The moment the Grand Devil’s voice declared the start of the match...
A flash of silver. A twist of her foot. A ripple spread under her heel, and in that instant, she vanished.
The red-clothed fighter blinked.
A crisp, echoing slap rang out.
The entire arena stilled.
The audience fell silent.
The proud warrior from Universe Twelve, his head was turned violently to the side, five fresh red marks burning on his cheek.
His rings jingled as his hand instinctively shot up to cover the mark.
Kaelra stood behind him.
Not a strand of hair out of place. Calm as ever. Her eyes never changed.
"You talk too much," she said coldly, her first words.
The crowd erupted. Some gasped. Others shouted. Even the monks of Universe Two opened their eyes.
"That speed... I didn’t even see her move!"
The red fighter growled and spun around.
He raised his hand. Power surged, red and violent.
But Kaelra stepped forward again, and disappeared.
This time, she didn’t slap.
The man’s body bent like a broken stick. He flew backward, crashing across the arena floor. Stones cracked. Dust rose. His red robe was ripped down the middle.
Kaelra walked slowly toward him.
Her voice was still calm.
"You thought we were weak? Because we didn’t bark like dogs?"
The man tried to rise, coughing blood.
Kaelra raised a hand, and in it, a strange light flickered. Her soul force, sharp and precise like a blade.
The crowd saw it and sucked in cold air.
"She’s suppressing him! That’s pure control!"
She pointed two fingers toward the man on the ground.
The force pressed down. He gasped. His body wouldn’t move.
"You spent all your energy talking," Kaelra said, "and none preparing."
She looked him in the eyes.
"Let me teach you the price of arrogance."
Right cheek this time.
Even the proud cultivators of Universe Twelve fell silent.
Barseagle chuckled from the gate. "That’s the Kaelra I know."
The Grand Elder nodded once. "A clean opening. Dominance without waste."
Lys smiled faintly. "He’ll never speak loud again."
Damon grinned. "She’s not even warmed up."
Back on the stage, Kaelra stood over the trembling fighter.
"You came in like a lion. Leave like a dog."
She raised her hand again, energy swirling.
But the Grand Devil’s voice rang out:
She stood, looking down.
The fighter lay in defeat, eyes wide with fear. His face was bruised, his pride shattered.
"First round: Victory—Universe One!"
Cheers thundered across the arena.
Even fighters from other Universes narrowed their eyes.
"...So Universe One has hidden dragons after all."
Kaelra turned, walking back without another glance.
She passed Damon, who held out his hand. She high-fived him without a word.
Barseagle nodded in satisfaction. "That’s one down."
Ian smiled faintly in the crowd.
The Universe had just seen the first blow.
And it hurt them inwardly.
The thunderous cheers from the first match still echoed across the Arena of Supremacy, but Kaelra was already walking away, her expression calm, indifferent, as though slapping a proud genius into the dirt was no more than brushing dust off her shoulder.
As she stepped off the stage, the crimson-robed team of Universe Twelve gathered around their fallen teammate. Two helped him to his feet. He wobbled, face swollen, pride broken, ki in disarray. Blood dripped from his lips, but no one from Universe Twelve said a word.
Their pride had taken the first wound.
Kaelra walked past Damon without speaking. He didn’t need words.
He looked at her, nodded once, then cracked his knuckles.
He stepped onto the stage, casual, hands in his pockets, posture lazy, as though the match was just a minor chore. Yet every step he took sent ripples through the air. The ground beneath his feet shook lightly, responding to the immense pressure.
A calm tiger, not asleep, only waiting to maul.
On the other side, Universe Twelve whispered among themselves.
"Let me," a tall, golden-haired youth said, brushing his long sleeves. His voice was cold and arrogant, his robe embroidered with two dragons coiling around his chest. The insignia of his bloodline glowed faintly.
"Yin Tu," someone whispered. "The Prodigy of the Twin Dragon Sect of Universe Twelve."
He smirked. "I’ll handle him in three moves."
As Yin Tu stepped forward, the crowd began to stir again.
"Is that... the famous prodigy who reached the Nascent Soul Realm at age fifteen?"
"The one who shattered the Bone-Sealing Mountain Gate?"
"I heard he has a Heaven-grade Martial Vein!"
Excitement rippled through the spectators.
Ian, who was beside Bareagle, felt he was about to vomit. ’What the hell!? Is the Universe Twelve a Cultivation Universe!?’
Yin Tu stood across from Damon, chin slightly raised.
"Another mute?" he sneered. "Do you people from Universe One know how to speak, or is silence your only weapon?"
Damon looked at him and yawned.
Yin Tu narrowed his eyes. "You dare disrespect me?"
Damon’s gaze was flat. "You’re still talking."
From the stands, Ian leaned forward, arms crossed.
Barseagle chuckled. "Another dog barking before it bites."
The Grand Elder stroked his beard. "This one’s cleverer than the last. He’ll probe Damon’s style first."
Kaelra spoke quietly. "Then he’ll fail faster."
Back on the stage, Yin Tu raised his hand.
A long spear of golden light condensed, humming with spiritual energy. A faint dragon’s cry echoed from the blade.
"My spear technique pierces cores. If I strike your dantian, you’ll never cultivate again."
Damon chuckled. "I do not have dantian. Our power system is different from yours, you idiot. I am a Hunter, not a stupid cultivator like you."
He took a stance, energy coiling around him like a serpent ready to strike.
"I’ll give you one chance. Kneel, and I’ll only cripple your arm."
"No?" Yin Tu grinned, then lifted his spear...
But before the Grand Devil could even announce the start...
A pressure dropped over the stage like a mountain. The air distorted. The stone beneath Damon’s feet cracked. A deep rumble echoed.
Yin Tu froze mid-step.
"What... is this pressure...?"
Damon hadn’t moved. He simply stared forward.
But the Dark Ki swirling around him, pure, dense, and unshakable, wrapped around his body like armor forged from thunderclouds.
Even distant warriors from Universe Six and Universe Ten narrowed their eyes.
"...That boy from Universe One," someone muttered. "His Ki... It’s not normal."
"He hasn’t drawn a weapon. Hasn’t entered a stance. He’s still holding back."
"No way, he’s hiding his power level?"
In the crowd, a white-haired elder squinted. "This feeling... It’s not just his energy. His soul... It’s like a blade drawn halfway."
The Grand Devil smiled faintly, watching the tension rise like waves before a storm.
"Interesting," she whispered. "Very interesting."
Back on the stage, Yin Tu gripped his spear tighter, suddenly uncertain. He laughed again, but it was weaker this time.
"I’ll say it once more," he said, more to calm himself than to threaten. "Kneel."
Damon finally took his hands out of his pockets.
He cracked his neck once. Then, he smiled.
The kind of smile that said, "It’s already over."
But still, he didn’t attack.
The Grand Devil’s voice rang out:
"Match Two... begins now."
Tension stretched like a taut string ready to snap.
And the entire universe was watching. Nah, the eighteen universes were all watching.