461 Bottom Ninety 3
Vidar's hulking figure stood tall in the fluctuating space Yazid's formation provided. His spear hadn't expanded along with him, but it seemed he was prepared for something exactly like this.
In an instant, the spear that had become nothing more than a toothpick in his hands was replaced by another one that could be more accurately described as a massive pole that just so happened to have a blade near the top of it.
The spear was massive, being 25-meters tall and so thick that even Vidar's large hands barely wrapped around it.
Yazid's eyes narrowed, 'This is a problem. His expansion wasn't superfluous… His mass increased along with his size – he quite literally made more of himself. How is that possible?!'
Usually with expansion techniques, they would be exactly that – simple expansion. The mass of the person wouldn't change, despite what the perception was. Originally, Yazid had assumed that Vidar's technique was exactly that with the usual simple strength boost. If that was the case, it would be easy to handle.
However, the reality was well beyond his estimation. Vidar's body had become akin to a dense white star an instant away from collapsing into a black hole. The amount of matter he had condensed into himself nearly made gravity bend toward him instead of the planet!
'If he can – ' Yazid's thoughts were cut off by his exact fear acting out before him.
The arcs of lightning around Vidar amplified, matching his obscene size. And then, his hulking figure disappeared.
Yazid's worse fears had been realized. His technique relied heavily on manipulating the space and time laws around a given space. However, such things came with a limit.
If there was too much energy output to control, his formation would fail. If the energy quality was above his ability to manipulate, his formation would fail. If the area his needed to control was too large, his formation would fail.
But, none of those were the reason…
If the mass of his opponent was too large… His formation would fail.
Yazid tore through space, attempting to get away from the attack his knew was coming. But, a sharp pain suddenly permeated through his entire back even as he did so.
The skin of his back tore apart, charring and burning under the relentless lightning. Yazid grit his teeth, closing himself within space and appearing hundreds of meters away.
Blood dripped from his back as his dark skin became tainted in red.
Vidar's rumbling laugh filled the arena, "Seems my spear couldn't reach you. I was trying to take your life, to be honest." Vidar sneered. "You can consider yourself lucky. Take this opportunity to get off of my stage."
Yazid frowned. He didn't care that Vidar was throwing his own words back at him. What he cared about was whether or not he could win this.
It was clear that his formation wouldn't work anymore. His understanding was far more superficial than his younger cousin, so he could never hope to manipulate the space around such a large mass. But, regardless, he still had to win. Even if he couldn't make use of his illusory-like techniques, how many could match the sharpness of his swords? All he had to do was make use of his experience and cultivation advantage to dispatch this Vidar character.
Twin short swords appeared in Yazid's hands as he flashed forward, not giving Vidar the opportunity to take the initiative again.
"Haha," Vidar's voice boomed, "I commend you for your quick decision making."
His massive spear arched forward, bending under the strength of his arms. The speed of his strike was much too fast for the size of his body, and yet he did it. The most shocking part was that Vidar had yet to comprehend spatial laws, and yet the simple movement of his body sent ripples and cracks in space. No… That wasn't all. All the laws of the world seemed to crack under his presence. Quite simply put… He had the body of a god.
Yazid's short swords were dwarfed and the space he controlled was completely torn apart by Vidar, and yet it was all too late.
Their clash was like an irritated home owner swatting away a pesky fly.
Yazid's body flew through air, his bones crushing under the weight of the impact. He had managed to stop the sharpness of the spear from reaching him, mostly because Vidar couldn't control his use of space, but that didn't stop the endless lightning from searing his skin and paralyzing his muscles.
Not once in this competition had Vidar used his faith seed. And yet, in the moment he had, he brought out a domineering display that belittled Dyon's accomplishments.
Dyon had destroyed the 11th ranker with a few punches. But, so what?
Vidar flashed forward to end it all when a sudden message entered his ears, "Don't kill him."
How could Vidar not recognize his own father's voice? Even he didn't know what his father's plans were, but he, much like every other Ragnor, had no choice but to follow.
"Consider yourself lucky, I guess." Vidar repeated himself as he watched Yazid crash far outside of the arena in a sorry state.
Settling down, Vidar took his spot at the center of the stage that was now his. Surprisingly, the cuts that Yazid had inflicted upon him were healed but hadn't disappeared. Instead, they formed new scars along his body. Scars Vidar wore like badges of honor.
Sure, Dyon had demolished the 11th ranker… But Vidar had just done the same to the 7th… Just where had all these outstanding young men come from? The crowd cheered loudly, all the more excited to see the next rounds. How long had it been since a member of the top ten was dethroned? And now they had gotten to see it twice already!
Vidar's gaze set itself upon Dyon who was still reclined, his eyes closed as though he was taking a nap.
"Enjoy your rest while you can mortal. Your act isn't fooling me." Vidar sneered, sending his voice directly to Dyon's mind.
Dyon opened an eye, giving Vidar a cursory glance.
"Ten moves." He said nonchalantly before closing his eyes once again, smiling to himself as he leisurely resumed chatting with his wives.