I had already noticed that some of Kaela’s kin had appeared throughout Groups A to C, so I shouldn’t have been that surprised to see her participating. After all, whenever there was an interesting battle to be found, she was always there. She truly embodied the definition of a battle maniac.
Group D didn’t waste any time once the signal was given. The moment the horn sounded, the arena erupted once more, but the tempo was noticeably different from the earlier rounds. The contestants here were more cautious, having watched the previous groups fight. Several immediately created distance, while others clustered into loose formations, eyes constantly shifting as they gauged threats.
Kaela did none of that.
She stepped forward with an eager grin, flexing her claws before her. Before anyone could react, she lunged with immense power, causing the ground to shatter beneath her feet. A Gimmel-rank divine warrior barely had time to raise his weapon before Kaela crashed into him like a living projectile. Her claws ripped straight through his guard in a single motion, and the arena’s protective light flared almost instantly as his body was hurled across the field.
Another contestant rushed in from the side, hoping to catch her while she was mid-motion. Bad idea. Kaela twisted sharply, her tail snapping out like a whip as she ducked beneath a wild swing and drove her fist straight into her opponent’s gut. The impact landed with a sickening crack—bones breaking audibly—as the man was sent flying into the arena wall, disqualified the moment he struck it.
Manic laughter burst from Kaela’s lips as she rolled her shoulders. “That’s it? You’re gonna have to do better than that!”
The surrounding contestants recoiled. Some instinctively kept their distance, while others retreated outright, unwilling to be the next to test her head-on.
Watching from the stands, I shook my head and let out a quiet sigh. She clearly hadn’t changed at all. If anything, she’d grown even more dangerous. In a free-for-all like this, someone like Kaela—who thrived in chaos and relished direct combat—was a nightmare incarnate. It wouldn’t take long before she forced her way into the top eight.
The only real question was how many she’d take down along the way.
True to my hunch, Kaela rampaged through the arena, attacking contestants indiscriminately. None of those she targeted survived even a single exchange—except, perhaps, the other two Daleth-rank divine warriors, who wisely kept their distance from her. Speaking of which, I spotted Lucian amid the chaos. He was smart enough not to provoke her.
The chaos on the arena floor gradually died down as the last few contestants were eliminated, leaving only eight figures standing amid the shattered stone. By the time this happened, Kaela alone had already defeated more than three-quarters of the group.
I was certain she would become an invaluable asset in the upcoming Battle of Divine Will. If she charged straight into the enemy’s ranks, she could disrupt their formation and potentially kill more than a hundred divine warriors before retreating—and that was without even using her transformation skill. She was perhaps the closest thing to a one-woman army Istellia had at her disposal, with Boris coming in a close second.
Immediately, the commentator’s voice boomed across the Grand Colosseum, thick with awe. “Incredible! Absolutely incredible! Group D has concluded, and what a display it was! One contestant alone has defeated more than half of her group! A feat never before seen in the history of this tournament!”
Cheers erupted from the stands, mixed with nervous laughter and stunned murmurs. More than a few spectators had risen to their feet, eyes fixed on the silver-furred wolf therianthrope still standing at the center of the ruined arena, her chest rising and falling as her grin slowly faded into a satisfied smirk.
“The top eight have been decided!” the commentator continued. “Group D contestants, clear the arena! The next stage will begin after a short intermission!”
Golden light flared beneath the remaining participants as attendants and healers moved in to collect the disqualified. As Kaela was escorted off, a worrying thought crossed my mind: Was she aiming to become the commander of Istellia’s divine warrior army?
She held a deep prejudice against humans. While it wasn’t as extreme as the views shared by her four comrades, she was far from an ideal candidate. Kaela made exceptions for those she recognized as her equals—but most divine warriors wouldn’t survive a single exchange with her, let alone earn her respect.
More importantly… would Boris be able to defeat her when the time came for them to clash?
“This is not good,” I murmured.
I needed to confront Kaela before she was matched against Boris and ask her about her true intention for joining the tournament.
Just then, a massive holographic screen materialized high above the arena, suspended in the air at its center. Lines of light rippled across its surface as names began to appear, arranging themselves into a structured bracket. There were thirty-two names in total, corresponding to the eight winners of each group of the first stage.
The first-round matchups locked in one by one, each pairing revealed in sequence. I scanned the screen quickly, skimming past familiar names until I saw Kaela’s name. To my surprise, she was positioned directly opposite mine in the second round. In other words, if we both won our opening matches, we would be facing each other next.
Feeling relieved, my gaze turned to the other half of the bracket, searching for Boris. A moment later, I found him positioned on the far side, well away from Kaela’s path. Good. If things went as expected, I would clash with Kaela in the second round, long before she ever crossed paths with Boris. That gave me exactly what I needed: time and a controlled setting to confront her without risking a disastrous matchup. If push came to shove, I could come up with a way to get her eliminated—or even have the entire tournament called off—but that would be a last resort.
As I took all of that in, I soon noticed that Michelle and Tuilë had been matched against each other in the first round. It was unavoidable that we would face one another sooner or later, and given our numbers, there was always a chance it would happen as early as the opening match.
With the bracket firmly set, I rose from my seat and moved away from the stands as the crowd erupted into renewed excitement. Near the inner concourse, the betting area was already in full swing, with clerks shouting updated odds while divine warriors rushed to place their wagers based on the newly revealed matchups.
Before approaching one of the counters, I found a secluded corner and removed the Mask of a Thousand Races. Once that was done, I stepped forward and stopped in front of one of the vacant counters. The betting area was managed directly by the Grand Colosseum itself, and every counter operated under the same system.
“My name is Maximillian, and I’d like to place a bet,” I said calmly.
The clerk was a gruff man with a scarred face and an eyepatch, his attire looking more like that of a dressed-up thug than a proper bookmaker. He eyed me up and down before grunting, “Who’s your wager?”
Without even glancing at the holographic screen, I replied, “Black Phantom,” and placed a pouch containing ten thousand soul coins on the counter.
The clerk’s single visible eye widened. He reached for the pouch, weighed it in his hand, then opened it just enough to glimpse the contents. A sharp whistle escaped his lips. “Ten thousand?” He looked back at me, brows knitting together. “You serious?”
“Absolutely.”
He frowned at me. “You know Black Phantom’s an unknown, right? No faction, no backing, and the only public fight to his name is this tournament. He’s a real dark horse.”
“I’m aware.”
The clerk snorted. “Most folks are betting against him. Odds are good, sure—but that also means everyone thinks he’s gonna drop early. One bad matchup and poof, your soul coins are gone.”
I glanced up at the holographic screen and saw that Black Phantom’s odds were listed at 1:3.5—meaning I would receive three and a half times my wager if I won. The opponent I was facing wasn’t exactly a top figure, but he was pretty well known. It was Voltz, one of Ronan’s right-hand men, and a confirmed Daleth-rank divine warrior.
He slid the pouch back toward me, though he didn’t let go of it just yet. “Last chance to reconsider. Plenty of safer picks on the board. Big names like Boris the Unstoppable or Kaela the Mad Beast. They are proven monsters.”
I met his gaze evenly. “I don’t make bets I’m not confident in.”
To begin with, I wouldn’t place a bet unless I was certain of winning. Even if what I could display was limited by my identity as the Black Phantom, that didn’t mean I couldn’t defeat a newly advanced Daleth-rank divine warrior like Voltz. Kaela, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter since her true intentions were still unknown to me.
“Heh. Fine by me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” A crooked grin tugged at his lips.
I could have wagered all of my soul coins, but anything more than this would have drawn unnecessary attention. Not to mention that there seemed to be a limit on how much I could wager on a single match, which was most likely being twenty thousand. And pushing the bet to that much would skew the odds too heavily and result in diminishing returns, so I didn’t bother.
“Bet accepted,” he said, sliding the pouch of soul coins behind the counter. “Good luck to you, lad. Here’s your betting voucher.”
I took the thin crystal slip he handed over and tucked it away, then returned to the same secluded spot to put the Mask of a Thousand Races back on. My appearance returned to that of Black Phantom’s, and I turned and merged into the flow of spectators heading back toward the stands. Naturally, I went to the bathroom first and grabbed some food too, which cost me twenty soul coins, to fill my stomach.
By the time I returned to my seat, the half-hour break was already drawing to a close. The holographic screen above the arena flickered to life again, rearranging itself to display the first matchup of the bracket stage.
At the same time, the commentator’s voice rang out across the Grand Colosseum. “Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you all enjoyed the short intermission! As you can see, the arena has been fully restored and reinforced, ready to withstand the clashes to come. From this point onward, there will only be one-on-one battles!”
A brief pause followed, as if he were deliberately letting the tension settle.
“Now then, let us begin the elimination rounds!” the commentator declared. “Our opening match will be between Kaela—the Mad Beast of the Silver Fang—and a Gimmel-rank divine warrior who fought his way here through sheer tenacity… Rethan Vale!”
Hearing that, I almost felt sorry for the guy. By this point, anyone who had made it to the bracket stage was no longer weak. They were either Daleth-rank divine warriors or peak Gimmel-rank fighters—those clever and resourceful enough to survive the chaos of the free-for-all and claim a spot among the top eight of their respective groups. Even so, the gap between them and Kaela was… cruel.
The highlighted names soon flashed on the screen as the two contestants stepped forward from opposite entrances. Rethan was a lean man with brown hair, a spear clenched tightly in his grip. His expression was tense, fully aware of the odds stacked against him—yet he stepped onto the arena floor all the same.
Kaela, on the other hand, looked downright delighted. Her tail swayed lazily behind her as she cracked her neck, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
When the signal was given, the fight ended almost immediately.
Kaela closed the distance in an instant. With a single punch, Rethan’s body folded unnaturally as he was sent flying across the arena. The arena’s protective mechanism activated, yanking the battered divine warrior away before he could hit the ground.
This wolf therianthrope was simply too merciless.