Inside the competitors' waiting chambers, the air had changed.
No one joked now. No one argued. Even the loudmouths had gone quiet.
Because everyone had seen the same thing:
A black-gold ancient blade.
One calm step.
A man vanishing—and an opponent splitting apart like the arena itself had been cut in two.
It didn't feel like a match.
It felt like a verdict.
And the name that kept rising, uninvited, in more and more minds was the same:
Zhang Qilin.
A few competitors tried—briefly—to imagine trading places with Hattori Taro.
Then they stopped.
Because the ending didn't change.
Not for them. Not for anyone.
Still… fear never ruled everyone.
In Miracle Nation's waiting chamber, Eddie Brock leaned back, unimpressed, like he'd just watched an overhyped clip.
"Zhang Qilin is nothing," he muttered. "Fast, sure. But he's leaning on that black-gold ancient blade."
A ribbon of black slid up his shoulder and shaped itself beside him—half-shadow, half-mockery.
Venom.
Its voice came low, amused, and sharper than Eddie's arrogance.
"Don't underestimate him," Venom said. "His speed isn't slower than ours."
Venom's attention lingered—not on the man, but on the weapon. Like it disliked what it couldn't read.
"And that blade… its origin is the real problem. I still can't tell what it is."
Eddie clicked his tongue.
"Dragon Nation has five thousand years of history. Ancient weapons happen."
Venom's grin widened.
"Ancient doesn't mean harmless."
Eddie waved it off, confidence settling back onto him like armor.
"Relax. If we move together, no one lasts in front of us."
Deep inside Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone, there was no waiting room.
No safety.
No second chances.
Only the shadow of a Divine Tree, and a field of violet crystal bodies flickering through space like nightmares learning how to hunt.
The Amethyst Void Beasts didn't rush in all at once.
They tested.
One blinked behind. Another feinted left. A third appeared low, near the legs—looking for a stumble, a flinch, a single breath out of rhythm.
Raven Shaw exhaled once and let heat ignite under her skin.
Cell burn.
The air around her felt thinner, colder—like her presence dragged the temperature down by force. She rolled her shoulders and lifted her combat saber.
Then she glanced at Adrian Vale, and for a moment her eyes carried something almost playful.
"Kid," she said, steady as ever, "let's see who drops more."
Adrian's expression didn't brighten.
It sharpened.
He raised his hand and snapped his index finger—soft, clean, almost casual.
A switch flipped.
Behind him, kagune unfolded—structure first, pale and brutal like bone—then flooded with dark red, thickening into something that looked less like an organ and more like a weapon built with intent.
Holy Sword Kagune.
The beasts reacted instantly.
A ripple passed through the swarm—like a silent signal.
Three of them vanished at once.
The air behind Raven shivered.
Adrian didn't look over.
He simply said, "Behind you."
Raven moved.
A single flash of steel—
Clang—shatter.
One Amethyst shell cracked. The body inside folded, spilling blood too dark to look real in the Divine Tree's glow.
Raven didn't stop. She didn't even breathe harder.
She cut again—clean, efficient, practiced.
Open. Finish. Move.
But Adrian…
Adrian didn't "fight" them.
He walked into them.
Wherever he drifted, bodies came apart as if they'd failed some invisible rule of existence.
A flick—crystal armor fractured into violet shrapnel.
A sweep—torsos opened, ribs and organs scattering.
A twist—and three beasts at once were reduced to spinning pieces, blood misting through the air like a fine red spray.
The Amethyst Void Beasts tried to blink away.
They vanished—then reappeared—
and Adrian was already there.
Not chasing.
Arriving.
His Holy Sword Kagune rotated around him in controlled arcs, tightening into a ring of blades so precise it looked like the space itself had been measured and sentenced.
The clearing turned into a grinder.
Purple shards flew.
Limbs cartwheeled through the air.
Blood pooled between broken crystals like lacquer poured over jewels.
Adrian inhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded.
"Mm," he breathed, almost pleased. "So that's what you are."
In Dragon Nation's livestream, the chat went from panic… to silence… to something like disbelief.
"S-rank… and they're getting farmed."
"This isn't a fight. This is harvesting."
"Adrian is getting scarier every chapter."
"How was this guy on Blue Star? Where was he hiding?"
"Bro… imagine being his enemy."
Another beast blinked behind Adrian—
and Raven's saber took it the instant it appeared, timing immaculate, like she'd been waiting on the exact frame.
Even with cell burn, even with that terrifying speed—
the numbers didn't lie.
Adrian was faster.
Adrian was cleaner.
Adrian was built for this.
At last, the swarm stopped acting like hunters.
Not fleeing—because they didn't get the chance.
Ending.
The last few bodies collapsed in pieces, crystal armor shattered into glittering rubble. The air smelled metallic, sharp, and wrong.
Adrian stepped out of the gore like it was shallow water.
The Holy Sword Kagune peeled back and vanished.
His face returned to calm—cold, blank, almost bored.
Raven landed nearby, saber lowered.
She stared at the ruin for a moment, then clicked her tongue under her breath.
"Annoying."
Adrian glanced at her.
"You lost."
He said it like he was reading the weather.
Raven's jaw tightened.
"Yeah, yeah," she said, forcing it out. "You're amazing. Happy?"
Adrian didn't answer.
He turned and started walking—already moving toward the next marked point on the Rustic Peerless Treasure Map, as if the slaughter behind him mattered no more than footprints in mud.
Raven followed a step behind, muttering with reluctant irritation:
"Seriously… what a cold bastard."
And watching Adrian's back disappear into the dreamlike forest, the livestream finally landed on the nickname that fit too well to be funny:
Not a hero.
Not a champion.
A reaper—
quiet, indifferent, and unavoidable.
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