When I returned to my seat, the third match had already concluded. From what little I gathered, it had been a rather uneventful bout between two fortunate Gimmel-rank divine warriors who had barely secured their spots among the top eight of their respective groups.
Now, however, the next match was the one the crowd had been waiting for—myself included. After all, it was a clash between Tuilë and Michelle. The two of them had never faced each other in an actual battle before, so it would be interesting to see who held the upper hand.
Personally speaking, Michelle had the advantage in direct combat. She excelled at both close-quarters and long-range engagements, making her highly adaptable to changing battlefield conditions. On the other hand, while Tuilë couldn’t match her head-on, she was far from weak. As she had once explained, she was surprisingly dexterous and capable of delivering powerful blows thanks to her racial advantage, and her hand cannon made her a formidable long-range combatant. Most importantly, however, there were her mechanical golems.
This wouldn’t be a simple one-on-one. It would be one against many.
Before the murmurs in the stands could fully settle, the commentator’s voice boomed across the Grand Colosseum.
“Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for our next elimination match!” he announced with clear excitement. “On one side, we have Michelle—renowned for her overwhelming versatility and mastery of battlefield control!”
Cheers erupted as Michelle stepped through her entrance, looking calm and composed. Her gaze swept across the arena floor, already assessing the terrain.
“And on the other,” the commentator continued, drawing out the moment, “Fantasia’s prodigious engineer—the one and only Tuilë!”
The response was no less enthusiastic as Tuilë emerged from the opposite gate. Her hand cannon rested casually on her shoulder while she waved at the crowd with her free hand, grinning confidently. Everyone present had already witnessed what the two of them were capable of during the free-for-all stage, and even before that, they were well-known figures as members of my party.
Soon, the arena barrier rose. Across the battlefield, Michelle and Tuilë locked eyes—and both broke into faint smiles. There was no hostility between them, only anticipation. Clearly, they each wanted to know who truly stood ahead at this point.
Michelle gripped the Veilpiercer Longbow lightly. “Don’t hold back in this match, Tuilë. I want to see how much I’ve grown.”
Tuilë’s grin widened, seemingly knowing what Michelle was thinking. “Of course I won’t! This is the perfect chance to test my upgraded golems.”
At that moment, the commentator’s voice rang out, charged with excitement. “What a rare sight! This is a battle between two friends!” He paused deliberately and then announced, “Begin!”
As soon as the signal dropped, Michelle made her move. She slid sideways, drawing an arrow mid-step and releasing it in one fluid motion. The projectile sliced through the air before splitting into two—then four—mid-flight. This was a skill she had used during battles like the siege of Graythorn in the tenth scenario. Furthermore, they appeared to be explosive arrows rather than normal arrows. The four arrows curved through the air, converging toward Tuilë from opposing angles.
Tuilë reacted instantly. “Deploy!”
With a sharp mechanical whir, two compact turret modules unfolded from her inventory and locked themselves into the dirt ground. Their barrels rotated with precise calibration, firing concentrated mana bolts that intercepted the incoming arrows.
Boom! Boom!
Explosions blossomed midair, smoke rolling across the battlefield.
Michelle’s lips curved upward. Without missing a beat, vines erupted from the arena floor, twisting and coiling toward Tuilë in layered waves—just as she had once restrained hordes of monsters without breaking her rhythm.
But Tuilë was no stationary target.
“Bernardo, assist!”
With a thunderous crash, the steampunk golem materialized between them. Piston-driven gauntlets slammed into the ground, shattering the dirt floor and crushing the encroaching vines before they could entangle Tuilë.
Curious, I used Inspect Eye on Bernardo.
[Steampunk Golem, Bernardo – Lv.170]
A heavy-duty combat automaton powered by compressed mana and steam-driven actuators created by a genius Magic Gear Master. Built from meteorite alloy and reinforced gear plating, it specializes in blunt-force destruction and line-breaking assaults. Now integrated with an Adaptive Construct Core, its durability, processing speed, and structural responsiveness have been significantly enhanced through self-adjusting mechanical adaptation.
Level 170! That’s almost at the same level as the Medusa replica. Of course, it was just a mechanical golem and not a boss monster, so its overall combat capability wouldn’t reach the same heights. Even so, it was far from something that could be taken lightly.
Regardless, they both had visibly gotten much stronger compared to when the tenth scenario happened, and I was quite pleased by that.
The battle that followed was anything but straightforward. Bernardo advanced first, gliding briefly as propulsion units beneath its feet activated—an upgrade Tuilë had clearly installed. Steam vented from its reinforced joints as it closed the distance. Tuilë remained mobile behind it, her turrets repositioning with mechanical precision and forcing Michelle to constantly adjust her footing.
Meanwhile, Michelle responded by reshaping the battlefield itself. Arrows rained down in rapid succession, green-tinted shafts detonating upon impact and releasing concentrated bursts of nature-aligned mana into the ground. Wherever they struck, thorny vines erupted instantly, spreading voraciously like a living organism. Rather than attempting to overpower Bernardo head-on, Michelle focused on isolating it.
The golem smashed through the first wave with ease—but then the second followed. Soon, a third wave came in from multiple angles, thicker and denser under Michelle’s sustained output. The vines wrapped around Bernardo’s limbs and torso, tightening with relentless pressure. Steam hissed violently as it struggled to break free, but even with its upgraded core, it had limits.
“Bernardo, break free!” Tuilë commanded.
Unfortunately, Michelle didn’t give it the opportunity. More arrows fell, forcing the vines deeper into the seams of the metal plating. Tuilë had no choice but to fire her magic cannon to assist Bernardo, but in doing so, she exposed a gap in her defense.
Smart. Against an opponent like Tuilë, who relied on mechanical golems to dominate the field, the most effective strategy was to strike at the source directly.
True to my expectations, Michelle lunged forward. She slipped past the remaining mechanical golems with fluid footwork, weaving between their attacks with uncanny precision. Whenever a turret fired, she pivoted just enough to evade, narrowing the distance between herself and Tuilë step by step. When she judged the gap close enough, she loosed an arrow aimed squarely at Tuilë’s hand cannon.
Clang!
The projectile struck the barrel at the exact moment Tuilë was about to fire, jolting the weapon off course and disrupting the mana channel mid-charge.
“Ugh,” Tuilë grunted.
Before Tuilë could recover, Michelle activated Quick Switch. The longbow dissolved into motes of light and was instantly replaced by her dagger. She crossed the final stretch in a blur and pressed the blade lightly against Tuilë’s neck.
“This is my victory,” Michelle said calmly.
“Yeesh, it’s my loss, all right. I concede,” Tuilë admitted, raising both hands as though she had been caught red-handed.
Technically, since Michelle hadn’t actually struck her, the arena’s protective mechanism had not activated, and therefore, the match was still ongoing. Furthermore, if Tuilë wanted, she could have resisted. Knowing her, she likely had several concealed gadgets—grenades or emergency devices—that could have disrupted the situation or at least allowed her to disengage. However, she did not do that. Perhaps because this was a battle between friends, she had decided there was no need to push things that far.
After a brief silence, with the two still frozen in position, the commentator’s voice rang out across the Grand Colosseum.
“The match has been decided!” he declared. “With a decisive close-quarters finish, the winner of this match is Michelle!”
The crowd burst into applause. Still, not everyone was pleased. A handful of disgruntled voices rose from people who placed losing bets on Tuilë, complaining that the match had been rigged.
Michelle withdrew her dagger and stepped back, while Tuilë lowered her hands with a sheepish grin.
“Next time, I won’t lose,” Tuilë said confidently. “There’ll be more Bernardos when we fight again.”
“Mm-hmm. I’ll be waiting for that,” Michelle replied with a faint smile.
The two clasped hands in acknowledgment before walking side by side toward the victor’s gate without a hint of hostility toward each other.
Watching them leave, I leaned back slightly in my seat. Both of them had grown tremendously, and neither showed any signs of slowing down. At this rate, the ceiling of their potential was nowhere in sight. If things continued this way, the two of them had a genuine chance of one day reaching the level of divine heroes.
The next match featured Lucian against a Gimmel-rank divine warrior. There was nothing surprising about the outcome. As a capable Daleth-rank Archmage, Lucian had grown considerably stronger, now able to cast magic beyond the Advanced level, though he didn’t even need to reveal that level of power in this round.
The following matches proceeded much the same way. Whenever a Daleth-rank divine warrior was paired against a Gimmel-rank opponent, the result was almost predetermined. The gap between the two ranks was simply too vast. It would take at least five ordinary peak Gimmel-rank divine warriors working in perfect coordination to stand a chance against a newly advanced Daleth-rank one.
There were still a few matches worth noting. Saria, another high-ranking member of the Crimson Crest, made a clean and efficient showing. She appeared to specialize in assassination. Then there was one of Kaela’s kin—now a Daleth-rank divine warrior—who dispatched his opponent with minimal effort. Ronan, the leader of the Crimson Crest himself, soon took the stage as well and dominated his match.
In the ninth match, the leader of Black Crest, Karina, made her appearance. She stepped into the arena with her large war axe resting on her shoulder and her auburn hair tied back loosely. She carried herself with a fiery intensity befitting her reputation. Much like Ronan, she defeated her opponent decisively, barely breaking a sweat.
What truly caught my attention, however, was the next match. It was between another of Kaela’s kin—Mirel Ash, the smallest and youngest of the four—and Marcel, the leader of New Hope.
Even from a distance, I could see that suspiciously friendly smile resting on Marcel’s lips as he stepped forward to face her. Marcel wielded a spear and shield, maintaining a balanced, disciplined stance. Mirel, on the other hand, crouched low with steel claws extending from her gauntlets, with a posture that looked like a predator.
Something about this matchup felt… off.
As the battle began, the two appeared evenly matched. Both were Daleth-rank divine warriors, and neither gave ground easily. Mirel moved like a beast, steel claws flashing as she darted in and out of Marcel’s reach. Marcel, on the other hand, maintained a steady stance behind his shield, spear probing forward in controlled thrusts.
But then, Marcel’s posture slackened and his guard dipped, leaving what looked like a clear opening at his flank. Mirel, seizing the moment, lunged without hesitation. But the instant she committed, Marcel’s expression changed. The relaxed posture vanished, and he pivoted sharply, moving far faster than before, and his spear swept in a sweeping arc. The blade carved across Mirel’s chest, tearing through armor and flesh alike, leaving a wide, bloody gash.
It had all been a trap. How vicious.
“Aargh!” Mirel shrieked in pain as she fell to the ground.
In an instant, the arena’s protective mechanism activated, halting further damage and quickly healing her injury.
“The match is decided!” the commentator announced. “The winner is Marcel of New Hope!”