To Gavalich, it felt just like the moment they had first been teleported into the tournament.
A blinding light filled his vision.
For a brief moment, he couldn't see anything.
One second, he had been standing inside the ruined building with Alex and Rhyssa.
The next, the light faded.
He found himself lying in the exact same position as before.
Only now, his surroundings had completely changed.
The place was familiar.
It was the open field of the colosseum.
Across the massive arena, countless spectators filled the stands.
Cheers echoed from every direction, shaking the air.
Gavalich didn't need to guess.
None of those cheers were for him.
He slowly looked around.
Several other clans had already appeared on the field.
They were all clans that had been eliminated from the tournament.
It was obvious now.
The number of remaining participants had dropped dramatically.
Most of the competing clans were already out.
The condition of those around him varied greatly.
Some fighters were covered in blood.
Some were missing limbs.
Others were badly wounded, barely able to stand.
A few simply sat on the ground, exhausted after pushing themselves beyond their limits.
And some...
Never opened their eyes again.
The atmosphere was heavy.
Cold.
Silent despite the roaring crowd above.
Death stares crossed the field from one clan to another.
Hatred lingered in the air.
It was impossible to count how many hostile gazes were being exchanged.
The meaning behind those looks was obvious.
Every eliminated clan had left the tournament carrying fresh grudges against the clans that had defeated them.
Yet, despite the hatred filling the arena, not a single clan made a move against another.
There was a reason for that.
All around them stood guards.
They were powerful, intimidating figures dressed like traditional Roman knights.
Heavy armor covered their bodies, while their faces remained completely hidden beneath enclosed helmets.
Not a single expression could be seen.
Then there were the medics.
Individuals who specialized in healing magic moved from one injured participant to another, treating wounds with remarkable speed and precision.
They wore long white robes.
Like the guards, their faces were also concealed behind masks.
Everything had been arranged by the tournament organizers.
Order.
Security.
Medical treatment.
Nothing had been left to chance.
Before long, one of the healers approached Gavalich.
Without saying a word, the healer knelt beside him and began treating his injuries.
A warm energy flowed through Gavalich's body.
The pain slowly began to fade.
As the healing continued, the masked healer finally spoke.
"I am aware of your losses. My condolences," the calm voice behind the mask said.
Gavalich frowned.
The statement confused him.
He didn't understand what the healer meant.
Before he could ask, the last of his injuries disappeared.
The aching pain throughout his body was completely gone.
The healer rose to his feet without another word.
His job was finished.
He turned and began to walk away.
"Wait..." Gavalich called out as he quickly reached forward and grabbed the healer's wrist.
Almost instantly—
A guard appeared in front of him.
The armored figure moved so fast that Gavalich hadn't even seen him approach.
"Let go of the doctor. Now!" the guard commanded in a deep, intimidating voice.
The guard's voice was powerful enough that everyone nearby instinctively stepped back.
Even Gavalich released the healer's wrist without saying another word.
The healer gave a slight nod before calmly walking away to treat the next injured participant.
But Gavalich barely noticed.
His mind was still fixed on the healer's words.
'I am aware of your losses. My condolences.'
Those words echoed over and over in his head.
'What did he mean by that?' Gavalich wondered.
A strange sense of unease settled deep in his chest.
He slowly pushed himself to his feet.
His injuries were gone, but the uneasy feeling remained.
'Since I'm out... Jimmy should be somewhere around here,' he thought.
He began scanning the area.
It didn't take long before he found the person he was looking for.
Jimmy was kneeling on the ground.
His back was facing Gavalich.
His shoulders trembled violently as they rose and fell over and over.
Seeing that, Gavalich frowned.
Something wasn't right.
He slowly walked toward him.
"Hey, Jimmy... why are you...?"
The words caught in Gavalich's throat.
His eyes fell upon the body lying on the ground before Jimmy.
It was Henry.
Or rather...
Henry's headless body.
Jimmy knelt over the corpse, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face.
His entire body shook with grief.
For a brief moment, Gavalich's mind went completely blank.
He simply stared.
Unable to believe what he was seeing.
Then reality crashed into him.
"No... No... Nooo!" Gavalich screamed.
---
Meanwhile, inside the Ztheu, Henry's death threw the Wyndhams into complete chaos.
The compressed air sphere he had prepared against the Raikovar slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
There was no one left to control it.
The instant it hit the ground—
Boom!
It detonated.
The explosion was devastating.
No one escaped its blast radius.
The violent shockwave swept through the entire building, striking everyone without discrimination.
Even the Raikovar warriors were hurled backward.
Bang!
Their bodies slammed hard into the walls.
The building couldn't withstand the force.
Walls cracked.
Support beams splintered.
The entire structure burst apart into countless pieces of debris.
Dust and shattered concrete filled the air, swallowing everything from sight.
For several moments...
There was nothing.
Only silence.
Then—
"Cough... cough!"
"Cough... cough! Cough!"
The sounds of coughing gradually echoed through the thick cloud of dust.
As the dust slowly began to settle, a figure pushed himself out from beneath the rubble.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He forced himself to his feet.
His entire body was covered in bruises.
Blood streamed down from a deep wound on his head, flowing across his face and dripping onto the broken ground below.
That wasn't all.
Several joints throughout his body had clearly been broken by the explosion.
Even so, he ignored the pain.
He remained standing.
It was Clifford.
One of his eyes had swollen nearly shut, while the blood covering his face blurred his vision, making it difficult to see what remained of the battlefield.
Regardless, he didn't look like someone who was in pain.
Despite his swollen eyes and blood-covered face, he continued scanning his surroundings, trying to make out the shapes through his blurred vision.
'I... I survived that because of the ring,' he thought.
Thanks to the Pain-Numbing Ring, Clifford was still standing.
The ring had dulled the overwhelming pain coursing through his body.
Its other ability was already taking effect as well.
The deep wound on his head was slowly closing, and the bleeding had begun to lessen.
Still, Clifford wasn't worried about himself.
His concern was elsewhere.
'Will the others be okay?' he wondered.
"Cough...!"
A sudden cough echoed through the ruined building.
It came from somewhere in the distance.
Clifford immediately turned toward the sound.
Without hesitation, he staggered forward.
Every step sent pain through his battered body, but he ignored it.
He climbed over broken concrete, twisted steel, and piles of shattered debris.
Pieces of the collapsed building blocked his path, forcing him to carefully make his way through the ruins.
Finally, he reached the source.
Clifford froze.
A large slab of concrete rested across someone's body.
The figure beneath it was bruised from head to toe and soaked in blood.
Small patches of gray fur still covered parts of his skin.
But they were slowly receding.
Returning to human flesh.
"Zephyr!" Clifford shouted as he rushed over.
Zephyr was in a terrible state.
His body was so battered that he was barely recognizable.
Even so...
He was still alive.
Clifford frowned.
At first, he couldn't understand why the tournament hadn't eliminated him in such critical condition.
Without wasting another second, Clifford grabbed the massive slab of concrete.
With all his strength, he lifted it away before pulling the remaining debris off Zephyr's body.
The rubble was heavy, but it wasn't enough to stop him.
Within moments, Zephyr was completely freed.
He lay flat on the broken ground, breathing heavily.
Faint patches of fur still clung stubbornly to his body.
"You have to end this," Clifford said urgently.
"Stop forcing your transformation. We've already achieved a lot in this tournament. We can quit. You have to quit the tournament now."
After taking a closer look, Clifford finally understood.
Zephyr wasn't still in the tournament because his injuries weren't severe enough.
He was forcing his transformation to remain active.
As long as the werewolf transformation continued, the tournament wouldn't judge all of his injuries as critical enough for elimination.
But Clifford's sensitivity to energy allowed him to see something even more alarming.
Zephyr's Qi reserves were almost empty.
He had pushed himself beyond his limits.
Worse, he was beginning to draw upon a far more dangerous source of power.
His life force.
"We can't..." Zephyr said between ragged breaths.
"We can't now. We are close to winning."