The Return of the wilderness God

The Grand Finals

 

A stadium full of cheering people is just a slaughterhouse waiting for the blade to drop.

Ethan walked back out onto the blood-stained arena sand, his grip loose on a simple wooden practice sword he had snatched from the armory rack. The roar of twenty thousand spectators shook the massive stone columns of the stadium, completely unaware of the doom hanging over their heads.

"You are insane for stepping back out there," Valerie whispered from the edge of the dark entrance tunnel, her hands shaking as she adjusted her leather pack. "The trap is set. The old man said they are going to sacrifice everyone. We should be searching for the prison entrance, not playing their game."

"If I do not stand here, Kael will send the guards to hunt us down before we even reach the palace gates," Ethan said, keeping his eyes fixed on the royal viewing box. "He wants a show. I will give him one that breaks his stage."

"Just do not die," Valerie muttered. "I cannot navigate the lower levels without you."

The golden gates across the arena swung open with a heavy, metallic groan. Commander Kael stepped onto the sand, his white and gold cloak billowing behind him. In his right hand, he held a legendary blade that radiated a blinding, divine white light. The air around the sword crackled with pure spiritual heat, causing the sand beneath his boots to instantly turn into glass.

"I must admit, courier, I did not think you would have the courage to face me," Kael said, his voice echoing flawlessly across the massive stadium without the aid of a magic speaker. "Many men run when they realize the true gap between a peasant and a god."

"You talk a lot for someone who does not know how to hold a weapon properly," Ethan said, lifting his wooden stick and pointing it at Kael's chest. "Your right shoulder is dropped too low. You are leaning all your weight into the blade because it is too heavy for your spirit."

The crowd gasped at the absolute disrespect, but Kael merely laughed, his blue eyes turning incredibly cold. "Let us see if your little wooden toy can survive the divine light of the high heavens."

Kael moved like a flash of lightning. He disappeared from his spot and reappeared directly in front of Ethan, swinging his glowing blade in a massive vertical arc. The sheer pressure of the attack unleashed a roaring storm of divine energy, tearing a deep trench through the arena floor and sending a wave of absolute heat straight toward the stands.

Ethan did not retreat. He took a single, precise step to the left, letting the blinding white edge shave past his vest.

"That is the First Divine Verse," Kael roared, spinning on his heel to launch a barrage of thrusts that filled the air with hundreds of piercing light beams. "It is an ultimate style gifted to my ancestors by the supreme deities themselves. You cannot dodge forever, boy."

Ethan parried three of the light beams with his wooden stick, his movements smooth and unhurried. As he watched the flow of Kael's energy, a sudden look of complete disappointment crossed his face.

"This is your ultimate style?" Ethan asked, easily ducking under a horizontal slash that leveled a nearby stone pillar. "This is exactly what my mentors made me do to split kindling when I was five years old. It is not a divine gift. It is just a basic friction exercise used to start campfires when you do not have flint."

"Blasphemer!" Kael shrieked, his face twisting in pure fury as he raised his legendary sword high into the sky. "I will erase your entire existence from this continent!"

The silver-haired commander poured every ounce of his spiritual reserve into the blade. The weapon grew so bright that the spectators had to shield their eyes. A massive, swirling vortex of holy light expanded from the sword, threatening to consume the entire stadium in a single, devastating blast.

"I am done playing with you," Ethan said softly.

He stopped holding back his internal reserves. A dense, cold wave of pure spiritual pressure erupted from Ethan's body, completely freezing the air in the center of the arena. He slid his right foot back, twisted his hips by a fraction of an inch, and brought his wooden practice sword down with absolute, blinding speed. It was a flawless, fundamental strike.

A sharp, deafening crack echoed through the stadium.

The legendary divine blade, blessed by the supreme deities, shattered into a thousand tiny silver shards. Kael's glorious white light vanished instantly, replaced by a dull, hollow silence. The commander stared down at his empty, bleeding hands in utter disbelief, his knees buckling beneath him as the raw momentum of Ethan's strike forced him to the ground.

"My sword," Kael whispered, his voice trembling as he looked up at the unbroken wooden stick in Ethan's hand. "How can a piece of pine break the iron of the gods?"

"Because your gods do not understand the fundamentals," Ethan said, lowering his weapon.

Before the stunned crowd could even begin to process the defeat of their greatest champion, a deep, terrifying grinding sound vibrated from the very center of the earth. The entire stadium began to tilt violently.

Chapter Hook: As Kael fell back into the sand, the arena floor split open into a massive, jagged chasm, and a towering purple vortex of dark Abyss energy erupted from the depths, creating a powerful gravitational pull that began dragging thousands of screaming spectators straight down into the black abyss below.