Chapter 653 - 653: [653] : Make Every Martial Artist in the World Think You're the Heavens Above

The trial operation was exactly that—trial. The entire process was gloriously casual.

And so, after about twenty minutes, as the previous Rating Game in the arena below concluded, an impassioned female announcer's voice rang out through the venue's broadcast system.

"Thank you to both teams for that spectacular battle! And now we have some huge surprise news to share with everyone!"

"The next match will be a one-on-one showdown between the [King] of the 'Bael Team' from the Great King Bael family—Sairaorg Bael—and the [King] of the 'Harem Number One Team' from the Gremory family—Bokue Keikain!"

Pfft—

At that moment, in the competitor lounge at the top of the coliseum, Bokue—who had been having fruit fed to him by Akeno—nearly choked on his own windpipe.

"Why is that the team name?"

Bokue clearly remembered that when he'd filled out the form, Serafall had him list all the members for each position. The only thing she hadn't mentioned was the team name.

Logically, shouldn't the team just be named after whichever faction it belonged to?

Sairaorg's side was "Bael Team." His side should at least be "Gremory Team," right? Or even "Itogami Team" would work.

"Sorry, sorry~ I forgot to mention that part."

Just then, Serafall—who had been leaning against the window watching outside—turned around. She tilted her head cutely, stuck out her tongue, and bonked her own head in an attempt to charm her way out of this.

"The thing is, every team still needs its own name. But since we were in such a rush to submit the registration form, there wasn't time to deliberate. So big sis here personally came up with one."

"Pretty good, right? Hehehe~"

As she finished speaking, apparently moved by her own brilliance, she even proudly put her hands on her hips and puffed out her modest chest.

Bokue: "..."

Forget it. No point dwelling on this.

"I'm heading out."

He glanced through the window at the audience seating below—which had erupted into absolute chaos after the announcer's words—and stepped forward. His figure instantly vanished from the lounge.

Almost the moment he left, a teleportation circle suddenly lit up in the lounge, revealing two distinctly different feminine silhouettes.

Along with them came the bickering voices of a certain Red Dragon Empress and White Dragon Empress.

"See, I told you it was here! But no, Albion, you just wouldn't believe me. How can you be so dense..."

"You clearly said the palace!"

❁❁❁❁

The scene shifted to the dueling platform.

When Bokue appeared, Sairaorg had already arrived first.

Under the blazing Underworld sun, the two stood on the platform about twenty meters apart.

The entire dueling platform measured two thousand paces on each side, constructed entirely from the hardest Underworld stone.

Normally, this type of rock was used to build towering walls to repel foreign invasions. Impervious to blades and spears, it also possessed excellent magical absorption properties—capable of fully absorbing low to mid-tier magic without sustaining any damage. Extremely durable.

Perfect for serving as the stage for the International Ranking Tournament.

Bokue looked up. The Sairaorg standing before him now was somewhat different from twenty minutes ago.

In the lounge, Sairaorg had been wearing casual black athletic wear. Now he'd donned a set of gleaming golden lion armor.

His original short black hair was pressed down beneath a heavy helm, replaced by the golden lion's mane forged atop it.

"What is this, Elden Lord cosplay?"

Bokue raised an eyebrow.

How to put it—Sairaorg's look really did resemble General Radahn, except Radahn had red hair while this was gold.

Pretty damn cool, though.

"Sorry, brother-in-law. Even though we agreed on one-on-one, I cheated a little. I want to fight you at my absolute peak."

Sairaorg lightly brushed his golden-gauntleted hand across the lion head emblazoned on his breastplate.

"Let me introduce you. This is my [Pawn]—Regulus. Though he normally appears as a young boy, his true form is actually the Longinus [Regulus Nemea]. When I first encountered him, his original host had already died. The spirit that should have immediately vanished to seek its next host had instead killed the enemy through sheer willpower and continued guarding his former master's side. I thought it might be fate, so I made him my companion."

"And now is the moment to demonstrate our bond—Balance Breaker: [Regulus Rey Leather Rex]!"

BOOM—!

As Sairaorg finished speaking, he crouched low with fists clenched at his sides. Surging fighting spirit erupted from within him, nearly solidifying into physical form. Even the dueling platform—paved with thick Underworld stone—began to tremble.

Bokue let out a drawn-out "Mm."

"It's fine. Come at me with your best."

"ALRIGHT!!!"

Hearing this, Sairaorg abandoned all restraint. He straightened abruptly and roared like a Super Saiyan powering up.

Simultaneously, his fighting spirit completely broke free of control, exploding outward to blanket the entire arena. The very air around them seemed to buckle under its weight.

This was an energy entirely different from magical power or spiritual force—originating not from mind or strength, but from the most mysterious source of all: life itself.

It was a power that could only be trained through inhuman, grueling training. It was also the only power available to Sairaorg—born of the Bael family yet unable to inherit their Power of Destruction, branded as a "magical failure."

"HAAAAAAHHH!!!"

As Sairaorg pushed his power to its absolute limit, the addition of his Longinus Balance Breaker launched him past the ceiling of Ultimate-Class Devil straight into Demon Lord territory.

He crouched and took a single step forward. His speed was so extreme that his figure blurred, seeming to vanish entirely in the spectators' eyes.

The ground where he'd stood instantly shattered and cratered, as if struck by a small meteorite, the damage radiating outward in all directions.

The ground between Sairaorg and Bokue looked as though it had been sliced by a storm blade—shattering and scattering into the air.

When Sairaorg reappeared, he was already before the young man, eyes bloodshot, nostrils flaring.

Just as he'd declared before the fight began—this was an all-out battle. He had brought every ounce of power he possessed.

Including killing intent!

In that instant, wind lashed across Bokue's face. A fist carrying the weight of ten thousand tons was already upon him.

But Bokue merely exhaled softly.

"You got it wrong from the start. A martial artist must train his mouth before his fists. If you've already conceded in your mind that you're weaker than your opponent before even throwing a punch—how can you possibly win?"

"Listen well: we martial artists bow to no one. When we throw a punch, heaven and earth should tremble. Gods and immortals should kneel and kowtow. Every martial artist in the world should look upon you as the heavens above!"

With that, the young man threw his punch to meet the attack.

A single strike—irresistible force tore through Sairaorg's chest, instantly shattering his golden armor before bursting out through his back. The shockwave pierced the clouds for ten thousand miles, leaving a trail of shattered starlight across the heavens above.

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