Masayuki suddenly announced his own defeat after Gobta's clear self-induced knockout.
"What's this guy thinking?" Benimaru asked, brows furrowed.
Shion folded her arms, confused. "Uh—no idea. There's no way he'd actually be afraid of Gobta, right? Could he have some other motive?"
Benimaru and Shion exchanged glances as they watched Masayuki leave the stage. The whole situation made no sense.
"Was this kid bluffing?" Shion muttered. "Or does he have some other plan?"
Even Atem, seated high upon his obsidian throne, resting one arm on its carved jackal armrest, regarded the scene with quiet intrigue. The golden Eye of Horus faintly glowed upon his forehead as he observed the boy's retreat. The Pharaoh's gaze carried divine authority—an unseen weight that made even his subordinates lower their heads when it turned toward them.
The spectators were equally bewildered. Murmurs rippled through the coliseum.
"…Does he plan to hide his true strength in front of His Majesty, Pharaoh Atem?"
"No, no, he did just use that unbelievable 'Shadowless Body Slam' technique!"
"But didn't he say he failed to see through the attack?"
"Yet he doesn't even have a scratch!"
"No, look closely—there's a mark on his cheek!"
"What?! You mean Pharaoh Atem's chosen warrior was wounded?!"
The noise swelled into a storm of chatter and speculation.
"I see, I finally understand!" one man shouted, raising his fist. "Masayuki-sama must be giving Pharaoh Atem time to decide!"
"What do you mean?" someone else asked.
"Don't you remember? His Majesty said he wanted to bring peace to this world, to let humans and majin coexist under his rule!"
"That's true!"
"Of course, we all know that!"
"With that being the case," the man continued with smug confidence, "Masayuki-sama must be testing Pharaoh Atem! He's showing restraint—to warn the Pharaoh that the heroes will not sit idly by should he stray from his path!"
The crowd gasped in collective awe.
"That makes sense!"
"Yes, yes! That explains why he didn't even draw his sword!"
"He must have wanted to say that he could have won this tournament any time he wanted!"
"A warning to the Pharaoh himself!"
"And yet he spared His Majesty's pride! Such humility!"
"He doesn't even care about his reputation… He's a true hero!"
The audience began to chant.
"MA-SA-YU-KI! MA-SA-YU-KI! MA-SA-YU-KI!"
Masayuki's steps faltered as he left the arena.
Why are they chanting my name?! His face twitched. This is insane! What kind of cult did I just start?!
He raised an arm stiffly in acknowledgment, his body moving awkwardly like a puppet. The people roared louder in response, worshipping a misunderstanding.
From the throne above, Atem's eyes gleamed like molten gold. His voice echoed softly but carried over the entire coliseum without effort.
"Interesting," Atem murmured. "The boy twists perception itself… even truth bends before him."
A divine echo answered within his mind—Solarys, the Sovereign of Wisdom.
Indeed, my Pharaoh. It appears the human wields a Unique Skill that manipulates the minds and emotions of those around him.
Atem's gaze sharpened. "So that is the trick. A false hero bathed in divine favor."
Even so, Solarys continued, his influence could be of use. The masses already adore him.
Atem leaned back against his throne, expression unreadable. "Then he shall be watched. There is value in one who commands hearts without force."
Down below, Benimaru rubbed his head. "I don't get it. He loses, yet everyone's acting like he just saved the world."
Shion pouted. "Maybe he's just lucky. Or cursed."
Atem's golden eyes briefly shifted toward them. "Luck is merely divine design wearing a mortal mask," he said, voice calm yet absolute. Both of them bowed immediately, feeling the weight of his presence press on their souls.
The Pharaoh rose from his throne, his crimson cape flowing like liquid fire. The golden hieroglyphs across the stone floor flared to life beneath his feet. His aura—ancient, commanding, unstoppable—filled the air. Even silence bowed to him.
"Souei," Atem commanded.
A black mist appeared beside him as Souei knelt. "Yes, my Pharaoh?"
"Send word to the human, Masayuki. I will see him tomorrow at the Hall of Judgment. Tell him to dine with me after the audience."
Souei bowed deeply. "As you command." He vanished into the shadows.
Benimaru raised a brow. "You plan to meet him personally, my Pharaoh?"
Atem smiled faintly, the kind of smile that could calm kings or destroy empires. "Yes. I wish to see how far mortal arrogance stretches before divine eyes."
"Understood," Benimaru replied with a respectful nod.
As the Pharaoh's attention turned elsewhere, Gobta began to stir on the arena floor. Diablo, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. Souka knelt beside Gobta and called out, "Contestant Gobta, are you awake?"
Gobta groaned. "Ugh… Did I win?"
Souka smiled gently. "Indeed. Although there were some… unexpected developments, due to Masayuki's forfeit, the victor of the tournament is Gobta!"
The crowd's reaction was mixed—some confused, others cheering wildly. Still, with Atem presiding, no one dared to protest the outcome.
Atem descended from his throne, his divine aura dimming slightly so as not to crush the mortals below. Every step resonated like thunder.
He stopped before the finalists, his eyes scanning them—Benimaru, Shion, Diablo, Souka, Gobta—each of them dropping to one knee instinctively.
"Well fought," Atem declared, his voice both regal and commanding. "Every blow struck today honored Eterna. You have proven your will before the eyes of the Pharaoh."
Gobta trembled. "T-thank you, my Pharaoh!"
Atem studied him for a moment, then smirked. "Gobta of the Shadow Fang Tribe… as promised, I appoint you as one of my Four Heavenly Kings. Serve me faithfully, and your name shall echo through eternity."
Gobta's eyes widened. "R-really?! Me?!"
Benimaru sighed quietly. "I still can't believe this."
Shion covered her mouth to hide her laughter. "The weakest of the Heavenly Kings… this will be fun."
Atem chuckled softly, the sound deep and resonant. "Even the weakest may rise when they carry my will."
The coliseum erupted into applause. Atem turned his gaze skyward, his aura returning to calm divinity as the tournament came to an end.
And thus, the First Eterna Martial Tournament concluded beneath the gaze of Pharaoh Atem—the god who ruled mortals not through fear alone, but through the undeniable weight of his authority and the allure of his power.
Gobta's personal nightmare had only just begun.
"Are you finished yet? Hand him over! We need to train!" Milim barked as she returned to the VIP booth, her sharp smile flashing with unrestrained energy.
I turned toward her, feeling the air tremble slightly from her enthusiasm. "Milim, remember to hold back a little," I warned, my voice calm yet firm — the kind of tone that made even seasoned warriors stop and listen.
She waved her hand dismissively. "Relax, Atem! We'll be in the Labyrinth. He'll be resurrected after death!"
Her smile widened, but there was no warmth behind it. It was the grin of a predator.
…That's supposed to be reassuring? I thought dryly, watching poor Gobta shrink beneath her stare. Resurrection or not, what awaited him wasn't training — it was divine punishment.
"Gobta," Milim said as she approached him, her voice deceptively cheerful. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?"
Before he could even react, she lifted him by the collar with one hand.
"W-Wait! AHHHH!" he squealed, dangling like a rag doll.
Milim's grip was merciless — her fingers locked around his uniform like the jaws of a beast. Her expression was still a smile, but her eyes radiated danger.
"I'll congratulate you on your victory," she said coldly, "but it looked so lame that I can't approve of it. That's why…" She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I'm going to train you myself."
Her aura flared for a brief moment — just enough for the entire audience to feel it. The temperature in the air spiked. Even the sunlight seemed to retreat in fear.
Gobta went pale. "M-Milim-sama! I—I never asked you to—"
"Quiet!" she snapped, her tone as sharp as a blade. "You abused my excitement! You made me cheer, only to make me disappointed! You will make up for it with training!"
Ah… yes. There it was. I could practically hear her rage roaring like a dragon's breath.
Hakurou, standing nearby, nodded approvingly. "Gobta, this is a rare opportunity. Train hard with Milim-sama."
Gobta turned to him with a desperate expression. "M-Mentor! You sold me out!"
"Silence!"
Milim's fist came down on his head faster than lightning, silencing him with a thud.
I sighed, rubbing my temple. Brutal as always.
Hakurou chuckled. "Hehehe, come now, Gobta. Don't say something like that — people might misunderstand. This is all for your own good."
Gobta groaned in pain, barely able to move. But it was obvious that Hakurou's "encouragement" was less for Gobta's benefit and more for his own satisfaction. After all, Gobta had embarrassed him earlier in front of Momiji. This was his way of… balancing the scales.
And so, without another word, Gobta was hauled off by Milim like a prisoner being dragged to execution.
But then—
"My master!" Ranga appeared out of nowhere, tail wagging proudly. "I have aided Gobta-san in achieving victory with style!"
I turned to him slowly, one eyebrow raised. "You abandoned him the moment the match ended, didn't you?"
Ranga's ears twitched nervously. "…I-I was merely giving him space to celebrate, my Pharaoh!"
Before I could even reply, Milim's head turned toward him with a chilling smile. "Hold on… You're the one called Ranga, right? Perfect! Without you, Gobta's training won't be complete!"
Ranga froze. "…!"
His tail lowered, his proud posture crumbling into sheer dread.
Sorry, Ranga, I thought, folding my arms. When Milim decides on something, there's no changing her mind.
Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, spoke softly in my mind.
"Pharaoh Atem, statistical outcome: 99.8% chance both will perish repeatedly."
"Thank you, Solarys," I murmured. "Your optimism is noted."
Milim threw her arms around both of them — one dragon wolf and one trembling goblin — and laughed thunderously. "WAHAHAHA! Don't be so scared! I'm not gonna hurt you… just break you down and rebuild you stronger!"
That somehow made it worse.
As she dragged them both toward the Labyrinth's entrance, I watched quietly. Gobta had always relied too much on luck, while Ranga leaned on instinct. If the two truly learned to synchronize under Milim's ruthless training, their transformation could reach an entirely new level.
Milim must have sensed that potential. Her desire to train them came not from cruelty, but from seeing what they could become.
Still… may the gods have mercy on their souls.
I clasped my hands behind my back and watched as their figures disappeared into the distance. "So long, Gobta. So long, Ranga," I said solemnly, my voice carrying through the wind.
"I shall remember your courage—and your screams."
Rest in peace in the other world.