CHAPTER 138: YOU ARE TOO WEAK

Chapter 137

The moment the Null’s voice echoed across the stage—"You are too weak"—Han froze.

In an instant, the nightmare that had haunted him for months resurfaced, more vivid than ever. He wasn’t standing in the arena anymore—he was back there. In that dream. That twisted vision of the future where everyone he cared about lay dead: friends, family, allies... no survivors. Just blood, ash, and silence.

His eyes lost focus. Time itself fractured around him. For a fleeting eternity, Han stood motionless, his soul drowning in memories of despair.

If he was being honest with himself, the real reason he trained so hard... the reason he threw himself into every portal, faced death again and again, wasn’t just to destroy the Cursed Organization or to protect his aunt. That was only part of it. The real reason was far darker, deeper.

That nightmare—the one the White-Eyed Entity called the future—had changed everything.

According to that being, the calamity was inevitable... unless Han became strong enough to stop it. That was the only path forward. So Han pushed himself beyond his limits. Fought, bled, endured. And in doing so, he had grown. He’d become something far more powerful than the boy who first witnessed that vision.

He believed only the S-Class elites could challenge him now—and even they wouldn’t defeat him easily.

But now...

That belief shattered.

Null’s strength was overwhelming. A void that swallowed all effort and all hope. For the first time in a long while, Han felt something gnaw at his chest—helplessness.

"...Weak..."

The word echoed in his mind like a curse.

Weak... weak... weak...

Han’s pupils dilated, his breath sharp and ragged. His rage swelled, fighting against the fear clawing at his insides.

Then, something inside him snapped.

He raised his hands skyward.

"Ifrit."

At the name, the very air trembled. A blistering inferno erupted behind Han, swallowing half the stage in flame. And from the flames emerged a towering figure, humanoid but otherworldly—a being of living fire. Majestic and terrifying, like the very embodiment of destruction. The crowd went silent.

Even the heroes and dignitaries in the VIP section stared, speechless.

Han slowly pointed a single finger toward the blazing titan.

"Merge."

The flaming entity descended, phasing into Han’s body like molten lava poured into a mold. Fire coiled around him, swallowing him whole.

For a long, tense moment—nothing.

No screams. No smell of burning flesh. Just silence.

Then the flames began to rise once more, peeling away, unraveling like layers of molten cloth—until finally, one figure remained.

Han.

But not the Han they knew.

His black-and-white hair still marked him as recognizable, but that was the only familiar trait. His body levitated effortlessly, glowing with raw, violent energy. Flaming red tattoos crawled along his arms and legs like living veins, pulsing with heat. His eyes now held burning rings of fire, swirling like galaxies of destruction. A fiery sigil glowed on his forehead, throbbing in sync with his heartbeat. And behind him, floating inches from his back, hovered a massive ring of flame—a crown of power that blazed like a second sun.

"Cool... Awesome!"

Someone in the crowd couldn’t help but shout in awe.

Despite the loud outburst, no one scolded him. No one even blinked. They were too stunned, too captivated by the blazing spectacle unfolding before them.

So this... this is why he’s called the Fire God.

That thought echoed simultaneously in the minds of everyone present.

Han’s eyes, though calmer now, still flickered with barely suppressed rage. He turned his gaze to the Null, who remained utterly motionless—still standing in the exact same spot. His featureless face made it impossible to discern any change in expression, but the lack of reaction... the stillness... only amplified the tension.

The silence was finally broken by the announcer, who recovered enough to put on his usual high-energy voice:

"There you have it, everyone! The Fire God has revealed his true strength before us all! Is the Null finally in danger? Has the battle truly begun now that Han is taking things seriously?"

The temperature in the arena had surged drastically. Heat waves shimmered in the air, distorting the very space around the stage. Some in the audience began to sweat profusely.

But then, a faint hum echoed from above as a massive, cylindrical contraption descended from the ceiling. Long vents hissed with icy mist, rapidly cooling the air throughout the arena. The device, known as the AeroFrost-X, was developed by Lord Tech—a powerful gadgets used to regulate stadium climates, drawing frigid air directly from the Subglacial Ocean.

Within seconds, the audience seating returned to bearable temperatures.

But inside the stage’s golden barrier, where Han and the Null stood—the heat remained. And within that hellish pressure, Null showed no signs of discomfort.

"I’m not weak," Han said quietly, his voice low but sharp, like the hiss of a blade being unsheathed.

The Null’s distorted voice responded calmly, "Aren’t you?"

To Han, it sounded like mockery.

"I’ll show you," he whispered.

Then, he spread his arms wide.

Small sparks of flame erupted across the stage, floating gently at first—then growing, churning, expanding into spinning vortexes of roaring fire.

"Inferno Vortex."

His words were almost serene, in contrast to the devastation he unleashed.

The massive whirlwinds of fire shot forward like living storms, screaming as they tore across the stage toward the Null. But the faceless being didn’t remain idle. With speed that bordered on the supernatural, Null weaved and twisted, dodging each vortex with seamless precision.

But it wasn’t enough.

The vortexes didn’t stop. They multiplied, surged, and curved mid-air, chasing Null like heat-seeking serpents of flame. One slammed into him. Then another. And another. Within seconds, the Null was relentlessly bombarded, each impact sending shockwaves through the reinforced golden barrier.

The entire stage was engulfed in fire.

The barrier—fortified to nearly five times its usual strength—now crackled violently under the pressure, fissures forming as the flames raged on.

And just when the audience thought it couldn’t get any worse...

Han raised a single finger.

At its tip, a brilliant sphere of flame began to form—not launched outward, but compressed inward. The blazing orb shrank, smaller and smaller, folding in on itself until it was no larger than a glowing egg. Yet the pressure it emitted was suffocating.

Then—he let it go.

The tiny flame shot forward at a mesmerizing speed, merging with the inferno already consuming the battlefield. The moment it touched the raging fire—

BOOM.

A colossal surge erupted. Pillars of flame towered into the sky. The very ground beneath the stage rumbled. The inferno multiplied tenfold, a chain reaction of devastation that shook the golden barrier to its core.

BOOOOOOM!

As expected, the golden barrier shattered—but just like before, a second-layered shield activated instantly, absorbing the blazing aftermath. Though cracks snaked across its surface and it trembled under the pressure, it held firm. Seconds later, the flames began to subside, and silence returned.

The audience sat frozen, their faces drenched in sweat—not just from the heat, but from the terror of what might’ve been. Had the flames broken through... death was all but certain.

Emotions ran wild—awe, fear, admiration, and disbelief—all tangled together in the hushed arena. No one spoke. No one moved. Even breathing felt like a disturbance to the moment.

In the distance, Jay watched from the waiting area. A crooked smile touched his lips—not one of amusement, but of anticipation.

If he won his next match, he’d be the one to face that monster cloaked in fire.

Han.

The Fire God.

Jay’s fists tightened. Han was powerful—maybe even too powerful. But instead of fear, a wild sense of joy surged in his chest.

"Finally... a worthy opponent," he murmured, smiling fully now.

---

Back on the battlefield, Han hovered above what remained of the scorched stage. His eyes—still glowing red with infernal light—scanned the field below.

Black smoke billowed, thick and suffocating. Slowly, it began to dissipate, revealing the scene bit by bit. The crowd collectively held their breath.

And when the smoke cleared—

Gasps echoed throughout the stadium.

Some people covered their mouths. Others sucked in cold breaths, eyes wide in disbelief.

There, lying motionless, was the Null.

But what stunned everyone wasn’t just the sight of his body—it was his cloak.

Completely intact.

Not a single burn, not a single tear. Despite the overwhelming inferno that had swallowed the stage, the Null’s black cloak remained untouched.

Speculation erupted like wildfire.

"Was he vaporized and only the cloak remains?"

"No... that cloak must be an S-rank artifact!"

"Could he be a spirit? Maybe that’s why he survived..."

Everyone had their own theory, but they all agreed on one thing:

Han had won.

The Fire God had defeated the Null... or so it seemed.

But Han knew better.

He could still feel it—a faint pulse, a quiet pressure.

The Null was not dead.

And just as if on cue—

The Null rose.

He floated silently out of the rubble, untouched, unburnt, completely composed. The stage beneath him was unrecognizable—scorched black and crumbling—but he stood tall at its center like a ghost reborn from the flames.

He turned to Han.

"Is that all?"

The voice was the same—distorted, calm, yet piercing.

Han’s heart sank. That one sentence cut deeper than any blade. He had unleashed everything—every ounce of energy, every refined attack, every strategy... and yet, this monster stood there without a scratch.

His chest heaved. His limbs ached. But his will refused to falter.

He couldn’t give up.

Not now. Not when he was so close.

Just as Han gathered himself to strike again—

The Null’s voice echoed, distorted but still eerily serene:

"I quit."

The arena went silent.

To be continued...