Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

Spectral swords whizzed through the air but they were unable to even touch the raving champion of light. Even Mantaman, the relic-rated sword, was unable to touch Bartholomew Mathias. As the two clashed in the center of the arena, its blade was stopped about an inch from his skin.

The Chosen's fist on the other hand landed squarely on Nam's Jaw, directly ripping away his mouth mask and reposing the rotten face beneath. The cultivator stumbled backward but didn't seem to be affected any further.

“This was a warning. Don't you dare to hold back against me,” Bartholomew made it clear that he had held back on the punch, but the fight so far showed, that he decided to go all beginning with this fight. It was emphasized by the fact, that Nam's bare blade was unable to even touch him, much less his Qi blades.

In previous fights, the participants had been able to harm and cut him with some difficulty, although he healed quickly. Whether he took some buffs, or just held in the previous rounds, it was clear that he didn't dare to underestimate the cultivator.

“I already know this isn't your peak, so get-” the fist fighter was interrupted as a blade covered in aura zoomed past his face. He moved back just in time to evade, but still suffered a nick on the ridge of his nose. Although it healed shut at a visible speed, there was still a tiny drop of blood, flowing down his face like a tear.

“Fine..” the hollow, raspy voice that came straight from his throat said, as he charged at Bartholomew in a flurry of strikes. His moves, every changing, left virtually no gaps for a counterattack to disrupt his flow. Unlike Lyca, who was comparable in skill, Mathias was quickly pushed back. He could only do his best to dodge lethal strikes, a small wounds kept accumulating.

“... this is the difference in experience and training...” the half-rotten cultivator gasped, overpowering his unarmed opponent, even without unsealing the bandages. but he quickly had to eat his own words. As if to answer the small provocation, Bartholomew started being covered in light.

Previously, he had used attacks that resembled light magic, which in many cases were only meant as distractions or diversion, but this was different. His whole body started to be covered by a bright glow, yet dim enough not to blind anyone. He simply became a white silhouette, like a reverse shadow, with his features and details vanishing.

Even Seth, with the godly vision skill, was unable to fully make out his contours, as he kept moving. Just the visual effect would have been an annoyance to fight, the blacksmith imagined, as the opponent's limbs practically vanished from sight unless they protruded outside of his silhouette.

It was not just a visual effect. When Nam attacked with his sword to interrupt the skill, it was deflected with a loud clank, audible across the stadium. Batholomew was easily becoming 20-30% faster than before, as he used this chance to counterattack.

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Hunched over like a boxer, he was raining quick, hard jabs on the sword cultivator's body who seemed only able to haplessly receive the attacks, unable to react. The blacksmith had no difficulty imagining why, nam was unable to see the attacks.

While he and the audience had a side view, that showed Bartholomew's posture and quick actions, his arms would be invisible to the cultivator, with the chosen's torso in the background of the attacks.

Nam on the other hand, was once again unable to overcome the shell of light with his sword. Seeing the futility of the current situation, the cultivator chose flight, turning the fight into a chase. A humanoid ball of light was pursuing the cultivator with the skull face across the arena.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The bright strikes Nam barely evaded every time, leaving deep indent on the Mithril plates and stone below it.

Bam! Bam! Clank!

It seemed Nam finally decided to face his opponent and stop the wanton abuse of the arena floors. His sword was covered in the fox flames and his eyes...were closed? It worked, Nam seemingly relying on his other senses, was now able to keep up with his opponent's speed and attacks.

He managed to parry all the jabs and strikes coming his way, even counter-attacked. But even with the fox flames in addition to his sword aura was able to pass through the shell of light. It didn't seem like he would be able to get around dropping those bandages if he even wanted to put an injury on Bartholomew.

Unlike Lyca, the chosen of Baldur didn't force Name to take the bandages off. The cultivator struggled against the fist for another five minutes, before he decided to unseal his power of his own accord.

Once again, the broken, ripped open rib cage, empty apart from the rotten, desiccated offal, with the still beating heart was revealed to the world. At the same him, his aura almost doubled. The fight heated up again, as Nam started attacking faster and more vehemently.

“Haha, that's it!” the blank silhouette laughed joyfully when cuts and cracks started forming on the shell, wherever the burning blade hit. In reaction to that, Bartholomew started firing blazing white laser beams at random intervals that kept burning clean holes in the fabric and flesh of his opponent.

“Enough!” Nam exclaimed when one of these shots barely missed the heart in his ribcage. He was covered in a sickly clean aura and suddenly vanished for a fraction of a second. Anyone who blinked had missed in. In one moment he stood opposite the white figure, the next he was standing several meters behind it.

Blood stained the pure white figure. The glowing arms had fallen to the floor, their stumps bleeding profusely and there was a thing red line forming across Bartholomew's stomach area. In a split second, Nam had dismembered his opponent.

However, the cultivator didn't look good either. The close-ups showed the rot on his body slowly progressing, making its way across the face, and grasping for the beating heart in his chest. It seemed like he would die soon, but the fight wasn't over, yet.

A laser beam shot from the mouth of the figure behind him, directly pierced the heart, before the rot could claim it. Bartholomew Mathias had shown his incredible healing capabilities before. Bisecting him, was not enough.

“You should have gone for the head-” the chosen spat some nonsense right before he started puking blood and falling to the ground. It seemed that Nam's attack was still wreaking havoc on his body, still, he had won.

The body of the mysterious cultivator started fading away, as he was respawning in the medical wing, signaling the end of the match and making clear that they had a winner. It was a shocking outcome. The odds had been clearly in favor of Nam, yet the chosen from Urth had managed to endure and overcome his opponent.

To the left, Seth could hear Jane chuckle. This outcome must have made a lot of money at the betting office. While people in the arena already started getting it ready for the next fight, the blacksmith suddenly stood up.

“Where are you going, Seth?” Mina asked, seeing him suddenly leaving.

“I just got curious about something and wanted to go take a look,” the blacksmith said with a smile.

He had gotten curious about Cultivator Nam. The man was different from most of the other participants. Most of them were here for greed and fame. Some may have other goals, looking further than just getting their hand on a legendary weapon, but Nam seemed truly desperate for something.

Seth couldn't help but want to know, what he needed so desperately. After all, it didn't cost him anything to find out what he would have asked for, if he won.

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