460 Bottom Ninety 2
The leaders of the other planets couldn't help but narrow their eyes.
It wasn't a secret to anyone how weak this universe was. Even they had celestial experts that couldn't claim to have transcendent level weapons. At most they might have a few high-level master weapons. Maybe the luckier ones could claim to have lower grandmaster level weapons. And yet, now, there was first Dyon and his wives, and now this child too? What was going on?
Many had thoughts of taking Dyon's treasures, they just didn't dare to lose face so publicly. But now it seemed they had another target as well. The leaders of the Royal God Clans couldn't help but snort to themselves. They were the true leaders of the universe, and yet this genius of a mere God Clan and another genius of a dead and gone sect dared to be so brazen before them. As ridiculous as it sounded, they took it as a slap to the face.
That said, maybe most fittingly, there were only two leaders thinking this way. King Clyte and King Aumen.
Vidar's opponent turned a slight glance toward the silver spear, immediately deducing that it wasn't normal. In truth, he hadn't expected to be challenged so early. After all, he was ranked seventh currently. The safest bet for anyone would have been to challenge the ninth ranker, thereby avoiding Dyon, but still taking on a relatively weak opponent. But, it seemed that Vidar's pride had gotten the best of him.
If the seventh ranker was aware of this logic, most others would be aware too. His father had already told him to avoid Dyon, but he couldn't bring himself to choose the easiest opponent either. So, he went up as far as he could to a point where he thought he could still take an easy victory.
The seventh ranker, though, wasn't amused.
He was a member of Planet Nix, thus he had a very strong animosity toward Dyon. He hadn't been there when Ulu was disrespected, but it was enough for him to know that their queen had been. He had no intention of losing before he could face Dyon.
The final competition between the top ten would be a round robin. This meant that Planet Nix would have plenty of opportunities to cut Dyon down before eventually allowing their King to seal him. He was stronger than they had expected, but very few had any awareness of how powerful their King Zabia Jafari was. This Dyon was nothing before him.
The seventh ranker, Yazid Jafari, snorted as he took a good look at this Vidar Ragnor.
"Your pride will be your downfall," His words were simple and to the point. He didn't like to waste his time or energy. He would quickly dispatch with this person and be on his way.
In an instant, nine swords appeared in the air, hovering in a seemingly random pattern. But, those who were experts could feel the slight fluctuations in space and time around those swords… Their formation wasn't so simple.
The faint ripples in space gave the swords a sharpness that shouldn't be underestimated. However, what was truly scary were the wrinkles in time. Even Dyon frowned at this, looking toward Yazid Jafari with a serious expression.
The swords seemed to fade in an out of existence. In one instant there would be nine, at others there would be one, and in others there would be as many as 81!
They all seemed real, and yet ethereal all at the same time. There was simply no ease in explaining the phenomenon… And neither did Yazid bother to explain it either.
'Planet Nix.' Dyon narrowed his eyes. 'Their use of wills is quite… profound.'
Vidar's energy exploded.
Arcs of lightning spread wildly, trying to disrupt the odd field generated by the sword formation.
His spear pointed forward, glowing brightly as it heated under the pressure of his will. The transcendent weapon immediately reacted to its owners change, sending terrifying undulations through the arena.
"My pride?" Vidar sneered, "Eat my spear."
Vidar's black robes burst, revealing a toned and heavily scarred body as he flashed forward.
'Fast.' Yazid's silver eyes focused. 'But speed means nothing before me.'
Yazid stood, completely unmoved. His swords glided through the air, glistening with odd blacks and silvers. Each movement seemed deliberate, and slow, and yet just fast enough regardless.
Vidar was shocked. He should have reached Yazid's position in an instant of time – they had only been separated by a few hundred meters at the most. For a lower essence gathering expert like him, especially with his main will of lightning being at the ninth level, it should have been child's play. And yet… one… two… three breaths of time and he was still half way to his position?
Every step forward felt like three back.
"Choosing me as your opponent was a mistake." Yazid spoke calmly.
Vidar's eyes flashed, 'Danger!' His body twisted, spinning in the air as he tucked his spear against himself.
There was no sound. No fluctuation in the wind. Nearly no sign at all. And yet, blood began to run down Vidar's arm as a slice appeared on his arm.
'What?...' Vidar's eyes narrowed as he took a look at the space around him. Other than faint and odd ripples that almost looked like the sky on an extremely hot day, there were no other oddities. If he hadn't felt his lightning arcs being sliced through, he would have never sensed the sword coming. He may very well have lost in a single move!
Vidar stood from his kneeling position, his energy much more focused. He spread his lightning outwards, using it as an extended nervous system to boost his reaction time. This was a good passive ability of lightning and was coming in handy now.
The bleeding of his arm didn't seem intent on stopping. In fact, it was getting worse. The wills Yazid had used were too profound for Vidar to heal it on a whim.
However, that was when something that shocked everyone occurred.
Tens of wounds appeared on Vidar's body in an instant, sending jets of blood every which way.
The flesh of his bare torso immediately became mangled and drenched.
Vidar's spear stabbed into the ground, sending violent arcs of lightning into his surrounding as his expression darkened.
"Your body is quite tough." Yazid said nonchalantly, "I was trying to take at least an arm before making you quit. Consider yourself lucky. Take this opportunity to get off of my stage."
"And if I don't?" Vidar sneered.
"I'll have to kill you."
"Kill me, hm?" Vidar mocked, "Everyone seems to think that lightning is all our Ragnor family is known for. You can blame that on an overly famous for nothing ancestor of mine."
Vidar's body began to slowly expand. "However, I'm not Thor." His voice boomed through the arena. "I am the embodiment of vengeance. The Giant of the Ragnors. The silent god, who frankly, is quite tired of being known as such."
In an instant, Vidar stood at 20 meters tall, his weight crushing the arena below his feet.
"I am Vidar."