MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Before Anthony and his family could gain any significant distance, a figure tore through the atmosphere with a velocity so intense that it seemed to warp the very air around it.

The wind howled in protest, spiraling into wild currents that whistled sharply and trembled with an almost primal fury, as if bowing to the overwhelming force of the intruder's speed.

Collins and his descendants remained motionless, their composure unshaken, as they had already sensed the presence long before it made its descent.

Unlike the sheer force and speed with which the being descended, its landing was remarkably delicate.

Not a single speck of dust stirred as its feet met the ground, a testament to the unnerving precision and absolute mastery over its own power.

None of them uttered a word as the figure landed, choosing instead to wait in silence.

The figure was a vampire, distinguished by his striking white hair and eyes, with an enigmatic tattoo etched across his face.

His being remained calm and restrained, a clear indication of his caution, he dared not display arrogance in the presence of individuals capable of ending his existence with nothing more than a single glance.

The vampire inclined his head in a solemn bow to those before him, his voice carrying a respectful tone as he spoke.

"I am tasked with guiding you to the gathering, my lords"

Collins nodded, preparing to step forward, when suddenly another presence stirred from the shadow cast by the first vampire.

It was yet another vampire.

She too bowed with equal reverence and spoke, her tone as respectful as her companion's.

"I have been instructed to escort the Human race champion to a separate location"

The moment the words left her lips, a frown darkened Mitchelle's expression.

She was unwavering, there was no way she would allow her son to be taken from her sight.

"Every champion is taken to another location Mitchelle, no need to worry about anything, what could even happen to him in the presence of the four of us"

Michael's voice sounded as he explained.

Mitchelle's expression returned to its usual, unreadable calm as her gaze briefly lingered on Anthony.

Anthony, ever composed, remained still, though his senses were alight with the palpable mana in the air.

While it lacked the purity and density of the Divine realm, it was undeniably impressive, a force that resonated in the very atmosphere around them.

Anthony turned his gaze to meet his mother's, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though they shared an unspoken understanding, an exchange so subtle it seemed telepathic, yet neither had uttered a word.

They nodded in unison, their silent agreement clear between them.

The vampire turned, leading the way as Anthony's parents and grandparents followed closely behind.

They moved through the terrain with an effortless blend of speed and precision, their steps unwavering and consistent.

Soon, they entered a vast castle, its grandeur imposing yet silent.

As they navigated its sprawling halls, the corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, their lengths distorted by some unseen force, as if the very space itself bent to the will of the place.

The vampire led them to a grand door, standing tall and majestic, as though it took great pride in the power of the being it protected.

Its presence alone seemed to command reverence, the very air around it heavy with authority.

A dragon and an elf stood as silent sentinels before the door, their forms imposing yet still.

However, as the approaching presence drew near, both guardians instinctively shifted, parting to make way.

Their gazes locked onto the newcomer, respect and awareness flickering in their eyes, acknowledging the magnitude of what approached.

In unison, the dragon, the elf, and the vampire all bowed, their gestures deliberate and full of reverence.

With a subtle motion, they signaled for Anthony and his family to proceed, inviting them into the chamber beyond with a quiet but commanding presence.

Mitchelle moved with effortless grace, stepping in front of the door, which swung open automatically at her presence, responding to her very existence without a single touch.

As they entered, their eyes were met with a gathering of individuals, some faces unfamiliar, names unknown, each one a stranger to them.

Though many of the figures in the room were strangers to them, there was no mistaking the immense power that radiated from their bodies.

They took their seats upon chairs that resembled thrones, suspended in the air as if by some unseen force.

Of course the patriarch and head of every major race was present here.

As for the others present, unrecognized by Anthony's family, they were simply the kin of the champions representing their respective races, family members who stood in silent support, their roles clear but their identities shrouded in mystery for the moment.

Much like Anthony's family, these figures knew their children's lives were at risk in this moment.

They would be there to witness the trials firsthand, and they would remain in the background, awaiting the triumphant return of their progeny.

In an instant, the presence of Michael, Mitchelle, Collins, and Irene seemed to dissolve from the space around them, their forms vanishing as if swallowed by the very fabric of reality.

Less than a split second later, they materialized upon thrones of their own, each one perfectly poised in the vastness of space, as if the thrones were made for them alone.

A profound silence descended upon the room, so absolute that even space itself seemed to shudder in response to the stillness.

Though they were not present to compete themselves, their children and the younger generation carried the weight of the contest.

It was their time to face the trials, to prove their worth, while the elders watched, their fates intertwined with the actions of those who would inherit their legacies.

Yet, this mattered little, for the victor of this bloodied contest would earn the right to represent them once more in a far greater struggle.
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The rewards awaiting the champion were nothing short of glorious to these powerhouses, even for those who had lived through countless triumphs of their own, making the stakes all the more significant.

So they were all competing in a sense.

"So we are complete then"

The silence shattered as Aeltharion spoke, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

His words, calm and measured, seemed to dispel the nonexistent tension that had hung in the air, replacing the oppressive silence with a sense of purpose and movement.

"Yes we are"

Elara said with a smile.

"Then let's get on with it immediately. There's no need for any more time wasting"

Gorath said with a wide grin, his voice thick with eager anticipation.

His blood surged with excitement, the thrill of the impending battle coursing through him.

If it were possible, he would have leaped into the future just to witness the match unfold, unable to contain his fervor.

Everyone nodded in agreement, but before they could take another step, the Dragon King Iserios spoke.

"Before we begin, we all need to sign a Mana contract"

The moment Iserios uttered those words, the atmosphere shifted dramatically, turning frigid as a surge of auras flared to life.

The entire space seemed to tremble, as if the very air was charged with the raw power of their combined presence, flooding the room with an overwhelming force.

"What do you mean by this Iserios"

Aurelius spoke coldly, his voice devoid of any hesitation or warmth, each word carrying an icy certainty that seemed to freeze the very air around him.

Beings of their caliber loathed concepts like Mana contracts, for such bindings were among the rare few forces that could limit their boundless power and autonomy.

To them, it was an affront to their freedom, a restraint on their ability to act without constraint.

They despised it, as no being of their stature could tolerate restriction.

Why endure the grueling process of cultivation, only to be shackled by something or someone?

A Mana contract was an absolute binding, an unbreakable law of the world, one so potent that no artifact, no matter how powerful, could circumvent its hold.

It was a chain that no one of their caliber could accept.

Breaking a Mana contract was no different from courting death itself.

The consequences were absolute, as violating such an agreement would invoke forces far beyond one's control, leading to a fate far worse than mere defeat, total annihilation.

Iserios spoke in a meaningful tone in reply to Aurelius' words.

"We are here to witness the death of our loved ones. What is stopping any of us from saving our child before they die?"

Everything instantly turned grim as those words sounded.

Yes, what Iserios said is indeed the truth.

What was stopping any of them from acting when they were about to witness the death of their own child?

Even if they claimed they would not interfere, those words were fragile, easily broken when instincts overruled reason.

In the heat of the moment, their bodies might react before their minds could even catch up.

Deep down, they all knew this truth, that the temptation to act, to protect, could be overwhelming.

Yet, if any of them did intervene, the bloodbath would lose its purpose, and the balance they sought to uphold would be shattered.

Iserios had thought of this, which is why he proposed the mana contract to prevent any of them from acting from this moment onward or interfering with the life of the winner after the bloodbath.

When the Mana contract appeared in front of them all, a sense of uneasiness descended upon some of them.

Although they had the utmost confidence in their own champion's triumph, a question descended upon their minds.

What if?

What if their champion lost?

This rang in their minds for a while.

They all knew that a battlefield was ever-changing, nothing was absolute or permanent.

Therefore, the possibility of their child and champion dying existed, and this thought stirred uneasiness in their minds.

Of course, the heads of each race wouldn't act or intervene, as the champions weren't truly their sons or daughters, so their deaths wouldn't affect them.

They had witnessed the rise and fall of numerous geniuses, so to them, this was just another name on the list.

So, they signed the mana contract without issue.

But the same couldn't be said for the parents and family members of the champions.

They couldn't just sit and watch their own child die in front of them.

Their faces darkened as they struggled with what to do.

If they refused to sign the mana contract, their champion would automatically be disqualified from the bloodbath.

And if their champion found out, they would be torn, feeling as though even their own family didn't believe in them.

Mitchelle felt like killing everyone present as she looked at the contract.

She had planned to interfere if Anthony was anywhere near death.

But now, this contract stopped her.

She couldn't imagine how Anthony would feel if he was disqualified because she didn't believe in him.

It felt as if her love for her son had been split in half.

The first half of her love urged her to believe in her genius son and sign the mana contract.

The second half urged her to refuse and leave with her son, as the other champions were also geniuses in their own right.

Michael, Collins, and Irene watched Mitchelle, knowing she was struggling internally.

They understood her state, but didn't interfere.

She wasn't the only one going through this.

Every family of the champions was facing the same dilemma.

But in the end, they all gritted their teeth and signed.

They all signed their names using their mana before the Mana contract glowed, scattering into light fragments that entered their bodies.

As for the punishment for interfering?

It was simple.

Loss of all cultivation realms.

Loss of the ability to use mana, mana-related skills, arts, techniques, abilities, artifacts, and equipment.

Basically, anything that required mana would no longer work in their hands, even if they held an artifact that didn't require a single drop of mana from its user, it won't work.

They wouldn't even be able to start cultivating again, even if they wanted to.