The instant Elius's five swords lifted into the air, forming a loose spiral around him, he made a decision.
He didn't want a messy fight.
Bloodshed was fine.
Violence? He could live with it.
But wasting energy on a creature so brutish, so emotionally unstable, felt beneath him.
Elius lightly stepped onto one of his floating swords, his balance effortless, almost casual.
The blade barely dipped under his weight before stabilizing, carrying him slowly upward into the air like an ancient cultivator from forgotten myths.
The arena lights glinted off his white uniform, and the wind stirred his hair, making him look ethereal—untouchable.
Below him, the hippopotamus man—the so-called King of Beasts—bellowed furiously, stamping the ground, causing micro-tremors with each heavy step.
The mechanical female voice calmly spoke again:
> "Combat begins."
Elius crossed his arms, standing atop his sword as if he were simply on a balcony overlooking a pathetic show.
