"I ask for your guidance."
The muffled voice came from beneath Tony's covered helmet.
The sound was smothered by the thick helm, low and indistinct.
Yet the fierce will to fight could still be felt within it.
Clearly, Tony too was a knight who feared no battle and sought glory.
Orum nodded lightly, his face expressionless.
No wasted words, no idle courtesies.
He reached back and gently undid the thick purple cloth wrapped tightly around the flame-steel glaive.
The fabric slid away, revealing the true form of this heavy weapon.
The flame-steel glaive was cast entirely in a deep, unbroken black.
A cold, grim light radiated from its blade.
Orum reached out and gripped the icy black shaft of the glaive.
The instant his palm met the haft, a familiar sensation ran through him.
The shaft was impossibly heavy, as though he held the very spine of a black-scaled dragon.
Lying dormant in the abyss, still and unmoving.
But once unleashed, it would tear mountains apart and shatter the earth!
The moment Orum's hand closed around the haft, Tony's pupils suddenly contracted violently.
For in his field of view, the glaive in Orum's hand had abruptly gone blurry.
As if the entire weapon had vanished from the air.
In the next instant, a shadow of black had already slashed toward Tony's face, carrying with it a terrifying sound of air being torn apart.
Tony was stunned.
His mind, for that moment, nearly ground to a halt.
He could not comprehend what was happening before his eyes.
He had never imagined that the seemingly monstrous, heavy black glaive Orum wielded could move at a speed like lightning.
That glaive looked to weigh at least dozens of kilograms.
Swung, it should have been slow and cumbersome. But reality was the exact opposite.
And, worse still, with a single hand.
Tony could scarcely fathom it: Orum was swinging so heavy a weapon with one hand, as easily as if it were a light wooden stick.
Fast beyond all reason.
"Hah!"
Tony's battle instincts erupted in that instant.
Almost without thinking, he raised his knight's sword to block.
But the very moment the sword was raised, a violent premonition of death surged into Tony's heart like a tide.
It was a terror beyond words.
The alarm deep within him screamed wildly, every cell in his body howling in warning.
Tony's instincts shrieked at him: do not block, whatever you do!
If he blocked, he would die!
That primal, life-deep premonition of death made him want to recoil, to flee this terrifying attack.
But it was already too late.
The black shadow of the glaive had already fallen.
"Clang!"
A deafening clash of metal exploded through the arena.
Like a great bell struck by a heavy hammer.
Before Tony's horrified eyes, the finely forged knight's sword, the work of a master smith, proved as fragile as glass.
The instant the blade met the black glaive, it was shattered by that terrifying force into dozens of fragments.
Sharp metal shards sprayed through the air, glinting silver in the sunlight like a rain of metal.
Tony's cherished sword of fine steel was destroyed, just like that, without ceremony.
It had not even lasted a single second.
The black shadow of the glaive, having shattered the sword, lost none of its momentum and pressed downward without pause.
The metal fragments were still dancing in the air, but Orum's attack did not slow in the slightest.
The flame-steel glaive, like the scythe of death itself, carrying a terror that promised to annihilate everything, drove straight for Tony's shoulder.
Then, a force like a collapsing mountain bore down from above, crashing heavily onto Tony's thick pauldron.
"Boom!"
A muffled impact rang out, and Tony's entire body, as if struck by a giant hammer driving in a nail, sank abruptly downward.
The sound did not resemble a weapon striking armor so much as a boulder crashing into the earth.
The whole arena seemed to tremble faintly under the shock of that single blow.
Tony's fine set of knight's plate armor, under the effect of the Shield Wall feat, was furiously dispersing the impact.
The silver-white surface of the armor suddenly blazed with an even brighter light, the Shield Wall feat pushed to its absolute limit.
Countless tiny runes flickered across the armor's surface, desperately scattering that terrifying force outward in every direction.
But the force overwhelmed Shield Wall even at full output.
The immense power drove clean through his body, from shoulder to spine, and finally down through both legs to the ground beneath his feet.
Tony could feel with perfect clarity how that force raged through him like a flood.
Bone, muscle, organ, everything in him trembled under the force of that blow.
"Crack, crack, crack."
The ground beneath him, unable to bear the terrible impact, let out a sound of cracking stone.
Centered on Tony, the flagstones split apart in an instant, countless fissures spreading outward like a spider's web.
Tony's iron boots sank deep into the cracked stone, and his whole body seemed nailed to the spot, unable to move.
"How is this possible?!"
Tony's pupils shrank to pinpoints in an instant, his mind going utterly blank.
"Am I fighting a troll?"
A cry of despair rang out inside Tony's heart. He was utterly unable to make sense of the reality before him.
Trolls were a breed of monster whose strength was terrifying beyond measure. An elite troll could lift several tons and shatter a city wall with a single punch, a horror that even professional-rank adventurers had to approach with the greatest caution.
And the power Orum had just displayed felt, to him, exactly like that of a troll.
Tony could hear it with perfect clarity: every joint of his full plate armor was groaning under a weight it could not bear.
"Creak. Creak."
That was the sound of metal being twisted and warped under crushing pressure, sharp and grating.
Pauldron, breastplate, backplate, vambrace, nearly every joint of his armor cried out under the force of that single blow.
This fine suit of plate, which had cost him a fortune to commission, was now like a wreck about to fall apart, every joint straining far beyond what it had ever been built to endure.
At the same time, a tearing agony shot through Tony's left shoulder, a pain so severe it nearly knocked him unconscious on the spot.
His shoulder blade had been utterly shattered by the terrifying force of that blow, splinters of bone driven into the surrounding flesh.
The agony surged through his nerves like electric current, and Tony clenched his jaw, forcing back a scream.
But by now, beads of sweat the size of peas were already rolling down his forehead.
Tony's mind had gone completely blank. He felt like a fragile glass doll, about to be crushed utterly beneath the hammer in a giant's hand.
The shadow of death loomed over him. He could almost feel the reaper's scythe resting against his neck.
Just as Tony believed he was about to die, the terrible force pressing down on his shoulder suddenly vanished.
"It's over."
Orum's calm voice rang out, spoken lightly, without a trace of emotion.
He drew back the black glaive from Tony's shoulder, the motion easy and unhurried, as if he had merely done something entirely trivial.
Tony stood frozen where he was.
His mind had not yet recovered from the terror of near death.
Then, the next instant.
"Crack. Crack. Crack-crack."
A series of crisp cracking sounds suddenly rose from Tony's body.
The sound was faint, but in the silence of the arena it rang out with striking clarity.
The six other gladiators watching nearby all stared, utterly stunned, eyes wide with shock.
They stared in disbelief at Tony's body.
They watched clearly as, across Tony's tall and broad frame, the knight's armor covering his entire body suddenly began to burst apart.
That once mighty, formidably defensive silver-white plate now shattered piece by piece, as though struck by some spell.
First the pauldrons cracked into several pieces.
Then countless fissures spread across the breastplate.
Then the backplate, the vambraces, the greaves, one after another.
Those finely crafted, precisely fitted plates of armor, the product of masterful workmanship, all disintegrated in that moment, collapsing into a heap of metal parts.
Countless fragments and pieces of metal rained down from Tony's body like a downpour.
They clattered and clanged as they scattered across the ground.
Ringing out with a crisp metallic clash.
Within the space of a few seconds, Tony's once magnificent suit of full plate had been reduced entirely to a heap of scrap metal.
Tony looked down, dazed.
Staring at the shattered wreckage of the armor now littering the ground around his feet.
His body began to tremble uncontrollably.
Cold sweat broke out all over him, instantly soaking through the padded garment beneath his armor.
That once-dry cotton undergarment was now drenched.
Clinging tight to his skin, bringing with it a cold, heavy weight.
This suit of armor had been Tony's greatest pride, the very source of his fighting spirit and his confidence.
For a knight of near-professional rank, this fine plate armor, crafted by a master smith, had given Tony boundless courage.
As long as he wore this armor, as long as the Shield Wall feat still functioned, he had the courage to charge into any battlefield without fear.
But in this moment, all the belief Tony had painstakingly built for himself had utterly collapsed.
He could not imagine what manner of power could, in a single blow, smash his cherished armor to pieces.
That was not a strength that belonged to humans.
That was a power belonging to monsters, to dragons, to ancient primeval beasts.
And what left Tony even more despairing was that, with the total destruction of his armor, the protection granted by the Shield Wall feat vanished in the very same instant.
The Shield Wall feat required the wearer to be "clad in largely intact plate armor."
Now that the armor had shattered into a heap of parts, the feat naturally could no longer take effect.
Stripped of his armor and the protection of Shield Wall, Tony was now as fragile as a snail without its shell.
Tony had never felt so utterly helpless.
Stripped of his armor, he felt exposed to every breath of wind.
Tony's knees suddenly buckled.
No longer able to bear the weight of his own body.
He collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.
His whole body shook violently, trembling like a sieve of chaff, utterly beyond his control.
Beneath his helmet, Tony's face had gone deathly pale, drained of all color.
His lips, too, had turned a bruised, bluish purple from terror.
Tony's spirit had all but collapsed.
He had even forgotten to raise the silver Blazing Sun token at his waist to signal surrender.
His mind was blank, his eyes unfocused, his entire being as vacant as a man who had lost his soul.
Orum glanced once at Tony, who was kneeling on the ground.
He confirmed the man had entirely lost the capacity to fight.
Orum had no intention of pressing his advantage against a helpless man.
Tony had already lost.
There was no need to deal a killing blow to a man already defeated.
Though he never held back in battle, neither did he kill without purpose or reason.
Orum turned and swept his gaze toward the other six gladiators at the far end of the arena.
They stood there now, utterly frozen in place.
As though bound by some petrifying spell.
Every one of them stood rigid, having even forgotten to blink.
The expressions on those six faces were remarkable.
Shock, terror, disbelief.
All these emotions mingled together, forming complex and almost comical expressions across their faces.
Without exception, not one of them could find words, still lost in the grip of that shock.
Orum spoke, his tone even. "Who among you ranks second strongest?"
"You may come and challenge me now."
His tone was flat, as though what had just happened had been nothing at all.
Rather than a single blow that had crushed a near-professional-rank knight, shattering his armor along with the Shield Wall feat in one strike.
That air of effortless indifference made it seem as though he had not taken the fight seriously in the least.
At these words, the remaining six gladiators all went slack-jawed.
Every face bore the unmistakable message: I do not want to go up there.
They had just witnessed Tony's ruin with their own eyes.
He had been the acknowledged strongest among them, the one with the finest defense.
And he had not even lasted a single exchange before his armor was shattered and he was left kneeling on the ground, unable to rise.
Now it was the "second strongest" one's turn to step forward?
Wasn't that just walking to one's own death?
After a brief silence, five of them raised their hands almost simultaneously.
All pointing to the dwarf standing among them.
He was a stout, powerfully built dwarf warrior, bearing all the classic features of his race.
A thick beard, broad shoulders, sturdy limbs.
Though barely a meter and a half tall, he had grown outward to an almost absurd degree.
This dwarf looked imposing and fierce.
His body was a mass of coiled muscle, hard as stone.
In the dwarf's hands was a heavy war hammer, weighing at least forty kilograms.
By his appearance alone, his strength was clearly not to be underestimated.
"It's Thorin! He's the second strongest among us!"
The five shouted in unison.
The dwarf, Thorin, froze the moment he heard this.
His face changed color at once, and he shouted in fierce denial. "I am not! I am not second strongest!"
His voice carried urgency and panic as he hastily added, "I twisted my ankle this morning!"
"There's no way I can fight right now!"
Thorin had immediately concocted an excuse to save himself.
He put on a show of being in pain, clutching his "injured" leg, grimacing, his face twisted in an exaggerated grimace of agony.
As he performed with great effort, Thorin pointed at once toward a tall half-orc warrior beside him. "Andy is far stronger than me!"
"He's mastered a proficient-tier combat technique!"
"He's the real strongest one among us!"
Thorin declared this with utter conviction, his tone thick with certainty.
The half-orc warrior, Andy, hearing this, immediately flared up in anger.
His copper-bell eyes bulged wide as he roared. "You're full of it! You lying dog!"
"I don't have any proficient-tier combat technique!"
"I haven't even mastered the skilled tier yet!"
The half-orc's fiery temper erupted instantly, and he burst into a stream of curses.
"You're the one full of it, you mangy dog!"
Thorin fired back without yielding an inch.
Though the dwarf was short in stature, his voice rang out like a bronze gong, and he cursed with no shortage of vigor.
"Who are you calling a mangy dog?!"
Andy was enraged now, the half-orc's fierce blood fully roused.
His fists clenched, knuckles cracking.
"I'm calling YOU a mangy dog!"
Thorin shot back without a shred of courtesy, his beard bristling as he glared furiously at his usual rival.
He clearly showed no fear at all of this half-orc who towered a full head or two above him.
"Say that again and see what happens!"
"I said it! Mangy dog, that's what you————"
Before Thorin could finish, he suddenly realized something was wrong.
At this moment, they were supposed to be uniting to nominate the "strongest" among them to send off to die.
Not squabbling and hurling insults among themselves.
And so, the six of them stopped their quarrel and instead launched into a furious round of mutual accusation and betrayal.
"James is the strongest! His swordsmanship is incredible!"
"Nonsense! Grace is way stronger than me!"
"What are you talking about?! Andy's strength is three times mine! He could kill me with one punch!"
"You're talking rubbish! Robbie's the fastest of us all!"
"Kobe has the strongest defense!"
"Thorin's war hammer hits the hardest!"
The six of them talked over one another, wildly shifting blame in every direction.
Desperately trying to pin the unlucky title of "second strongest" on someone else.
Each of them worked frantically to belittle themselves while praising the others.
As though each were a worthless nobody while everyone else was a peerless master.
The scene descended into utter chaos.
It had already begun to spiral into mutual abuse, with the six gladiators entirely forgetting that this was supposed to be the championship match of the arena.
"What kind of garbage is this?"
"Refund! I want my money back!"
"Is this an arena or a fish market?!"
Complaints rose one after another from the audience.
The spectators, who had come expecting bloody, brutal combat, watched seven gladiators collectively surrender and flew into a rage.
They had paid handsomely for their tickets expecting to witness fierce combat and bloody slaughter.
Instead, they had gotten a ridiculous shouting match.
At last, after this fierce and absurd round of mutual accusation, betrayal, and cursing, the six of them seemed to finally reach some kind of consensus.
Rather than being pushed forward to die, they might as well simply surrender, all of them.
After all, the rules permitted surrender in the finals.
Surrender was shameful, but at least it meant staying alive.
"I surrender!"
"Me too!"
"I concede!"
Robbie, James, Grace, Kobe, Thorin, and Max all raised their arms high.
Silver tokens flashed blindingly in the noon sunlight.
Six tokens swaying in the air, like six white flags.
Declaring their utter surrender and concession.
As for the promise Tony had so solemnly made earlier, to help Orum slay the man-eating python, none of them had ever intended to honor it in the first place.
After all, they were no noble knights bound by some ridiculous code of honor to uphold.
Several gladiators walked over to Tony, still kneeling on the ground, and dragged away the man now as limp as mud.
Fragments of his armor lay scattered across the ground, ringing out with clattering sounds.
The seven gladiators left the arena in utter disgrace, like a pack of dogs fleeing with their tails between their legs.
Now, at the center of the arena, only Orum remained, standing alone.
As the seven gladiators departed, the jeers and complaints from the stands grew ever louder.
The audience was clearly furious over this bloodless "farce" of a match.
"What kind of contest is this? Not the least bit exciting!"
"I came here to see killing, not to watch people argue!"
Angry roars rose one after another from the crowd.
"Damn it! Refund! We demand a refund! This is nothing but a scam!"
More spectators joined the protest, and the scene began to show signs of spiraling out of control.
Some of the more fanatical among them even began hurling rotten vegetables and spoiled fruit into the arena.
Venting their frustration and anger in the most direct way they knew.
"What kind of match is this?"
"We want blood!"
The furious shouts rolled forward like waves of the sea, one after another.
A rotten tomato flew through the air, splattering against the golden sand.
Red juice spattered in every direction.
"It's all falling apart!"
The half-orc host, seeing the situation on the verge of spiraling out of control, broke out in beads of sweat that slid down his creased, weathered skin.
He had to do something, immediately, to win back the audience's interest.
Otherwise, today's tournament would turn into an utter disaster.
The host hurried to the amplification device, took a deep breath, and shouted in his booming voice, "Honored spectators!"
His voice, magnified through the magical device, rang out across the entire arena.
Thundering through the eardrums of everyone present, like a peal of thunder.
"Please, remain calm!"
The host's voice overpowered the clamor of the crowd.
Forcibly drawing everyone's attention back to the center of the arena.
"Though the previous match unfolded in a way that was, ah, somewhat unexpected."
"An even more thrilling and exciting event is about to begin!"
The half-orc host worked hard to stir up the atmosphere, his tone unmistakably placating.
The host bellowed with all his strength, his voice charged with unmistakable fervor. "Next, our valiant champion, Orum, will face the terrifying and formidable man-eating python alone!"
The words landed like a bomb, exploding across the stands in an instant.
The once furious spectators suddenly fell silent.
A man-eating python?
That was no joke.
"That is a fully grown man-eating python!"
The host exaggerated his description, his voice thick with theatrical dread.
"Over twelve meters long, thick as a barrel!"
"Capable of effortlessly strangling a full-grown bull to death!"
Gasps of shock began rippling through the audience.
The man-eating python's fearsome reputation was known to all in the region around Roen City.
"Its fangs are sharper than a blade, able to bite a man clean in half with a single snap!"
The host continued to lay on the terror.
"Its crushing strength can bend and twist steel!"
"Even a fully armed party of adventurers would not dare provoke such a terrifying monster lightly!"
Upon hearing the words "man-eating python," the jeers from the audience died down somewhat.
A single human gladiator, facing a fully grown man-eating python, alone.
A battle of this caliber did, indeed, hold genuine spectacle value.
The man-eating python was a fearsome monster of the Misty Forest, notorious for its brutality and lethality.
Every year, adventurers died in its coils.
This creature was terrifyingly strong, and terrifyingly cunning as well, favoring the practice of coiling along thick tree trunks to ambush passing travelers.
Many seasoned adventurers had met their end in its jaws.
Man-eating pythons often struck at villages and towns as well, or lay in ambush along roadsides, devouring passersby whole.
Every year without fail brought some horrifying account of a man-eating python swallowing a living victim.
For this reason, this fearsome great serpent had earned the terrifying epithet "man-eating."
Seeing the crowd's mood beginning to ease, the host felt a measure of relief.
He continued his impassioned commentary.
"Honored spectators, please turn your gaze to the eastern side of the arena!"
"There stands an enormous iron cage!"
"Within it is confined today's special guest: the man-eating python!"
Every eye turned toward the great iron cage on the eastern side of the arena.
The cage stood a full three meters tall, and eight or nine meters wide.
Forged from the finest steel, each bar as thick as a grown man's arm.
The cage was draped in black cloth, its interior swallowed in shadow, its contents hidden from view.
But one could faintly make out the sound of heavy breathing and the rasp of scales sliding against one another.
"Behold, our valiant gladiator now approaches the cage sealing away the man-eating python!"
"The python is emerging!"
The host's voice was thick with theatrical incitement.
"This terrifying beast could take Orum's head off in a single bite————"
"No! Why is the man-eating python running away?!"
The host's voice suddenly turned sharp and disbelieving.
Nothing at all like his previous booming tone.
His voice trembled with shock and confusion.
"By Gruumsh above!"
The host let out a cry of astonishment.
His tone thick with shock and bewilderment, his voice utterly changed.
Gruumsh was the war god worshipped by orcs and half-orcs, a name invoked only in moments of the most extreme shock.
The stands fell, for a moment, into confusion.
Everyone craned their necks, straining to see what exactly had happened.
Standing high upon the judge's platform, the half-orc host watched in disbelief as the terrifying man-eating serpent turned and fled the moment the cage door opened.
That monstrous creature, fully fifteen meters long and thick as a barrel, bolted away as desperately as a mouse fleeing before a cat, straight in the direction farthest from Orum.
"How is this even possible?!"
Orum tightened his grip on the black shaft of the glaive, its edge catching the light in a cold, grim gleam.
At the center of his palm, the cold, heavy sensation of metal ran through him, as though he held destruction itself made solid.
Orum drew a deep breath, and within his chest, his two hearts and four lungs began to churn furiously, driving boundless power into every limb and bone of his body.
Immense power surged through his veins, blazing through his marrow.
Orum's body dropped slightly, the muscles of his legs snapping taut in an instant, and pure, overwhelming force burst forth from within him like an erupting volcano.
In the next instant, Orum stamped down hard, his right foot slamming against the unyielding stone of the arena floor.
"Boom!"
With a single deafening crack, the solid ground beneath his feet split apart instantly, countless fissures spreading outward in every direction like a spider's web.
The thick stone slabs, under the force of that single stomp, turned as brittle as thin ice.
The cracks spread rapidly, forming a shattered zone more than five meters across.
Dust was flung up all around, forming a spreading ring of haze.
A great cry of shock rose from the stands.
"Good gods!"
"What kind of power is that?"
"He stomped the ground to pieces!"
Harnessing that terrifying rebound force, Orum's body shot forward several meters, as though fired from a cannon.
At the same moment, Orum raised the flame-steel glaive, weighing three hundred ninety kilograms, high over his shoulder, and the monstrous strength of Bugbear Tendon +2 erupted in full force.
The muscles of his arm suddenly bulged, veins twisting and writhing across his skin like coiled serpents, something terrifying surging just beneath the surface.
It was the power of Bugbear Tendon +2 raging furiously through his muscle fibers, nearly tearing through his own skin.
The glaive was raised high overhead, that fearsome weapon nearly two meters long and weighing three hundred ninety kilograms letting out a violent hum, monstrous force churning wildly within it.
In the next instant, Orum, gathering every ounce of his strength, hurled the flame-steel glaive forward like a javelin, thrown with all his might.
The moment the glaive left his hand, it became a bolt of black lightning, tearing the very air asunder.
As the black lightning tore through the air, it let out a deafening shriek, a thunderous roar that crashed across the arena.
The audience could scarcely believe what they were seeing.
This looked nothing like a javelin throw. It was more like a siege ballista firing.
The speed of that throw was staggering, almost beyond what the human eye could follow, leaving only a blurred black afterimage in its wake.
The man-eating python, fleeing for its life, had no chance to react before that lethal bolt of lightning had already caught up to it.
The python's senses screamed the approach of death.
It thrashed desperately, its enormous body writhing wildly across the ground, trying to change direction.
But it was already too late.
"BOOM!"
An earth-shaking crash exploded through the arena, the entire ground shuddering with the force of it.
The sound was less like a weapon striking its target and more like a bolt of lightning splitting the earth.
The flame-steel glaive struck true, driving into the python's skull, its keen point punching through the creature's thick scales and skull as easily as slicing tofu.
The defense the man-eating python had always taken such pride in proved as fragile as paper before that terrifying penetrating force.
After tearing through the python's skull, the flame-steel glaive lost none of its momentum, plunging deep into the granite wall beyond and pinning the beast to the stone.
"Hisss————"
Amid the man-eating python's great dying scream, blood sprayed like a fountain from the wound in its skull, drenching the air.
After a brief silence, the stands erupted in a deafening roar of cheers, sweeping over the arena like a tidal wave.
"Orum! Orum! Orum!"
The name rang out in unison, everyone shouting it with wild abandon.
The very spectators who moments ago had been demanding refunds had, in an instant, become fervent devotees.
It took the half-orc host a long moment to remember his duties.
He raised the magical amplification device with a trembling hand, his voice quivering as he spoke. "Honored spectators!"
"We have just witnessed a miracle!"
"Orum has slain the terrifying man-eating python with a single strike!"
The host's voice was thick with excitement, all trace of his earlier nervousness gone.
"Congratulations to Orum, champion of the Blazing Sun Tournament!"
"The undisputed champion of the Blazing Sun Tournament!"
The crowd's cheering grew even more thunderous.
The entire arena boiled over in fevered celebration.
Just then, at the center of Orum's vision, that familiar translucent panel silently appeared once more:
[You have slain 1 Man-Eating Python!]
[Stage reward available for claim: Monster Organ, Man-Eating Python Scale!]
[Next stage reward: Slay 10 Man-Eating Pythons to receive an advanced reward!]
Beyond this, there was one more special notice that made Orum's pupils contract sharply.
[You have earned a brand new title: "Blazing Sun Tournament Champion"!]
[Effect 1, Master of Many Blades: Your proficiency training speed with any melee weapon increases by 30%!]
[Effect 2, Undying in Battle: When you enter a life-or-death immersive battle, for every minute that passes, the damage you deal from slashing, piercing, and bludgeoning attacks increases by 10%, up to a maximum of 100%!]
"A brand new title!"
Having read the description, Orum was utterly stunned.
Was this some kind of broken stat monster?
This strong?!