The word hadn't even finished echoing before the carnage started.

The injured participants—those who'd received no healing, who'd been hoping desperately for some miracle—faced their abyssal opponents with weapons that felt like toys.

The first to die was the man closest to where someone had stepped outside their platform. His beast was a wolf-like creature with too many eyes. It moved with blinding speed, and the man's injured leg couldn't support the dodge he attempted.

Claws tore through his chest. Blood sprayed. He fell.

Another fighter—a woman with a broken arm poorly bound—tried to defend herself one-handed against a serpent with venomous fangs. She lasted maybe fifteen seconds before the poison took her, body convulsing as the toxin shut down her nervous system.

A third man, wounded but still fighting, managed to land several good hits on his creature before exhaustion caught up with him. His guard dropped for just a moment. His opponent didn't need longer than that.

One by one, the critically injured fell. Ripped apart. Poisoned. Crushed. Devoured.

It was systematic slaughter, and everyone watching could only bear witness, horror etched into their faces as they realized this could be them. Any of them. At any moment.

'This is the tournament,' Akhil thought, forcing himself to watch despite wanting to look away. 'This is what we're facing. Not just strong opponents, but a system designed to break us. To make us watch our friends die. To crush hope and replace it with despair.'

On screen, the bodies were already being dragged away by those faceless attendants. The platforms were being cleaned, prepared for the next round, the next set of victims.

Cruel. Systematic. Efficient.

A reminder that this tournament truly was dreadful.

They were watching from relative safety for now, comfortable in knowing their numbers hadn't been called yet.

But they all knew—every single person staring at those screens—it could be them next.

Entertaining for the gods? Absolutely.

For the participants? For those watching and waiting for their turn?

It was a waking nightmare.

And there was no escape.

Jeren's laughter echoed across the arena, mixing with the screams of the dying and the roars of abyssal beasts.

The tournament ground on.

And the death toll continued to climb.

The arena had transformed from a combat zone into an abattoir.

Seth stared at the massive scorpion-creature before him, his blue-glowing eyes tracking every twitch of its multiple legs, every slight movement of that dripping stinger. The fore perception that had served him so well against the ninja was screaming warnings—but there were too many threats to track simultaneously.

The scorpion had eight different points of attack. Each leg could strike independently. The pincers could snap from multiple angles. And that stinger... the venom sizzling on stone promised a death far worse than being crushed.

'This isn't like fighting a person,' Seth thought, bouncing on his feet, trying to find an opening. 'No predictable patterns. No martial arts forms to counter. Just pure predatory instinct.'

The scorpion lunged.

Seth's fore perception gave him a split-second warning—enough to dive left as the stinger slammed into the stone where he'd been standing. The impact cracked the platform, venom eating into the rock with an audible hiss.

But the creature had anticipated his dodge. A pincer came in from the side, massive and fast, aiming to catch him mid-roll.

Seth twisted desperately, the pincer's edge scraping across his ribs hard enough to draw blood. Pain flared, but he pushed through it, coming up in a low stance, gauntleted fists raised.

He threw a testing jab at the creature's face—or what he assumed was its face, that cluster of black eyes above the mandibles. His fist connected with chitinous armor and it felt like punching concrete.

The scorpion barely flinched.

'Its armor is too thick,' Seth realized, backing away as multiple legs scuttled forward. 'Normal strikes won't work. I need more power.'

The stinger came again—a thrust so fast it was almost invisible. Seth's fore perception screamed, and he managed to deflect it with his gauntlet. The impact sent him sliding backward, his arm going numb from the force.

The creature pressed its advantage, all eight legs moving in concert, pincers snapping, stinger seeking vulnerable flesh. Seth found himself purely defensive, dodging and blocking, unable to create any opening for a counter.

A leg swept his own feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and the stinger descended like divine judgment.

Seth rolled desperately. The stinger punched into stone inches from his head. He scrambled away, but a pincer caught his shoulder, lifting him off the ground.

Pain exploded through him as the pressure increased, threatening to crush bone. The scorpion pulled him closer, mandibles opening wide, ready to bite his head clean off.

'No choice,' Seth thought, his free hand moving to his inventory even as his body protested the movement. 'Have to use it now.'

**{GIFT ACTIVATED: DRAGON - MANIFESTATION OF THE GOD OF FLAMES}**

Divine power flooded through Seth's body like liquid fire. His eyes blazed from blue to brilliant gold, flames erupting from his skin in waves of searing heat. The transformation was instantaneous and overwhelming.

The pincer holding him suddenly couldn't maintain its grip—the heat was too intense. Seth dropped free, landing in a crouch as flames danced across his gauntleted fists.

The scorpion sensed the change immediately, its predatory instincts recognizing a threat. It lunged again, all weapons brought to bear.

But Seth was no longer just human.

He moved with speed that shouldn't have been possible, flames trailing behind him. His fist connected with the scorpion's chitinous armor, and this time the impact was catastrophic. The shell cracked, superheated until it became brittle, shattering under the force.

The creature shrieked—a sound like metal tearing. It tried to retreat, but Seth didn't give it space. He was inside its guard now, both fists working in furious combination, each strike wreathed in divine flames that melted through armor and flesh alike.

A pincer came at him. Seth caught it with both hands and pulled, channeling all the divine strength into his arms. The pincer tore free from the creature's body with a sickening crack.

The stinger descended in a desperate final attack. Seth's fore perception saw it coming, but enhanced by divine power, his reaction was perfect. He sidestepped, grabbed the segmented tail, and with a roar that carried the God of Flames' fury, he ripped the entire stinger assembly free.

The scorpion collapsed, ichor pouring from catastrophic wounds, its movements becoming sluggish as life left it.

Seth stood over the dying creature, flames still dancing across his body, breathing hard but victorious. The divine power was already beginning to fade—manifestation gifts didn't last long, maybe thirty seconds of borrowed godhood.

But it had been enough.

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