Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for—the final match of the tournament!"

The announcer's voice echoed through the massive arena, carrying over the thunderous cheers of the crowd.

Spectators leaned forward eagerly in their seats, eyes glittering with anticipation.

Flags waved, and chants filled the air as excitement pulsed like a living thing through the audience.

"From the indomitable stronghold of Elthram, a man whose strength knows no limits—the unshakable titan, Nathan, the Iron Warden!"

Nathan strode into the arena, every step steady and deliberate.

His polished armor gleamed under the midday sun, and the steel spear in his hand caught the light like a blade of fate.

His stoic face showed no reaction to the deafening cheers.

"Fuck, how's the underdog gonna get out of this one!"

One spectator roared.

"Shut that dang annoying dog's mouth up!"

Another shouted.

But then the tone shifted as the announcer's voice rose again.

"And facing him, the wildcard from Fendral... The man who laughs in the face of defeat, a master of unpredictability—Ivaim, the Underdog!"

A wave of wild cheers followed as Ivaim sauntered onto the battlefield, hands casually resting on his hips, a confident grin plastered on his face.

His messy white hair danced in the breeze, and there was a gleam of mischief in his eyes that made the crowd roar even louder.

"You got this, Underdog! I don't care if you win, just annoy the sh*t out of that handsome bastard so much that he'll turn ugly!"

A voice shouted from somewhere in the stands.

"He's got no chance against Nathan, but it'll be a fun show!"

Someone else called with a laugh, earning a ripple of laughter from the crowd.

Ivaim's lips twitched at the comment from the crowd.

'Gee, thanks for the faith, buddy.'

He thought dryly.

Unlike the other matches, Ivaim wasn't wearing armor this time.

His outfit was stripped down to the essentials, a pair of sturdy kneepads and armpads, along with a simple shirt and reinforced boots.

In his hand, he held a thick wooden club instead of his usual baton.

'No way I'm giving Nathan any advantage.'

Ivaim mused, eyeing the gleaming steel spear in Nathan's grip.

'If I wore anything metal, he'd just turn it against me.'

The air was heavy with anticipation, every sound from the restless crowd sharpening the tension on the battlefield.

'Man, this is such an unfair matchup...'
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Ivaim thought with a wry grin.

As Ivaim jogged to his position, Nathan's eyes narrowed, reading every movement with a calm, calculating focus.

His lips barely twitched, but there was an unmistakable message in his gaze... it had "I'll beat you to a pulp" written all over his eyes.

Ivaim just grinned wider, twirling the wooden club in his hand like a toy.

"Don't look so serious, Mr. Iron Warden."

He called out.

"You might actually scare me."

The announcer's voice boomed one final time.

"The Iron Warden versus the Underdog! Strength versus strategy! Unstoppable force versus unpredictable fury! Who will rise as the champion?"

Ivaim turned toward Nathan with a grin.

"Ready to loosen up that stoic face a bit, champ?"

Nathan's voice was cold and steady.

"Stop talking..."

Ivaim chuckled, cracking his knuckles.

"Hehe, can't help it. My fans really wanna see you be pissed off."

The arena held its breath as the referee's hand hovered in the air.

Every cheer, whisper, and murmur from the crowd faded into silence.

Then it came:

"Begin!"

Ivaim sprang into motion without hesitation, flicking his wrist as he unleashed [Coin of Fortune].

The gleaming coin soared toward Nathan, shimmering faintly with the promise of fate's chaos.

Nathan's response was swift and controlled. He extended his hand, activating [Metal Manipulation].

The coin didn't even make it halfway across the field before slamming to the ground, pinned by an unseen force.

The moment it hit the dirt, a dark shimmer rippled outward, warping the ground beneath it.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor as tremors rippled through the arena.

'I need to make this place as unpredictable as possible...'

Ivaim thought, grinning despite the danger.

Above, the sound of shifting metal pierced the air.

Nathan raised his hand, and from the arena walls, countless iron spears detached and hovered ominously in the sky.

Ivaim's eyes widened.

'Damn it!'

The spears descended like a deadly rain.

But Ivaim was already moving.

With an effortless burst, he activated [Lucky Leap], his body twisting through the chaos in an almost absurd display of fortune-driven agility.

Spear after spear missed by inches, clanging harmlessly into the arena floor.

"Damn, Nathan!"

Ivaim shouted, twisting midair to avoid another spear.

"Stop trying to penetrate me!"

The crowd erupted into shocked laughter.

Nathan's stoic expression didn't waver, but his lips twitched unobviously.

Without a word, he dashed forward, his speed impossibly fast, closing the distance between them in seconds.

'He's using [Metallic Manipulation] on his own armor to boost himself...'

Ivaim realized as he caught the faint shimmer around Nathan's metallic gear.

Nathan's spear gleamed as he thrust it toward Ivaim, aiming for a decisive strike.

Ivaim's instincts kicked in.

He activated [Lucky Leap] once again, vaulting backward in a dizzying blur.

His feet barely touched the ground before he was forced to leap again, narrowly dodging Nathan's relentless pursuit.

'Too fast!'

Just as Ivaim prepared to counter, his instincts screamed danger.

'Behind!'

He twisted sharply, but it was too late.

Woosh.

A spear sliced through the air, grazing past his shoulder.

Pain flared as blood seeped through his shirt.

"Hah..." Ivaim grunted, gritting his teeth.

"Nice shot. You almost penetrated me!"

The crowd erupted into laughter despite the tension, though Nathan remained stoic, his piercing gaze never wavering.

Ivaim flexed his wounded arm, wincing slightly but grinning as if he hadn't just narrowly dodged death.

Without warning, he raised both arms and flicked his wrists, scattering a handful of shimmering coins into the air.

Nathan's sharp eyes tracked every glint of metal as they spiraled across the battlefield.

His instincts kicked in instantly.

Extending his hand, he activated [Metal Manipulation].

The coins clattered to the ground as if struck by invisible weights, pinned firmly before they could land where Ivaim wanted.

But something was different this time.

The faint dark shimmer from before thickened, expanding like ink spilling across the floor. The air grew heavy, vibrating with an ominous hum.

It was the aura of misfortune... a thick aura at that.

A gust of wind swept through the arena, erratic and biting. Loose sand and debris whirled into unpredictable spirals, obscuring visibility.

What was once a clearly defined battleground had transformed into a chaotic nightmare.

The ground beneath Nathan's feet cracked without warning, forcing him to reposition as fractures spread in jagged patterns.

A spear embedded nearby wobbled, falling over as though it had lost its balance.

The crowd murmured nervously.

"What's happening?"

Someone said, practically voicing out the confusion of others as well.

Nathan's grip on his spear tightened.

Even his practiced footwork faltered as patches of unstable earth formed beneath him.

He narrowed his eyes, scanning for Ivaim through the swirling chaos.

Ivaim's voice echoed mischievously through the haze as he activated [Whisper].

"You've always been scared of things that are unpredictable to you, haven't you?"