Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 550 Death Taking Its Throne

With a thunderous gallop, Gaban, the mighty centaur, charged towards Riff with a fury that echoed the wrath of an ancient deity. His hooves, as massive as the mountains, struck the ground with seismic force, sending shockwaves rippling through the earth. 

The ground beneath his powerful hooves groaned and quaked, as if the very earth itself were on the verge of breaking open under the weight of his wrath. Each thunderous beat of his hooves sent shockwaves rippling through the arena, stirring the dust into a chaotic dance.

The very stage beneath him quivered, as if protesting the raw power contained within this magnificent creature. His silver armor glinted in the harsh light of the arena, reflecting the sheer determination etched upon his equine and human features.

In his hands, the twin broadswords glimmered like shards of moonlight, each blade humming with an otherworldly resonance. As Gaban swung the blades through the air, they left trails of incandescent light, painting arcs of impending doom. 

The very atmosphere crackled with the anticipation of violence, as if the air itself recoiled from the sheer brutality about to be unleashed.

As he closed the distance between himself and Riff, the air seemed to warp and twist around him, suffused with the potent aura of magic. Sparks danced along his muscular form, tracing the contours of his body in a luminous display of power. 

Every sinew of his being thrummed with an otherworldly energy, a force that seemed to pull at the very fabric of reality. With a primal roar that echoed across the land of Imperilment as Gaban lunged at Riff, his blades slashing through the space with a ferocity that defied description.

The atmosphere seemed to pulse with the intensity of their impending clash, as if the very elements of nature were holding their breath, waiting to witness the outcome of this titanic struggle.

On the other side of the arena, Ambrosia, with her sharp claws gleaming like polished obsidian, launched herself towards Curtin with a deadly grace. 

Her eyes, ablaze with fierce determination for the throne of Alpha, locked onto her target like a predator sighting its prey. 

Each step she took seemed to imprint upon the very ground, leaving deep marks as a testament to her unwavering resolve.

Curtin, dressed like a scholar amidst the chaos of battle, remained unfazed. His calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the turmoil around him, as if he were an island of tranquility in a raging storm. 

He didn't even bother to face Ambrosia, his confidence unwavering. 

His smile, enigmatic and serene, hinted at a knowledge of the unfolding events that surpassed the comprehension of mere mortals. He stood his ground, unmoving, his gaze fixed on Riff, acknowledging the immense power of the half-born demon.

As Ambrosia lunged at Curtin, her claws slashing through the air with deadly precision, Curtin's smile persisted. He seemed to know something, something that transcended the battlefield and the immediate conflict at hand.

This perplexed Ambrosia, but it was not enough to sway her from her determination. 

In this epic struggle, Imperilment had become a battleground of chaotic proportions, where the raw power of warriors and the enigmatic knowledge of strategists collided. 

The spectators in the Arena, their breaths held in awe, witnessed a spectacle that transcended mortal comprehension.

This was when it happened. 

In the heart of this chaotic sub plane, Riff, stood with an air of calm authority. His eyes, like smoldering embers, glinted with ancient knowledge as he raised his hand with deliberate grace. 

A sudden hush fell over the arena, the silence amplifying the tension that hung in the air like a heavy fog.

With a swift, slashing motion, Riff's hand cut through the space before him, leaving behind an ephemeral trail of crimson energy. It was a gesture both elegant and lethal, a testament to the mastery he held over the Cosmic energy in the air. 

In that moment, the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple around him, acknowledging the sheer power at his command.

Ambrosia, in the midst of her attacking motion, suddenly froze as if time itself had come to a standstill. Her eyes widened in shock, reflecting the disbelief that gripped her soul. 

Before her, an invisible force seemed to materialize, tearing through her with merciless precision.

In an instant, Ambrosia was split diagonally in two.

Her form falling apart as if she were a marionette whose strings had been abruptly cut. 

~SILENCE~

The gasp of horror from the spectators resonated through the arena, a collective intake of breath as they witnessed the brutal and sudden demise of the courageous warrior.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the soft rustle of Ambrosia's fallen form and the distant echoes of the spectators' stunned murmurs. 

Riff, his hand now lowered, regarded the scene with a stoic expression.

 His calm demeanor belied the immense power he had just unleashed, a force that had effortlessly vanquished one of the arena's most formidable contenders for the position of Alpha.

In that moment, the reality of the dystopian world asserted itself—a subplane where strength reigned supreme, where the line between victory and defeat was as thin as a razor's edge. 

The fight had started out in great anticipation of an epic clash but had ended as fast as it began. Those back in the Arena that had screamed their fervent love for Ambrosia all froze in shock. Their eyes saw it, but their hearts refused to believe it.

It was only one move. One move and the match had ended. One move. 

Gaban immediately turned. He had realized his mess up. he had assumed that the fight would be a fair one. He would face Riff and ambrosia would handle her brother. But things went so sideways that now, his life was gone. 

Like the others that had died before him, the red chains from the mark coiled about his body, breaking and tearing him to meat paste.

As the arena stood in grim silence, the fate of Ambrosia served as a chilling reminder to all—a reminder of the merciless nature of this Tournament. It had only began and death had already taken its throne...