, wielding a dark sword, covered in crimson magic, he intended to slash through the shield and kill his opponent in one move.

However, the crusader had simply changed his gun. By the time the vampire reached Ibelin, he stared down the barrel of a machine gun.

“Parry this, filthy casual,” the shot echoed through the stadium.

Nox tried, but the sword exploded in his hands and so did his head.

...

“Well done. It seems like Clarke's fate was a good reminder?” an irritating voice rang from the communication orb. The old man frowned at the orb in his hands but stayed silent.

“Haha, I'm just joking. You know I am! I always trusted that you would make it. Don't forget to take our little present before you draw your lot for the next round,” the voice at the other end insisted.

“I understand, so don't contact me again.”