A pulse of bloodlight swept outward, burning the tendrils to ash in an instant.
Then he shot forward and caught Makai mid-cast.
He drove his fist into Makai's stomach—hard enough to make the Voidling's back arch violently. Then, without waiting, Asher spun and kicked him in the chest. Makai's body went flying again, this time smashing into a floating platform with enough force to shatter it completely.
Asher landed slowly, looking at the damage.
He didn't follow up. He didn't rush.
Makai slowly pulled himself from the wreckage, half of his body reforming from shadow mist. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared at Asher with narrowed eyes.
Asher tilted his head slightly, then spoke again—his voice still casual, but more serious now.
"You're strong," he admitted. "Stronger than the rest. But I've seen your limit."
Makai didn't answer. He formed twin scythes of dark energy in his hands and crouched low.
Asher's tone hardened.
"I know exactly how powerful you are now."
He raised his arm. The crimson glow behind him intensified, swirling into a vortex of compressed death law and bloodlight.
"And I only need 60% to beat you."
Makai's breathing was uneven now. His form flickered—no longer as fluid as before. Shadow-tendrils wavered around him, twitching in frustration. He stared at Asher, who stood calmly, his aura still building, the vortex of bloodlight behind him now crackling with suppressed force.
"You dare mock me?" Makai growled, voice layered with distortion.
"I'm not mocking you," Asher said, voice steady. "I'm just being honest. You've peaked."
For a moment, silence.
Then Makai screamed—and the Void Sovereign truly revealed himself.
His body expanded, warping and stretching until he stood three times his normal height. Shadow wings tore free from his back—vast, asymmetrical things shaped like broken razors and clouds. His head split, forming a void-maw with countless glowing eyes spiraling inside. His hands vanished entirely, replaced by coils of pure null-energy that pulsed with chaotic law.
Space broke around him.
Even the air groaned as Makai's full power pushed against the arena's limits. Several anchor runes exploded from overload. Defensive formations in the walls flickered and died. A few weaker spectators in the upper balconies collapsed from the pressure alone.
And yet… Asher didn't move.
"Now," Makai snarled, his voice rippling in multiple layers, "I'll show you what a real Sovereign is."
And then everything attacked at once.
From above, spears of void rained down like missiles. From below, null-tendrils burst upward like claws. Makai reappeared directly in front of Asher, his monstrous body twisting into a spiral of teeth, blades, and entropy. He struck with the power to dissolve laws—laws that most cultivators lived by.
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The Bloodlit Dominion flared behind him. The vortex of crimson energy condensed into six overlapping wings, each marked by ancient blood-forged runes. His body surged forward at a diagonal, cleanly slipping past the void strikes. One flap of his wings shattered a dozen void spears mid-air.
Makai tried to block, twisting a shield of space in front of him—but Asher punched through it.
The hit landed square on Makai's chest. The impact detonated with a crimson explosion.
Makai was hurled backward again—but Asher didn't give him time to recover.
He appeared behind Makai mid-flight, heel crashing into his spine. The Void Sovereign was slammed into the ground so hard the entire arena shifted downward, platforms breaking apart like glass.
Asher didn't pause. His aura climbed—this was his 60%.
Bloodlines coiled around his arms like living serpents. The very air around him turned heavy with absolute killing intent. His eyes were now fully crimson, no whites remaining, glowing like furnaces. Each heartbeat sent a shockwave through the space.
Makai tried to rise, but his body flickered in and out, struggling to maintain shape.
Asher raised one hand. A long spear formed—pure blood, hardened into crystal, laced with Death Law, Sovereign Aura, and a streak of cutting intent so sharp it split the ground simply by existing.
"No more games," Asher said.
Makai raised his arms to block—but the spear ignored them, phasing past his void-body and slamming directly into the core of his existence. His eyes went wide. Time itself slowed.
The explosion was silent. No sound. No light. Just an instant collapse of presence. Makai's body folded inward, swallowed by his own unraveling laws. His wings shattered. His aura died. What remained of him drifted like ash in a wind no one could feel.
The arena was silent again.
Asher landed softly, exhaling once.
From above, the Spiremaster stood and slowly raised a hand.
"Victory. Asher, Crimson Blood Sovereign."
The scrying mirrors flared with his image. The remaining crowd, silent from awe, finally exhaled.
Down below, Asher didn't speak.
He simply turned away, blood aura retracting, wings fading back into him.
Valeris leaned forward in the VIP balcony, arms crossed. "Sixty percent," she muttered. "And the others thought they had a chance."
Veyra, still watching from the balcony, smiled faintly as Makai's remains were pulled into the void.
"They still don't understand," she said softly. "He hasn't even used the Reapers."
Valeris gave a small nod, her arms folded across her chest. "And most of them won't live long enough to find out what happens when he does."
Down in the arena, the blood-smeared platforms began to shimmer and repair as formation scripts reactivated. Floating fragments of law and shattered aether dissolved into clean motes of light.
But the Spiremaster raised one hand before the arena fully reset.
A pulse of layered dimensional magic surged from his palm. Space cracked momentarily—then realigned.
Makai's body reappeared in the upper section of the auction venue, restored through resurrection rites tied to the battle contract. He staggered, coughing violently, one hand clutching his chest. Even though his body was whole again, the memory of death clung to him like frost. His face was pale, and a thin trail of black blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
He groaned quietly and muttered under his breath, "What… was that pressure…"
The Spiremaster gave him only a glance before addressing the hall.
"Asher, Crimson Blood Sovereign," he announced, voice perfectly measured. "The Void-Linked Astral Crystal is now yours."
From a floating altar behind the Spiremaster, a crystal the size of a heart—dark purple and shot through with silver void-veins—rose into the air and gently floated down toward Asher.
Asher caught it with one hand, inspecting it briefly. The void energy curled around his fingers, drawn into his aura for a moment before he stored the crystal inside his personal inventory.
He gave no speech. No thanks.
He simply stepped aside.
The Spiremaster didn't wait.
"Now," he said, his voice returning to its crisp business tone, "for the fourth item on today's list."