CHAPTER 190: CH 190 : START OF FINAL ROUND

Adam, the referee and the host of the tournament of Gods, floated serenely at the center of the arena, a calm anchor in a sea of anticipation.

A gentle, knowing smile touched his lips as he let the cheers wash over him.

"Before we begin the final round," his voice boomed, a sound that was both a gentle whisper and a cosmic thunderclap, reaching every soul in the assembly, "let us have a break. For one month, all remaining champions, both demigod and mortal, shall rest, heal, and prepare for the final ascent."

A collective, universe-spanning groan of disappointment erupted from the stands. Trillions of voices, united in their desire for entertainment, booed the ancient God.

But Adam simply laughed, a warm, genuine sound that seemed to carry the weight of a billion years. He saw their impatience not as disrespect, but as passion.

He looked at the tired but triumphant demigods and the battle-worn mortal champions in the stands, and he knew this rest was a necessity.

The month passed in a blur of focused preparation. In the stands of the Pantheon, it was an armory of divine power. Sunny’s demigods, flush with the merits they had earned, descended upon Thea’s Cosmic Shop like hungry wolves.

Knowing the final round would be a grueling marathon of continuous one-on-one battles with little rest, they sought talents to bolster their endurance.

Loki, ever the opportunist, immediately purchased an SS-Grade Stamina Drain talent, a wicked ability that would allow him to siphon his opponent’s energy to replenish his own.

Nova, more practical, chose a simple but effective Endless Vigor talent, drastically increasing her own reserves.

Sunny, observing their choices, decided to bestow a gift of his own. He raised a hand, and a single, divine thought echoed in the minds of his creations. See as I see.

He granted each of them, with the exception of the already omniscient Nova and Thea, a blessing: a fragment of his own God’s Eye talent, an Eye of Truth that would allow them to perceive the talents and weaknesses of their opponents in the coming battles.

The other Gods were not idle. Inspired by Sunny’s generosity and fueled by the immense faith generated from their demigods’ victories, they too began to pour their resources into their champions, gifting them new talents and artifacts, preparing them for the final, glorious clash.

The month of preparation passed like a dream. Finally, the day arrived.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, champions and warriors from across the entire universe!" Adam’s voice boomed, his energy infectious. "I, Adam, your host and referee, hereby declare the start of the third and final round of the Tournament of Gods!"

A thunderous wave of applause, a psychic shockwave from trillions of beings, shook the very foundations of the arena.

"But before we begin, a few rules!" Adam announced. "This round will begin with the one-on-one battles of the mortal champions. One thousand battles will commence simultaneously in one thousand different arenas. After the mortals have crowned their victor, we will proceed to the demigod tournament, which will take place in a single, grand arena for all to witness."

He continued, "Two lifeforms will be chosen at random. The loser will be eliminated and returned to their home world. The winner will await their next match. This will continue until only one remains. Are the rules clear?"

A unified roar of "YES!" was his answer.

There were now one hundred million mortal champions and fifteen million demigods left in the tournament, the best of the best, the survivors of The Crucible.

"Then let us begin this final round, shall we?" Adam said, a profound, almost paternal happiness on his ancient face. He knew the current strength of these new champions was a pale shadow of the old demons, a flickering candle against a raging inferno.

But he saw their potential. He saw the fire in their eyes, the unyielding will to grow, a spirit that was a million times brighter than the demigods and even God’s under him.

"I believe in you all," he whispered to himself. He then glanced down at the green token in his hand, at the faint, sleeping light within. "how forgetful of me," he added with a soft smile. "We are also in this battle."

The first pairing was chosen. From a thousand different stands, two thousand champions vanished, teleported to their designated battlegrounds.

The main broadcast screen focused on a single arena, a lush, jungle biome.

On one side stood an elven fire mage, a woman of breathtaking beauty, her very form radiating a gentle, almost timid aura of mana.

On the other side stood her opponent, a creature of pure, chitinous nightmare. It was an insectoid warrior, human-sized, with six razor-sharp limbs, a segmented carapace the color of obsidian, and multifaceted eyes that glowed with a cold, predatory intelligence.

The elf, whose greatest fear in life was insects, let out a small, terrified squeak.

Her opponent was her worst nightmare given form. Her composure shattered. Panicked, she unleashed her full arsenal.

A storm of miniature suns, a barrage of plasma lances, a cataclysmic meteor strike; she threw every spell she knew, her only thought to obliterate the terrifying creature before it could get any closer.

The audience laughed at her clumsy, fear-driven assault. Even the Gods couldn’t help but chuckle.

In the stands of the Pantheon, however, the demigod of the insect race just smiled. This champion was one of his most brilliant students.

When the dust from the magical apocalypse finally settled, a wave of shock silenced the crowd. The insect warrior was still standing.

Its obsidian carapace was glowing a molten red, steam hissing from its joints, but it was completely unharmed.

A low, menacing chittering sound, the insect equivalent of a laugh, escaped its mandibles.

"My turn," a voice, cold and sharp, echoed in the elf’s mind.

The insect lunged. It moved with a speed that was impossible for its size, a black blur that crossed the arena in an instant.

The elf didn’t even have time to scream. A single, razor-sharp claw rested gently against her throat, the cold, hard chitin a final, terrifying sensation.

"I... I surrender," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please... just move a little away. I’m scared."

And then, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted from sheer terror. The moment her consciousness faded, she was teleported back to her stand, leaving the insect warrior alone in the silent arena.

[Congratulations! You have won your first battle]

The insect champion was teleported back to its own stand. It immediately looked over at the elven stand, a flicker of genuine concern in its alien eyes.

Seeing the elven mage being gently attended to by a pair of smiling angels, it let out a quiet hiss of relief before turning its attention to the other 999 battles that were still raging across the cosmos.

The time for mercy was over. It was time to study its future prey.