Chapter 133: Quarter Final Begins

Chapter 133

The arena was overflowing—packed tighter than it had been the previous day. It was as if the seats had multiplied overnight to contain the sheer volume of spectators. Word of the previous day’s battles had spread like wildfire, electrifying the city. Those lucky enough to witness them firsthand hadn’t wasted a second in sharing what they’d seen, their retellings filled with awe, exaggeration, and contagious excitement.

Everyone was talking.

Jay vs. Blazer — a duel that left spectators breathless.

Ronan and Argon’s brutal contest — raw and unfiltered.

Elexa’s overwhelming dominance — her performance likened to a deity’s, earning her the nickname "the lightning princess."

Balor’s tense confrontation with the enigmatic Null.

And the most talked-about of all — Almighty, who dismantled his opponent with two effortless moves, barely breaking a sweat.

Then there was the savage, pulse-pounding battle between Clara and Kalen, followed by the unexpectedly thrilling matchup between Silver Wing and the mysterious "Little One."

Each fight had been a spectacle, a masterpiece in motion. Now, the audience was ravenous for more.

But the quarterfinals didn’t begin right away. Instead, Lord Tech took center stage—quite literally.



Hovering above the arena on a sleek, floating platform crafted from glowing tech-metal, Lord Tech stood confidently, a levitating mic-like device before him.

> "Welcome to the quarterfinals of the Tournament of Power," he announced, his voice amplified and rich with command. "To all the warriors who’ve endured grueling trials—both the selection rounds and yesterday’s unforgettable matches—you’ve proven yourselves as exceptional combatants."

A ripple of applause echoed through the stadium.

> "Now, listen carefully. While only the top ten contenders were originally meant to receive the awards, we’ve decided to make a special addition. Two disqualified fighters with the highest point ratings will be selected to compete for the top ten prizes."

The crowd murmured in surprise, intrigued by the twist.

Lord Tech’s tone dropped slightly, his lips curling into a sly smile.

> "But the real glory lies beyond. The true prize—what most of you are really here for—is reserved for the top three."

He turned, extending a hand toward the VIP section. A section of the elegant viewing platform shimmered and opened like a vault door. From within, a cylindrical glass container rose, and inside it floated a glowing pink shard, pulsing softly with divine energy.

> "Behold—the Evol Shard," Lord Tech declared. "To the champion of this tournament, it shall be awarded. And to the one who claims it... the path to becoming a Class S Hero may very well be yours."

The crowd erupted. Cheers thundered across the arena like a wave crashing against stone. Even from afar, spectators could feel the shard’s radiance—its power tugged at their cores, primal and ancient, almost holy.

---

In the VIP section, Han’s gaze locked onto the Evol Shard. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of hope and desperation shining within them.

> That’s it... the key, he thought. With that shard, I can buy more time... I can keep Aunt Mei alive until we find a cure.

But something didn’t sit right. Han’s brow furrowed.

> Why reveal the shard now? he wondered. It was meant to be unveiled only in the final match... or handed off discreetly to the winner. Displaying it so openly... it’s a risk. Too many eyes, too many desires.

Still, despite his unease, Han’s resolve remained firm.

> Whatever their scheme is... I don’t care. I need that shard. Nothing else matters.

---

Elsewhere in the VIP stands, another figure watched the announcement with casual interest—Drake. His sharp eyes flicked between the Evol Shard and Lord Tech, an amused smile teasing the corners of his lips.

> "Even a toddler could see this is bait," he murmured.

He leaned back in his seat, his expression cool, unreadable.

> They want to lure us out. Force a move. Reveal hidden players.

Drake wasn’t fooled. He saw the trap, but he was more than willing to walk into it—on his terms.

With a smirk, he turned to the man beside him. The warrior wore a headband to conceal the faint glow of his third eye. Drake whispered something into his ear.

The man nodded and swiftly vanished from the box.

> You want a game? Drake thought. Then I’ll play. Let’s see whose trap closes first.

After Lord Tech’s speech concluded, the arena echoed with thunderous applause. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and tension. As the floating platform receded, the familiar announcer strode onto the stage, greeted with a cheer of his own.

"Welcome back, everyone!" he beamed, offering a few witty remarks that drew scattered laughter from the crowd. "Glad to see we’re all still alive after yesterday’s heart attacks. I, for one, had to check if my heart was still beating after that Almighty match."

After a few more chuckles, he cleared his throat and turned serious.

> "Now then, let’s get down to business. Contestants for the first match—please step forward!"

The crowd fell into a heavy silence as the first figure emerged.

A young man dressed entirely in black made his way toward the stage. His expression was unreadable—calm, detached, and cold. But there was no denying his presence. He was handsome, with sharp features and medium-length black hair that fell carelessly across his forehead. There was something unnervingly focused about him—like a drawn blade waiting to strike.

Cheers rang out despite his silence. This was Ronan, the dual-blade master, known for his merciless precision. His twin swords, secured on his back, shimmered under the sunlight as he ascended the stage.

Then the second contestant walked forward.

With hair split perfectly down the middle—black on one side, white on the other—his identity was unmistakable.

> "It’s Fire God!" someone in the crowd yelled.

Cheers erupted instantly as Han gave the audience a calm wave and stepped onto the stage. Unlike Ronan’s cold stillness, Han moved with quiet confidence—controlled, composed, and seemingly unfazed by the growing tension.

The audience leaned forward in unison, hearts pounding, eyes glued to the arena.

The announcer raised his voice again.

> "In yesterday’s battles, these two made their mark—Ronan, the ruthless blade master who left no opponent breathing, and Han, the so-called Fire God who has yet to even reveal his flames. Today, they face each other on this very stage."

He paused dramatically.

> "Will Han finally be pushed to use his fire? Or will Ronan prove to be a storm too sharp to withstand? Only this match will decide that."



Then, with a flick of his fingers, the announcer snapped—BOOM. A loud sound burst like thunder, signaling the start of the match.

Han turned his head slightly, eyes locked on Ronan. He didn’t move—he waited. Calm, calculating.

> As long as he doesn’t use his Switch Skill, this shouldn’t be a problem, Han thought.

But then Ronan did something unexpected.

He slowly unsheathed both of his blades. The crowd leaned forward, anticipating a swift strike...

Then—he re-sheathed them.

"I forfeit," Ronan said casually.

The words echoed like a shockwave.

He turned and walked past a stunned Han, who managed to whisper, "Why?"

Ronan didn’t look back. "Because I can’t win," he said simply. "And I need my strength... for when it really matters."

With that, he descended the stage and disappeared, leaving the arena in stunned silence.

Han remained still for a moment, blinking. Then he nodded. This wasn’t what he expected—but a win was a win.

The silence didn’t last.

"WHAT?!"

"COME BACK AND FIGHT!"

"THIS ISN’T FAIR!"

The crowd erupted into chaos. Outrage. Disbelief. Disappointment.

Some screamed in frustration. Others sat slack-jawed. A few, so emotionally invested in the battle, looked like they were about to cry.

They weren’t to blame.

The arena had been buzzing with theories and speculations—fans crafting elaborate predictions. Some believed Ronan would bring hell with his blades. Others were convinced Han would finish the battle in a flash with his infamous red-eyed glare.

But now... there was no fight. No payoff. Just confusion.

The announcer, sensing the turmoil, quickly stepped forward to calm the storm.

> "Ladies and gentlemen, please—do not let your disappointment cloud your judgment. This tournament is full of surprises, and anything can happen! That was only the first match of the day—many more battles await!"

Gradually, the tension ebbed. The murmurs subsided. The disappointed were consoled by the promise of more excitement to come.

With the crowd finally settling, the announcer resumed his place.

> "Now... for our second match... let’s welcome to the stage—Elexa vs. Null!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, their earlier frustration over the first match completely forgotten. The atmosphere reignited, buzzing with anticipation. After all, this was the match many had truly come to see.

Both Elexa and Null had left lasting impressions in their previous battles.

Elexa, the electrifying prodigy, had defeated her last opponent in the literal blink of an eye—so fast that many in the audience only saw the aftermath. And then there was Null. Silent. Unmoving. Mysterious. He had calmly dismantled one of the A6’s finest—the Stealth King, who also happened to be Elexa’s older brother—without ever moving from his initial position.

A feat like that sent shockwaves through the entire stadium.

But of course, it was expected to some degree. Null wasn’t just anyone—he was the leader of Class A, the undisputed Rank One Hero among the A6. Even his title, Null, evoked unease... as if he represented something beyond comprehension.

The announcer took center stage again, his voice booming with theatrical flair. Cameras hovered above, capturing every moment.

> "Ladies and gentlemen—on the right we have the Terrifying Princess! Adorable, elegant, and deadly—a walking paradox. With grace like wind and fury like thunder, she’s torn through her path to the quarterfinals without so much as a scratch!"

The crowd howled with approval.

> "And on the left... the enigma. The shadow. The void. Null—a being shrouded in mystery. Unshaken, unstoppable, unreadable. His previous match had even the boldest spectators holding their breath as he took down the famed Stealth King.

A dramatic pause.

> "But only one will move forward into the semifinals. Will it be the princess of power? Or the shadow of silence?"

> "Let the second match—BEGIN!"

He snapped his fingers, and a thunderous bang echoed through the arena.

On the field, Elexa tilted her head slightly, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

"You must be strong," she said playfully, her voice echoing across the field. "To beat my brother like that... impressive."

No response.



The being standing across from her—Null—was more silhouette than person. A swirling void of dark mist cloaked his form, his face a twisting abyss of shadows with no discernible features. Yet his presence was undeniable. Heavy. Ancient. Silent.

Elexa’s smile widened.

> "But don’t think I’m anything like him."

Her hair began to rise, charged with static. Lightning crackled at her fingertips, snaking up her arms as the air itself trembled around her.

> "I’m faster. I’m stronger. I’m more dangerous."

With a sudden surge of force, she shot into the air, electricity bursting around her like a violent storm. The sky above seemed to shimmer with power, clouds parting as arcs of blue lightning danced across her body.

She pointed a single finger down toward Null, her voice ringing out with bold finality:

> "And you—are going to lose. Here and now."

Then, with a wink, she declared:

> "It’s Sparkle Time."

---

To be continued...