BXBX NOVEL Chapter 763 Warm-Up
Chapter 763 Warm-Up
"It seems I overloaded it with more mana than it could handle," he mused quietly to himself.
The weapon had been a specially crafted magic gun—an attempt to allow him to use magic in conventional forms, much like his wife did. His own magic abilities were limited to rune-based applications, and he had wanted to avoid relying on them for this fight. The gun\'s intricate design had combined several magic cycles into a single, complex magic circle: a fire cycle to create destructive energy, a compression cycle to concentrate it, a flight cycle for propulsion, and a friction reduction cycle to minimize resistance. The result was a bullet whose power scaled directly with the amount of mana infused. Unfortunately, it seemed the amount he poured in was too much for the weapon to endure.
Brushing the lingering dust off his hands with a casual clap, Aron looked unbothered, as if the weapon\'s destruction had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He activated the flight system embedded in his armor, hovering off the ground with ease, and flew toward the center of the dissipating cloud. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
It didn’t take long for him to reach the site where the Venora fighter had been moments before. The aftermath was grim. Although the Venora’s armor had held up remarkably well under the blast, shielding parts of the body from complete vaporization, it had ultimately failed to save its occupant. All that remained inside the scorched armor was what could only be described as burned paste—barely recognizable as anything once living.
Aron hovered silently for a moment, inspecting the remnants. Though the Venora’s fighters had the ability for both their bodies and minds to adapt to the situation, it was clear that no amount of adaptation would have saved the fighter from a strike that potent.
Not wasting much time thinking about it he started collecting remnants of the Venora fighter\'s corpse and gear, the Colosseum\'s automated systems whirred to life, sweeping away debris and resetting the battlefield for the next encounter.
Suddenly, the referee AI’s voice echoed through the arena:
{The Venora civilization has lodged a formal contest, alleging suspicious use of a banned weapon by the Terran Empire’s fighter. The situation is now under review.}
Aron halted, lifting his gaze toward the AI’s holographic projection with a deep frown. The protest was no surprise—he knew that defeat in this contest meant significant losses for the Venora civilization. Still, starting with such accusations right after the first battle was an ominous sign.
Not a great start for this agreement, he thought grimly, crossing his arms.
The AI, indifferent to his reaction, generated a colossal holographic screen in the center of the arena, replaying the match from start to finish. The footage, captured from multiple sensor arrays, was now displayed in slow motion and through a transparent spectrum that made every object semi-see-through. It gave the audience a comprehensive 3D reconstruction, revealing the internal workings of every piece of equipment.
The camera zoomed in on the magic gun Aron had used. Its intricate magic cycles—scrambled by design to protect proprietary technology—were displayed in detail. The feed showed mana being channeled into the gun, compressed, and propelled forward in a lightning-fast shot. The bullet reached the Venora fighter in under two seconds, resulting in the massive explosion.
After a brief pause, the AI delivered its verdict:
{No evidence of the use of a banned weapon has been found. The initial decision holds.}
The holographic display dissolved, and the AI reappeared before Aron, its expressionless figure addressing him directly:
{Would you like to use your break period, or shall we proceed to the next fight?}
Without missing a beat, Aron gave a slight shrug and responded with calm determination. "The faster I deal with this, the better—so, please."
The AI gave a brief nod of acknowledgment before making the arena’s shields ripple open.
{As you wish. May the next contender enter.}
As the ship carrying the next fighter entered, a separate container followed along a different path, gliding smoothly through the arena’s shield. The container continued its course toward Aron, landing with a metallic thud in front of him. With a soft hiss, it unlocked and opened, revealing an array of weapons identical to the one he had used in his previous fight.
Aron placed the collected materials and organic remains into the container, then reached inside to select the same model of gun. As soon as he was done, the container shut itself with a mechanical snap and ascended, leaving the arena just as the ship carrying the next challenger did.
………..
{Match over. Winner: Terran Empire, Aron Michael.}
{Match over. Winner: Terran Empire, Aron Michael.}
{Match over. Winner: Terran Empire, Aron Michael.}
The same announcement echoed after each contender from a different civilization entered the arena to face Aron. Despite having the opportunity to study his strategy, Aron remained consistent with the same fighting style he had used against the first opponent. Each successive fighter tried to devise a countermeasure to avoid being eliminated within seconds—but all failed spectacularly.
Aron adapted effortlessly, increasing the mana input for each subsequent shot. The second, third, and fourth challengers met the same fate, with the fourth fighter suffering the most devastating blow yet—a bullet explosion four times more powerful than the one that annihilated the Venora contender.
To say the Conclave viewers were surprised would be an understatement, as many sat with their jaws slack in disbelief. The fights had been so brief that their total duration, even when combined, didn’t surpass a minute—shorter than the preparation periods themselves. The empire\'s contender was undeniably powerful, showcasing overwhelming force in every bout.
However, despite the impressive victories, not a single spectator entertained the idea that the Terran Empire would triumph overall. The power Aron displayed was unexpected, but the real challenge still lay ahead. The remaining eleven civilizations represented the top ten in the Conclave, and they were in a different league entirely. While these advanced civilizations occasionally sold their technologies to others, their most sophisticated weapons remained exclusively in their hands, tailored perfectly to the unique physiology and skills of their respective races. These race-specific weapons gave their wielders an edge no outsider could hope to match.
The warm-up was over—now, the real battle was about to begin.