His already grotesquely thick hands, paired with his further enlarged frame, made the Ghoul Colossus’s fist blot out the sky like a falling celestial curtain.
Such overwhelming force carried a faint echo of Simon’s memory—the Divine Fist Shatter: Shockwave.
“Damn… damn, damn, damn!”
Until the very end, Xever glared with bloodshot eyes, cursing Simon madly.
BOOM!
A thunderous roar erupted as the mighty gray fist slammed into the earth, kicking up dust and sending cracks rippling outward.
Crack, crack, crack.
The poor rear mountain, battered repeatedly tonight, finally gave way.
The rock beneath Simon’s feet collapsed, plunging him into momentary weightlessness.
Just as he stumbled, Tidelys steadied him with a firm hand.
“Sir Shopkeeper, watch your step.”
“Thanks.”
After regaining balance, Simon murmured his thanks—then both turned toward the slowly rising fist.
At the impact’s center lay a sunken crater, as if struck by a meteor.
All summoned followers were sent back to the graveyard; the two robed figures lay limp and motionless.
“Is it… over?” Tidris leaned forward slightly.
Suddenly, a black vortex spiraled open at the arena’s heart, swirling as if pulling something in.
Before the onlookers could react, a soul bearing Xever’s terrified face drifted from his body.
“Huh… ah?”
Watching it get sucked in, Carn’s voice shot up in shock, startling the two masked men beside him.
“Pain… he died from pain?!”
The slimmer masked man steadied his breath. “What? How does pain kill?”
Carn explained gravely, “His soul was claimed—the contract demon deemed him incapable of fulfilling the pact.”
“But the Dark Duel only amplifies pain; it can’t inflict real physical harm.”
“So he must’ve died purely from the agony.”
They recalled the rules: earlier bloodshed was illusory. Summoning a follower shouldn’t cost a life.
“Dying from pain… what a humiliating end.”
Sixteen damage in one punch—surely worse than every bone shattering.
As the crowd shook their heads in pity, Simon muttered under his breath:
“Tch… only one dead?”
Everyone turned with horrified expressions.
What a chaotic evil remark!
You’ve got “demon” tattooed on your back, huh!
Simon ignored them, gaze fixed on Anya—her chest still rising faintly.
Logically, the vampire lady hadn’t time to play other cards. Yet the Ghoul Colossus remained, her life points showing four. The duel wasn’t over.
“Uh… you three. Masked brothers.”
Glancing at the hooded figures, Simon nearly said “terrorists.”
“Why hasn’t the duel ended?”
Confused stares met him.
“Vampire Grade C Duelists start with twenty life points. Didn’t you know?”
“Twenty?!” Simon’s pointing hand froze. “What absurd rule is that?”
“Huh? Normal, right?” Carn spread his hands. “If you dueled a dragon, would you expect it to have ten life points too?”
Even Tidris blinked. “Sir Shopkeeper, it’s common knowledge—races have different life caps.”
“Com—never mind if it’s common or not.” Simon sighed. “Why didn’t I notice her starting life?”
“You missed it? She likely used mild charm on you.”
Seeing Simon’s confusion, Carn added seriously, “Same Grade C tier—even with your life barrier, subtle mental suggestion isn’t hard for her.”
“Why cram such complex fantasy lore into a card-playing world?!” Simon finally snapped.
“Whatever. We’ll sort it later.” He waved a hand dismissively.
“Leftover life points? One punch wasn’t enough—time for two! Ghoul Colossus! Divine Fist Shat—"
“WAIT! You’re gonna flatten the Duel Academy’s rear mountain?!”
Beneath his white hood, Carn broke into a cold sweat, shouting to stop him.
He wasn’t alone.
Anya, feigning unconsciousness, shot upright, transformed into a bat, and took flight.
Simultaneously, the Dark Duel arena vanished. The Ghoul Colossus dissolved back into Simon’s deck before the second strike landed.
“Huh? Duel’s over?”
Tidris felt the shoulder pain vanish—glancing down, the illusory wound had healed.
Carn, slow to react, finally realized: “Xever died! The demon got the soul offering—Dark Duel terminated mid-match!”
“That demon’s got zero professionalism! A notary who runs off after payment?!” Simon grumbled. Denied his catharsis, he slid down the crater after the bat.
“Wah-wah-wah! Sir Shopkeeper, wait for me!”
Tidelys leaped from the rim, landing lightly on his back.
Anya fluttered unsteadily, nearly crashing from wing agony. Glancing back at her pursuers, terror seized her—she sped upward.
*This Cardmaker’s sinister! Hid his Grade C rank just to lure victims!*
*His rules… those two cards… must report to the Progenitor…*
A fresh jolt of pain twisted her left wing. She tumbled sideways.
Before she could recover, an icy chill seized her.
“Meow!”
An orange blur flashed—midair interception complete.
“The hero’s here!” Tidelys pumped a fist.
“Well done, Bread!”
“Purrr…”
Bread padded over, bat held gently by the wing root. Tidelys rewarded him with vigorous head rubs.
Simon stretched, scratching Bread’s head with a lazy smile.
“Time to go reward our MVP.”
