The screens went blank. The shockwave that ensued after the collision of both attacks was so intense that it enveloped the entire arena, obscuring the live stream.

People stared at the screens with wide eyes, leaning forward as if they could will themselves into it to see the outcome firsthand. The tension in the air was just that insane.

To them, the battle had to be over. The explosion they had just witnessed was too immense, like the climactic finale at the peak of every battle.

The seconds that followed were slow and excruciating for everyone watching. The people of the human domain felt their hearts racing, many muttering prayers under their breaths.

Anastasia's heart pounded so hard that every person in the Ravenstein estate could have heard it. Yet, no one paid attention, as their own hearts were also racing.

Finally, the inevitable happened. The dust that obscured the entire arena began to clear, revealing the aftermath.

On one side, the two Carius hovered, weapons in hand, their cold gazes fixed forward, and an overwhelming aura continued to build around them. But everyone's focus was on one detail: they were both unscathed.

They turned their attention to the other side, and the hearts of the humans watching tightened. Tears streaked down Anastasia's face as though the world was crumbling around her.

Atticus barely hovered high above the abyss below, blood dripping steadily from his wounds into the darkness. His entire body was covered in cuts and gashes, and he was no longer clad in his exosuit. His clothes were torn and soaked in blood.

He was in terrible shape.

In that moment, any thoughts of winning the competition faded from the minds of the humans. But then, their eyes met his, and every doubt was erased.

Despite his terrible condition, despite the struggle it took just to remain in the air, the cold determination in Atticus's eyes never wavered.

It was as if he felt no pain, as if his condition was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

His eyes were locked onto a single figure— one of the two Carius hovering before him. Though Magnus had advised him to survive if this ability was used against him, he had also explained the way to break it— a weakness, if one could even call it that. Due to its immense difficulty, it was hardly a weakness at all.

Atticus's eyes flashed.

'That's the true one.'

The other copies Carius had summoned were identical in every way— their aura, features, and even expressions. It was as if this was Carius's intention, to create perfect clones. The method to break the technique was simple, but executing it was not: killing the original. When faced with five identical foes, focusing on just one was impossible, and Atticus would have been dead before he could do anything, especially since each clone had the full power of Carius.

Discovering which one was the original was another challenge.

But now that their numbers had been reduced, those challenges seemed surmountable.

He stared at the Carius on the left. Atticus didn't know how or why, but he just knew that this was the original.

Carius's eyes locked onto Atticus, his focus fixed on the battered figure before him. He had tried his best not to admit it, but with everything that had transpired, he could no longer deny it.

At this point, he couldn't hide the surprise— no, the irritation— at seeing Atticus still standing.

Bloodied, but his eyes were cold as ice. He looked as though he was at death's door, yet his aura pulsed with a growing intensity, as if his very rage was warping the space around them.

Carius felt anger coursing through his body. He should be the one feeling the rage that Atticus was currently displaying. He was the one whose plan had been interrupted. How dared this human feel anger when he was the victim?

Carius had never been one to waste time talking. But those eyes— he wanted them to change. He hated them. He wanted to see despair, hopelessness.

Atticus's eyes infuriated him. A bug should act like a bug— nothing more.

"You know… when this competition began, I thought of you as nothing more than an insect— a worthless human who'd be crushed beneath the weight of true power. It should have been effortless."

Carius's voice echoed across the arena, reaching the ears of every spectator. He hadn't bothered to put up any barrier to block the sound; he wanted Atticus and everyone else to hear.

"And yet, here you stand… still breathing, still defiant. I must admit, you've proven yourself more than a simple nuisance."

Carius tilted his head, his expression hardening.

"But don't misunderstand me, human. This is not a compliment. This is a reminder of your place. You've only managed to prolong the inevitable. You cling to life like a desperate fool, struggling against a force you cannot hope to overcome."

"Regardless, I suppose I should thank you, though. You've revealed something interesting… perhaps your kind has potential. Who would've thought a human like you could push me this far?" "When this competition is over, I will visit your human domain. I'll take my time experimenting on your kind. I'll start with the ones closest to you. Your immediate family members… since they birthed this anomaly."

"Yes… they'll be the first. I want to see if the rest of your pathetic bloodline holds the same spark you do, or if it's just a fluke."

"And if not, I'll wipe them all out. One by one. Perhaps they'll be useful for something— testing the limits of pain, maybe."

The silence that followed was heavy, and the atmosphere grew suffocating.

An intense anger simmered across the entire human domain.

People clenched their fists, eyes blazing with rage.

An experiment.

Over the years, humans had faced all sorts of disregard from other races— some direct, some indirect. But hearing a youth, not even 20 years old, speak those words was infuriating.