Perfect Avatar-Chapter 239: Soul

(Coliseum)

The arena erupted with another level of intensity, much higher, more intense than it had ever been. The red ground was darker than usual, despite the enormous illumination of the sun, the blood of the fallen gladiators was a wine carpet for the two finalists of the Wrath tournament.

A figure emerged from a corridor, holding a large scythe in her hands, and the audience greeted her with an explosion of cheers.

Another figure emerged from the opposite corridor, leaving the spiky ball of dellusion rolling across the earth, and the rest of the arena raising the level of screams to the heavens.

Slowly, they both made their way to the center of the arena, body parts of their victims scattered across the floor. Step by step, without stopping looking into each other’s eyes, Dora and Mercy closed the distance between them and finally, at the height of the sun in the sky, they reached the center of the arena.

The Munerator, standing for the first time in the stands, made the audience cheer louder, there was no better time to be alive, nothing else was more important than this. This was the high point in the history of this dead town.

"This is the final battle of the Mad Tournament. Fifty gladiators reached the sky that day, and only two stand here today. For the greatest finale, the very last battle, the Nameless One, the Red Devil , one of them will die today, and the last survivors will receive a piece of the Fool’s soul!"

The audience erupted once again, a smile playing on Dora’s lips, a frown in Mercy’s eyes.

The Munerator raised his arm one last time, looking at Shaka.

"May the gods receive your souls. For honor! The battle begins!!!"

A shock wave passed through the arena, taking the form of hundreds of mixed screams.

***

(Frozen Earth)

Rhea held a soul stone containing what was probably the greatest treasure in the world, a part of the soul of the most powerful sin.

The General held out her hand to Freya, leaving the young woman in shock.

"A part of... A part of your soul?"

Her eyes turned to the General, Rhea regained her usual placid expression, in contrast to Freya who was slowly falling apart.

"You want... You want to turn me into... into..."

"As a pseudo-avatar with my blessing, and I will help you with the Twilight of the Gods. A warrior does not stutter, young lady."

Freya struggled not to tremble, of all times, this was definitely the time she needed the advice of her comrades, one look would be enough, as for them, the small size of the pupils and their open jaw was enough of an answer.

Freya’s hand reached out for the stone, but Rhea quickly closed hers and retracted.

"One thing at a time, Freya. I think now we’re ready for a long, good talk."

Freya’s eyes continued to follow the fist holding the stone. Her heart was beating at a tremendous speed, her eyes were almost blind. She tried to take a deep breath and almost passed out.

She blinked several times and saw the scene like a flashback. It wasn’t a dream and the Wolf of the North never lies.

Head bowed, she let her strength leave her, but a firm grip on her shoulder kept her from passing out. She looked behind her and put on Eryl’s gaze, the maid giving her a nod.

She turned to Rhea, and finally managed to form a sentence.

"...Very well...I...we will accept your offer. I want to believe in your reputation...that you never lie...so I will tell you everything."

The cold wind was blowing there, and elsewhere, the same phenomenon was occurring. In the arena, the crowd’s cheers turned into yell of anger and frustration.

In the center, Dora and Mercy did not move, still looking at each other since the start of the battle.

The munerator finished speaking again, but both remained where they were. The tension began to rise, Iris, Morgiana and Lilith, the last hidden under a veil, kept their eyes fixed on the red sovereign.

The red mist was already spreading, but its intensity now fueled the anger of a burning crowd.

"Fight already!!!"

"Get to work!!!"

The insults began to rain down, then the screams, and finally the chants of death, not against one but against both combatants. Mercy kept her eyes fixed on Dora, barely breathing, the boy in front doing the same.

"Kuh..."

Above the deafening noise of the crowd, a thunderous growl reverberated, causing the three young women in the stands to gulp nervously.

Wrath, seated on his imposing throne, started to tremble, but then, an unexpected turn of events unfolded. Dora relinquished his morning star and extended his arms, his eyes filled tenses, while Mercy leaned forward.

The voices of the audience gradually subsided, indicating that the duo had finally made up their minds to take action. Dora’s eyes emitted an eerie green glow as he parted his lips to utter a single word.

"Now."

Mercy’s feet left the ground, and within an instant, she materialized on the opposite side, farther behind Dora.

"ARGH!"

Dora screamed and, in a fascinating scene, the boy’s body split in two. The voices in the audience rose for a mere moment, but when the upper body fell to the ground, everyone lost the ability to speak.

Mercy spun her sword and returned to her usual winning pose, looking up at the sky, behind her Dora’s organs were making their debut.

For 1, 5, 6 seconds, no sound could be heard for a long time, as if they were all waiting for the boy to get up, but this was a country unaware of healing abilities.

"...What is this?"

"...Hey, why isn’t he moving?"

"It’s a joke, right?"

The murmurs began to rise, then the voices grew louder, and finally an explosion of frustration. There it was, the result of their long history, the best finale they could have hoped for: a frustrating start, followed by a light-speed, unopposed battle.

The audience erupted in insults towards Mercy, or perhaps Dora’s body? It wasn’t really necessary as their words were becoming difficult to understand and directed at anyone, but that didn’t matter, the tournament was over.

Mercy looked up at Wrath, the man in his chair had completely stopped moving, even his eyes were no longer visible.

The munerator glanced at him and, with great concern in his eyes, stood up.

"It’s... It’s the end of the tournament! The winner is... the Red Devil..."

A sudden uproar engulfed the audience, drowning out individual voices and causing many to overlook a subtle change. Mercy’s eyes widened as she took a defensive stance, the munirator quivering in fear. Gradually, the spectators fell into silence, confronted by a chilling turn of events.

"...Well done...Red Devil."

At the sound of metallic applause resounding throughout the arena, everyone held their breath. Step by step, the faceless man descended the steps, heading towards the battlefield.

"You did well... female... So you defeated the Nameless? I feel relieved to see this tournament over..." His right eye shone under the darkness of his helmet. "And deeply... frustrated."

He stopped in the middle of the steps, Mercy remained motionless, confidant, but the tremor of her scythe almost gave her off.

Suddenly, a warm wind rose, the red mist began to thin, leaving the surrounding area, and converging towards one place: Wrath’s hand.

"You won my tournament? Then I will give you a part of my soul."