Chapter 58: Colosseum

This was a vast, viscous lake of digestive fluid, constantly bubbling; occasional giant, villus-like tentacles emerged from the surface, snatching anything edible. The lakeshore was a living carpet of flesh, and stepping on it oozed corrosive pus.

The air was thick with acrid mist, obstructing vision and continuously eroding armor and magical barriers. Towering, pulsating columns of biological tissue rose around them, like load-bearing walls of this living hell.

The “Black Dragon’s Wing” squad had encountered a dire predicament here. Leaning against a massive biological tissue column, they formed a fractured defensive circle. The battle had lasted nearly ten minutes—already their limit against an opponent of superior rank.

Captain Tug held the great shield “Oath of the Mountain,” its engraved dragon motif now dull and lifeless. He breathed heavily, each block sending splashes of green hellfire flying. Lieutenant Sara bled from the corner of her mouth, yet her gaze remained sharp as she manipulated unstable elemental energy with both hands.

Assassins Gor and Duan moved in tandem, their twin blades a blur of afterimages, but their bodies bore multiple charred burns from hellfire. High Priestess Mos knelt, palms pressed to the ground, attempting to forcibly draw energy from the living earth—yet it was excruciatingly difficult.

They had no names, only codenames; the flesh puppets replacing them would inherit the same designation. Of course, they felt no emotion—mere killing machines executing orders.

The devil Barot raised his hand gracefully and unleashed “Decree: Pain.” An invisible force instantly throttled the guardian Mos. Captain Bag roared, slamming his great shield into the ground and activating Dragon Roar Barrier—a semi-transparent, scale-patterned sonic shield erupted instantly, forcibly nullifying the decree. “Mos!”

Seizing the opportunity, Priestess Mos completed his spell: “Fevered Blood Seed.” A thin red line shot into a patch of living flesh beneath the devil. The flesh instantly surged, boiled, and sprouted countless tentacles, wrapping around the devil’s legs in an attempt to immobilize him.

The Shadow Blade brothers struck like lightning from both sides, launching “Shadow Dragon Ambush.” In moments, each split into three, creating six indistinguishable afterimages, blades aimed straight at the devil’s joints and wing roots.

Barot sneered, unleashing “Hell Halo: Repulsion.” A green energy ring, laced with agonized wails, exploded outward. All of Gor and Duan’s illusions shattered on contact; their true forms were violently flung backward, crashing into the flesh columns behind them.

Priestess Mos, enduring backlash, unleashed a golden-yellow glow from his palms, activating “Earth Vein Shackles.” Several chains of pure earth element erupted from the relatively solid ground, coiling around the devil’s limbs.

For the first time, the devil showed a hint of seriousness. Temporarily bound by the fevered tentacles and earth chains, he muttered, “Interesting insects.” His burning claws clapped together, coalescing a massive spear of negative energy—the “Spear of Despair”—and hurled it straight at Sara, who was channeling her spell.

Captain Bag did not hesitate—he activated “Dragon Wing Guard.” Vast spectral dragon wings unfurled behind him as he charged forward, shield-first, into the spear’s path.

“BOOM!!”

The spear exploded. Bag’s great shield shattered into fragments. He spat blood and recoiled, his breastplate fully melted, grievously wounded. But he had bought Sara critical time.

Flame Weaver Sara’s eyes streamed blood as she completed her strongest spell: “Dragon Soul Solar Flame.” She fused part of her life force with her magic, summoning above her head a small, blazing white sun threaded with dragon silhouettes, radiating a purifying aura as it plummeted toward the devil.

Barot, facing the solar flame, finally resorted to his true power. No longer elegant, he roared and activated “Abyssal Pact: Damage Transfer.” A complex magical array flashed beneath his feet; most of the solar flame’s damage was redirected into the very fabric of this “Cancerous Abyss” plane.

A violent explosion rocked the area. The devil was shoved back several steps, cracks appearing on his carapace, smoke rising from them. But he had successfully used the environment to distribute the lethal blow across the entire living plane.

Meanwhile, his steel tail stabbed forward like teleportation, unleashing “Soul Piercing,” targeting the wounded Bag. Priestess Mos threw his body in front of the strike. The tail pierced his chest, destroying his flesh and beginning to tear apart his soul. In excruciating agony, Mos’s body rapidly turned gray and crumbled.

The devil granted them no further chance. He appeared instantly before Sara, now grounded and drained of magic, and ripped out her heart with his claws, whispering into her ear: “Your flame shall return to nothing.”

The surviving Shadow Blade brothers screamed in grief and launched a suicide attack. The devil merely swept his claws left and right. “Blasphemous Flame” erupted as two intersecting crescent shockwaves, severing and igniting Gor and Duan along with their weapons.

Finally, he approached Captain Bag, who clung to a single breath. “Your struggle amused me.”

At that moment, Bag suddenly spoke: “Devil, your performance was quite impressive. You’ve given me quite the surprise. Tell me, how should I reward you, Baron Barot?”

“You… you’re Sakavi? Impossible. How could you be here?”

“Correct. Your reward: the ‘Domain of Silent Corridor.’ Within this designated area, only one person may walk out alive. How fair is that? Did you truly think I didn’t notice the flaw in your ‘Abyssal Throat’?”

“Hehehe, I must admit, your intellect surpasses my expectations. A clever black dragon like you is rare. How about joining me to reap greater profits in the Luo Sen Empire? Fighting here risks alerting the ‘Corruptor Lord’—that benefits neither of us, does it?”

“You’re right—but this place is an exception. Within this duel domain, fate has been rerouted. No one can breach its barriers to enter or exit, or even perceive its existence. I spent three years developing this location.”

As the “Necrotic Domain” activated, a massive, ring-shaped barrier of translucent spectral matter enveloped the black dragon and the devil. From the dragon’s center, absolute silence spread like a tide, instantly swallowing all sound.

The writhing flesh carpets, pulsing veins, and bubbling acid of the Cancerous Abyss lost their vivid, sickly hues, fading into monotonous gray, white, and black. The air no longer reeked of decay, but carried a cold, dusty scent from the deepest recesses of an ancient tomb.

Devil Barot felt his surging hellfire and life force suppressed as never before—as if the entire domain rejected him as a “living” being. Without hesitation, he launched an attack: Blasphemous Flame rained down like firestorms.

As “Life Siphon” activated, a miniature black vortex formed in the black dragon’s palm. The falling hellfire rain, upon nearing him, had its energy and life force forcibly stripped and absorbed, flowing as a dark crimson trickle into the vortex, replenishing him. The flames extinguished before even touching him.

Almost simultaneously, the black dragon emitted a non-human, soul-directing shriek—not a sonic attack, but a resonance of death. Barot felt his soul pierced by countless icy needles; the agony froze his movements, nearly unraveling his gathered power. His very soul structure was directly shaken.

“You dare judge me? The Abyss is your execution ground, black dragon!” Barot’s roar, amplified by hellfire, momentarily shattered the domain’s silence.

“Behold the ‘Nine Hells Pact: Pain Transfer’! This is true power!” A complex pact rune glowed on his chest. The soul-wrenching wails and loss of life force were partially redirected through a corrupt pact law onto the Cancerous Abyss itself.

Simultaneously, he slammed his claws into the ground—hellfire erupted violently! The gray-white ground within the domain split open, and searing green fire columns burst skyward—not targeting the black dragon directly, but furiously burning and destroying the domain’s own death energy, attempting to dismantle it from within.

The black dragon intensified pressure. Beneath his feet, a complex array unfolded, engulfing the devil: a field accelerating decay. Barot watched in horror as his indestructible demonic carapace lost its luster, grew brittle, and cracked like ancient, weathered rust. His strength, his reflexes—all were aging, slowing.

Barot pushed through the “Eternal Withering,” his form swelling as his burning claws coalesced power capable of defiling divinity—he lunged straight for the black dragon’s body. This was a violation of cosmic rules, attempting to temporarily strip “death” from the dragon. Where he passed, even the domain’s death laws briefly exhibited “rejection.”

Yet the black dragon gave him no further chance. He extended one finger, pointing at the devil. No light shone from the tip—only the concept of “death” itself.

This was no energy attack. It was a law-level judgment. An invisible, absolute “death” command pierced through all physical and energetic defenses, striking directly at Barot’s core existence.

The devil’s desperate strike halted. His motion froze. The hellfire in his eyes dimmed and vanished as if snuffed by a freezing wind. He felt no pain—only an absolute, irresistible “end” descending. His life, his power, his consciousness—all were forcibly terminated by that single finger.

Barot knew conventional means could not prevail. He began burning his hellish essence.

“Seven Sins Halo!” With a roar, seven rings of primal sins—Pride, Envy, Wrath—erupted from him, no longer mere spiritual influences but tangible law-shocks, violently striking the Necrotic Domain’s boundary. The entire arena trembled; spiderweb-like cracks appeared along the edges of the gray-white world.

He tore open a tiny rift connecting to a layer of the Bottomless Abyss—not to flee (arena rules forbade it), but to flood the domain with chaotic energy utterly alien to death, like pouring sand into a precision instrument, triggering violent rule conflicts to create chaos and seek a sliver of survival.

“Impressive struggle.”

The black dragon’s low voice sounded like the final verdict of death.

“But it ends here!”

This time, it was no gentle “Life Siphon.” Barot felt his soul core seized by an invisible, freezing hand of immense force! His burning essence, his surging hellfire, all his power and consciousness were forcibly crushed and drained away.

His Seven Sins Halo extinguished like a cut power line. The rift he tore open was forcibly sealed by the domain’s superior death laws. His roar choked in his throat; his body visibly withered and turned gray. All his counterattacks, all his schemes, crumbled into insignificance before this direct, brutal soul-crushing pressure.

“Annihilation!”

With the black dragon’s final word, Barot’s soul core burst like a punctured balloon; his last flicker of consciousness vanished entirely. Where the devil had stood, only a hollow, dull, cracked carapace remained. A breeze blew—and it turned to cold, meaningless dust.