The air in the Valhalla Arena didn't just ripple; it shattered.
The match had barely begun when Saturn, the Primordial Force of Ragnarok, unleashed a strike that should have ended the Mega Phase in seconds. His hand, wreathed in the grey, entropic smoke of the "End of Days," descended like a guillotine. It was an attack designed to erase the target from the timeline entirely.
BOOM.
The dust kicked up in a massive, circular shockwave, blinding the audience. Göll shrieked, clutching her hair. "He's gone! He didn't even have a Volundr!"
But as the dust settled, the sight left the Gods paralyzed in their seats.
The Unbreakable Wall
Leonidas I was not erased. He stood in a deep, anchored stance, his boots buried inches into the stone floor. His Aspis shield was raised, the bronze glowing with a dull, heated red from the friction of the divine blow. His muscles were corded like steel cables, and his eyes, visible through the slit of his Corinthian helmet, were burning with a terrifying, calm ferocity.
"I won't die tonight," Leonidas growled, his voice vibrating through the shield and into Saturn's very soul.
The King didn't wait for a second strike. He exploded into his Phalanx Style. It was a technical masterclass in close-quarters carnage. He didn't just swing; he moved like a machine of war. The shield was used as a battering ram, slamming into Saturn's chest to disrupt his breathing, followed instantly by the lightning-fast thrusts of his Dory spear.
The Observation of the Gods
High in the VIP section, Thor, the Berserker of the North, leaned forward, his grip tightening on Mjolnir. He didn't look amused; he looked analytical.
"Is that man... the most durable human to have ever been born?" Thor mused, his voice heavy with a rare respect. "The Gods have sent the personification of the End to kill him. If Saturn breaks him, the 'Wall of Humanity' is shattered forever. But look at him... he isn't just surviving. He is tanking the weight of the Void."
Indeed, Saturn was not holding back. Every swing of his hands carried the force of a collapsing star. Every time he struck Leonidas, the Spartan didn't dodge. He tanked it. He absorbed the impact into his skeleton, his feet transferring the divine force into the earth itself. He was equally dominating the ground, refusing to be pushed back even an inch by the God who brings Ragnarok.
The Secret of the Architect
Brunhilde was trembling, her eyes darting between the arena and the man standing casually beside her. "Alif... explain this!" she demanded, her voice a mix of awe and anger. "Saturn is a Top-Tier God. He is a Primordial! He was sent specifically to execute Leonidas and crush the morale of the 99 rounds. How is a human—a man of flesh and bone—dominating the God of Time on equal ground? How is he not wounded? How is he not dust?"
Khandakar Addin Hasan Alif—Thunder the Warrior—didn't turn to look at her. He kept his eyes on the Spartan, a small, knowing smile on his face. He watched as Leonidas parried a blow that would have leveled a mountain, only to respond with a brutal shield-bash to Saturn's face.
"A King doesn't just lead his people, Brunhilde," Alif said calmly. "He bears their weight. Leonidas isn't just fighting with his own strength."
Alif knew the secret. It wasn't "magic." It was the Tawfiq of Allah manifesting as the ultimate form of Sabr (Patience/Endurance). Leonidas had been granted the ability to be "Immovable." As long as his will remained unbroken, his body was technically a part of the Earth itself—and you cannot kill the Earth by hitting it with a hammer.
The Heat of the Battle
Leonidas was now a blur of bronze and sweat. He was "On Fire"—not with flames, but with the raw friction of his own heart pumping at a rate that defied nature. He drove his spear into the gap of Saturn's armor, the iron tip screeching against divine skin.
"You are the Ragnarok?" Leonidas laughed, a bloody, warrior's laugh. "I've seen scarier sights in the Agoge! You're just another target!"
Saturn hissed, his grey aura flaring. For the first time in eons, a God felt the pressure of being dominated by a mortal. The "Wall of Humanity" wasn't just standing—it was advancing.