Chapter 331: CRITICAL HIT

This... this was impossible.

Razeal’s mind rejected what his eyes were showing him. He had really poured everything into that strike every shred of physical strength his body could muster, every ounce of pressure his muscles could generate. He knew Knox was strong; he had seen the stats, felt the pressure, understood the gap. But still... this?

Not even a scratch.

His jaw tightened as disbelief twisted into something heavier, uglier. He pushed down harder, forcing the black, star-forged blade against Knox’s shoulder with all his weight, as if sheer will alone could bend reality. The sword didn’t budge. Not even an inch. It was like pressing steel against an unyielding mountain no matter how much force he applied, the resistance remained absolute.

"How..." Razeal muttered under his breath, teeth grinding together.

The force he had just unleashed was monstrous. If this weren’t a weapon forged from star, it would have shattered on impact crumbled into useless fragments from the backlash alone. And yet, even with such a blade in his hands, Knox stood there unmoved, unmarked, arms still crossed, posture relaxed... as if Razeal’s strike had been nothing more than a child’s tantrum.

That realization hurt more than the failed attack.

Just how hard was this bastard’s body?

Razeal’s eyes flickered, shock and disbelief crashing into one another. His grip tightened until his fingers ached. The thought gnawed at him relentlessly this wasn’t normal. Even beings far stronger than him should have reacted, even if only slightly. A tremor. A shift or anything.. Just Something atleast.

But Knox hadn’t even acknowledged the strike.

[Dont be surprised, Host.]

The system’s tone was steady, unbothered, as if this outcome had been obvious from the start.

[The difference between a Saint and a Sovereign is beyond your current comprehension. This is not a simple numerical gap.]

[Furthermore, Knox’s physical resistance has already reached Emperor-grade thresholds. Due to deficiencies in other aspects, he remains classified as a Sovereign. Otherwise, with that level of resistance and raw strength, he would already stand among Emperor-rank powerhouses.]

[In pure physical combat, even most Sovereigns would lose to him. Normal attacks regardless of refinement are insufficient.]

Razeal exhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

"Yeah... I get it," he muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. "But I still don’t accept that I can’t even scratch him."

Defiance flared.

He pulled the sword back in a sharp motion, muscles coiling, before lunging forward again. This time, there was no hesitation, no restraint only raw, relentless aggression. His body moved on instinct, sword flashing as he unleashed a full barrage of strikes. Left. Right. Diagonal. Overhead. He targeted joints, softer areas, angles that should have offered at least some vulnerability.

Each strike landed with devastating force.

BOOOOOOOM

BOOOOOOOM

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM

Explosions thundered through the arena, shockwaves rippling violently through the water. Every impact sent massive surges outward, the enclosed space amplifying the destruction. If not for the invisible protective shields layered around the arena, the colosseum itself would have been reduced to rubble.. walls collapsing, stands shattering, spectators swallowed by the aftermath.

The water churned into chaos, currents spiraling wildly as debris and pressure waves collided again and again.

And still

Nothing.

Knox didn’t move.

Not when the blade slammed into his side.

Not when it struck his back.

Not when Razeal aimed lower, higher, anywhere that should have given way.

The sword met resistance every single time absolute, unyielding resistance.

From the stands, the spectators stared in silent horror.

Jaws hung open. Eyes were wide, unblinking. No one spoke. No one could.

Inside the arena, it looked less like a fight and more like a storm crashing endlessly against an immovable cliff.

—

"He’s... a monster," Neptunia whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant echoes.

She stood frozen, eyes locked on the violent scene below as the water rippled and surged with each impact.

"How can someone be that physically strong?" she murmured, disbelief etched into every word. "How are his bones not cracking... even with that kind of force?"

----

Arthur swallowed hard, watching from the edge of the arena, his throat suddenly dry.

"...Good thing I got out of there in time," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

For the first time, genuine relief flickered in his eyes. Thankful he didn’t push it himself.

"If one of those strikes had hit me full on..." His voice trailed off. He didn’t need to finish the thought. Even with his royal Atlantean physique, he knew the truth.

He wouldn’t have walked away.

-----

High above, in the VIP stands, King Julius leaned forward slightly, his usual composed expression fractured by shock.

"He is... incredibly strong for his age," the king said slowly, his voice measured but heavy. "The most talented lad I have seen in a very long time."

This wasn’t flattery. It was an admission.

"I doubt even Arthur could stand against him," Julius continued, eyes fixed on the arena, "even if he went all out and used his relica."

What he was witnessing redefined talent itself. Physical power of this magnitude at such a young age should have been impossible. And yet, there it was, undeniable.

"And to think," he added quietly, "that he’s a human..."

Atlanteans were born with stronger physical constitutions than humans. It was a fundamental truth of the world. And yet this boy stood there, shattering expectations with every strike, overturning long-held assumptions as if they were meaningless.

An exception.

A terrifying one of that.

But then Julius’s brow furrowed.

"That pressure earlier..." he muttered. "That wasn’t divinity."

His senses were sharp refined by age and power. He had felt gods before. This was different.

"Blood," he realized slowly. "An aura of blood?"

The thought lingered, unsettling.

What is he, really? he wondered, eyes never leaving Razeal. But again he just shook his head, pushing the question aside for now. Whatever the truth was, it could wait.

Focusing on the duel below remembering what was important here.

"Alas, he was human."

King Julius let out a quiet breath, the kind that carried weight rather than relief. If Razeal had been Atlantean, there would have been no hesitation. He would have declared him the victor without a second thought proud, even joyful, to see such talent rise from his people. But reality was rarely so kind. The circumstances twisted what should have been a moment of celebration into something far more complicated.

"This... will be a problem," Julius murmured, eyes still fixed on the arena. His voice was low, controlled, but beneath it lay unmistakable strain. "If he were Atlantean, I would have no objections. I would gladly let him win. But now..."

He turned his head slightly, already knowing the conclusion he had reached long before he spoke it aloud. "Now we cannot allow him to win. Not even to advance to the final stage of the competition."

He paused, choosing his words carefully, fully aware of their weight.

"If he were merely strong, it would have been fine," Julius continued. "We could justify second position. We could explain it. But this..." His gaze sharpened. "This level of dominance leaves no room for ambiguity. No participant would willingly duel against hum. And even if one did, the outcome is obvious."

"If I allow him to proceed, he will take first place. There is no doubt about it. And that," his voice hardened, "is something I cannot allow."

"This is not about fairness," Julius said quietly. "It is about Atlantis. About what must and must not happen. You understand this, Lady Merisa?"

He turned to her then, his expression earnest, almost weary. "So please do not misunderstand me. This is not a decision I took lightly nor i have any bad intentions. towards your son so wrong doing him.. But the implications are just too severe. I cannot let a human stand at the peak of this competition."

He hesitated before adding, "I will compensate him. Generously. I will ensure he is rewarded in a way befitting his worth. But I cannot give him the same treatment as the other particiapts. So yes I will not let him pass."

Merisa met his gaze without flinching. Her eyes were searching, but there was no anger in them only understanding..

She sighed softly. "I understand," she said at last. "I don’t agree with it... but I understand."

Her gaze shifted back to the arena, to Razeal. "Just don’t hurt him," she added, her voice firm. "And whatever compensation you give him make sure it’s worthy. Not symbolic. But Worthy.. Whatver makes him happy."

Julius nodded. "You have my word. If this situation were any less... complicated, I would never do something so dishonorable."

His voice lowered. "But circumstances leave me no choice."

Merisa said nothing more. She simply watched, her thoughts tangled, her emotions conflicted. Pride, confusion, guilt all of it coiled together in her chest. Once again, she found herself unable to protect him.. And that realization stung far more than she cared to admit.

----

Down in the arena, Razeal stood still at last.

Frustration clawing its way through him. He stared at his sword, then at his hands, flexing his fingers as if the answer might reveal itself through motion alone.

"Why..." he muttered, disbelief thick in his voice. "Why is nothing working?"

Not even a scratch?

The thought echoed in his head, relentless. He had struck with everything he had. No hesitation. No restraint. Full power. And yet Knox stood before him exactly as before untouched, unbothered, unmoved.

"This is nonsense," Razeal cursed under his breath.

He looked up again, eyes narrowing as they traced the massive frame in front of him. Just how thick was this bastard’s skin? No skin wasn’t even the right word. It felt like striking an entire mountain compressed into a humanoid shape.

And then another thought surfaced, colder than the rest.

Knox hadn’t attacked him. Not even once.

The realization sent a chill down his spine.

From the very beginning, Knox had done nothing but stand there. No counters. No defense. No retaliation. Just silent acceptance allowing Razeal to attack however he pleased, as if indulging a harmless child.

"If he hits me even once..." Razeal swallowed. The sentence didn’t need finishing.

He could already imagine it. One strike. One casual movement. And he would be done.

The fear wasn’t sharp or panicked it was heavy, suffocating. The kind that settled deep in the bones.

This was scary.

Truly, genuinely terrifying.

And yet, beneath that fear, something else stirred.

If Knox was like this... then what about the Empress?

That was really a scary thought to him. If this was the strength of a being standing still and letting him attack freely, then what kind of monster would be whose strongest then him? And beyond him?

What about Riven?

The name alone made his teeth grind together. How absurdly strong was that bastard, if someone like Knox existed beneath him?

Razeal clenched his fists.

He couldn’t even hurt someone who wasn’t fighting back.

Not scratch. Not dent. Not even stagger.

"And I thought..." he laughed bitterly under his breath. "I thought reaching Saint rank made me something special."

Reality had a cruel way of correcting arrogance.

He had believed himself powerful. Almost untouchable. And now, standing here, facing an opponent who didn’t even acknowledge his attacks, he felt smaller than ever.

Nothing again.

That was the word echoing in his mind.

He’s Nothing.. He thought standing there silently..

But just then the he sound of movement finally broke the silence.

Knox shifted his weight slightly and turned his gaze fully toward Razeal for the first time.

"What is it, kid?" Knox asked, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the water. "Did I break your spirit?"

Razeal said nothing.

He simply stood there, sword hanging loosely at his side, eyes shadowed by frustration and something dangerously close to self-doubt.

And for the first time since he got strong, Razeal didn’t feel like he was even fraction of edge close to victory.

He felt like he was staring straight into a wall he couldn’t climb no matter how hard he tried.

Knox watched the boy in silence, the faint smile on his massive face carrying neither mockery nor malice only a weary kind of certainty earned over millennia.

"Hm... well, sorry, kid," he finally said, his voice deep and even, rolling through the arena like distant tides. "You are more than worthy of the next round. Truly. In my long life, I’ve seen countless fighters, prodigies, monsters born with talent and yet, you still stand out."

His gaze settled fully on Razeal now, heavy and direct. "At your age, what you’ve achieved is absurd. Unnatural, even... You should be proud of that and do not be dissapoined like that.. You have long way to go.. If not you are very well right to call yourself prodigy of this era.." He praised. "But alas despite that..." Knox exhaled slowly. "I can’t let you pass."

He uncrossed his arms at last, the simple motion carrying a quiet sense of finality. Then he took one step forward.

The arena trembled.

Not violently no explosion kr shockwave but the water itself seemed to tense, as if the world had just acknowledged a shift in intent.. As unsettled water due to Razeal actions just now.. automatically came to rest. Just like that.

"So I suggest this," Knox continued calmly. "Step out of the arena on your own. Give up. I don’t want to be the one who does it for you." His eyes narrowed just slightly. "This is your last chance."

Razeal’s instincts screamed.

Before his mind could fully catch up, his body reacted on its own. He raised one hand sharply, palm outward.

"Wait."

The single word cut through the space between them.

Knox halted mid-step, surprised enough to lift a brow. The pressure he’d begun to exert eased, though it never truly vanished.

"What is it?" Knox asked, curiosity flickering through his tone. "You got something to say?"

Razeal swallowed. He knew.. deep down, with terrifying clarity that if Knox truly attacked, this would end instantly. There would be no recovery, no clever maneuver, no miracle reflex. Whatever Knox did would be decisive.

Yet despite that certainty, something stubborn refused to let him walk away.

"Let me try again," Razeal said. His voice was steady, though his chest felt tight. "Just once."

He hesitated, then corrected himself, lifting a finger.

"No... ten strikes."

The words hung in the water.

Knox stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing the boy’s sanity rather than his strength. "Ten?" he repeated slowly.

Razeal nodded. Inside, his thoughts churned. He didn’t believe this would work ..not truly. But the skill... the absurd, ridiculous skill he’d just received. If there was ever a chance to test it, this was it. And if it failed?

Then nothing would change.

"All right... I’ll let you," Knox said, raising a finger. "But you’ll have to give up this match yourself and openly declare that you’re no longer interested in playing. You only joined this competition because you wanted to fight, not for the rewards. Agreed?"

Razeal understood immediately what Knox wanted. Still, he nodded. "All right," he said. I will.

Obviously, he couldn’t win, right? But at least he would get to make the choice himself. Now he was genuinely curious whether this would work or not though he didn’t have much expectation.

"All right then. Come at me," Knox said with a smile.

It seemed they wouldn’t lose much face this way. If they had failed him without even giving him an examination, it would have looked bad. But now, if he gave up on his own, the responsibility wouldn’t fall on them.

As for what the kid was planning? Knox didn’t care. What could it possibly be, anyway? He didn’t care at all.

"Show me what you want to try."

To Knox’s mild surprise, Razeal didn’t charge. Instead, he reached back and slid his sword into its sheath.

That alone caused a flicker of interest to pass through the ancient creature’s eyes.

"Oh?" Knox rumbled. "Hands now?"

Razeal didn’t answer.

The moment his sword clicked into place, his body vanished.

Not a blur. Not a dash.

He was simply gone.

Then.. there.

Razeal appeared beside Knox’s face, close enough to feel the sheer mass of him, the density of his presence like standing next to a living continent. His right arm drew back instinctively, muscles coiling not with rage or desperation, but with intent.

No expectation.

No confidence.

Just resolve.

His fist drove forward.

A simple punch.. With his full strength behind.

Razeal didn’t expect much. In truth, he would have been satisfied with the bare minimum a doubling of force, maybe. Something, anything, that proved the skill wasn’t a cruel joke to him.

His knuckles touched Knox’s jaw.

And the world broke.

A blinding flash of crimson text exploded into existence before his eyes, so sudden it nearly stole his breath.

CRITICAL HIT SUCCESSFUL

BILLION TIMES DAMAGE CRITICAL

For a fraction of a second, everything went utterly silent.

No water.

No heartbeat.

No breath.

Just silence

As if the universe itself had inhaled.

Then

THRA~~KABOOOOM.

The sound wasn’t a noise so much as an event. A concussive thunderclap that felt less like an explosion and more like the detonation of something fundamental like a star collapsing in on itself.

----