The battle in Block B had been fierce, nearly rivaling the intensity of Blocks A. Under the cunning strategies of the tactician Dagama, a wall of competitors acting like a disciplined military force successfully protected King Elizabello II while he completed the long charge for his "King Punch."
When that fist finally launched, an unparalleled, terrifying power erupted. The resulting shockwave and explosion, accompanied by a blinding flash reminiscent of a nuclear detonation, rippled outward. Plumes of dust and a horrific gale swept the arena, instantly clearing the ring of almost every contestant.
Just as the crowd moved to hail Elizabello II as the victor, and while Vito and the others marveled at how the Corrida Colosseum's walls held against such power, a single figure emerged from the settling dust.
It was Bartolomeo!
As a paramecia-type Barrier-Barrier Fruit user, he possessed the ability to manifest transparent protective shields, a form of "absolute defense." By utilizing this incredibly resilient barrier, he had easily withstood the "King Punch" that had otherwise decimated the competition.
It was the classic struggle of the ultimate spear against the ultimate shield. Elizabello II's piercing spear had broken against Bartolomeo's bulwark. Furthermore, the "family heirloom" punch could only be "unsheathed" once per battle, and it had been spent.
His stamina nearly depleted, Elizabello II was left with no strength to fight back. Bartolomeo ended the match with a single "Barrier Crash," leaving the King bloodied and unconscious.
The battle concluded in a highly dramatic fashion. Many had bet on the favorite Bellamy, others on the Longleg Blue Gilly, and many on the "Fighting King" himself, but not a single soul had rooted for Bartolomeo. Consequently, the man the audience despised most became the victor of Block B, securing his ticket to the finals.
"What a staggering punch..."
Vito was still playing back that incomparable strike in his mind. A heavy blow of that caliber would have floored even him.
"To have an ability that can block that... Bartolomeo might have a trash reputation, but he's got real teeth," Cavendish remarked, surprised.
Hearing his companion, Vito laughed heartily. "Hahaha! Exactly! I'm taking a real liking to this guy."
It wasn't just Vito and Cavendish; the remaining contestants were all buzzing about Bartolomeo. The victors of both Blocks A and B had been total wildcards.
Due to the destruction caused by the King Punch, the arena was in even worse shape than after the first round. The maintenance crew was working overtime to repair the stone.
"Alright! The third round, Block C, will commence the moment repairs are finished!"
"All participants, please gather at the entrance!"
"Repeat: Block C contestants, report to the gate!"
While the stage was being mended, Gatz kept the hype alive by introducing the upcoming fighters.
There was the V2 Champion of the New World's "Central Fighting Tournament," the Longarm Tribe XXX-Grade Boxer—"Destruction Cannon" Ideo!
The brutal assassins capable of taking down pirates with bounties over a hundred million—the Funk Brothers!
The warrior from the distant land of giants, Elbaf; the powerful mercenary pirate—Hajrudin!
And the Bandit, Jean Ango. A bounty hunter who had offended nearly every major pirate in the New World, he was known for using cruel methods to corner his prey once he set his sights on them.
Even more bizarre was a bull known as the "Colosseum Grim Reaper," hailed as the Brutal Bull.
Finally, the seeded players from the Kano Kingdom: Sai and Boo of the Happo Navy.
Of course, to the elites, these were merely secondary players. The real main event was the last man: the Obsidian Archbishop of the Church of the Night, Horkheimer Max. He was the man Vito and Cavendish wanted to encounter, and kill, most in this tournament.
Soon, the ring was restored, and the Block C gladiators filed in.
Ding—!
The sharp ring of the bell echoed, and the melee exploded.
"Finally. My patience was wearing thin," Max said, his handsome face devoid of emotion. He stood in the center of the ring, a two-meter Obsidian Scepter in hand. His waist-length golden hair and his black-and-white priestly vestments fluttered in the wind.
"Die, Max!"
"Before we get the Flame-Flame Fruit, we're claiming the 600 million on Chris's crew!"
A dozen greedy eyes locked onto him. Weapons raised, they charged at him with murderous intent.
"Greedy sinners deserve no sanctuary under the Goddess of the Night," Max said softly.
He raised his arm, swinging the Obsidian Scepter with such speed that it blurred into three distinct afterimages.
Night Secret Art: Dance of the Night Shadows!
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
In an instant, each afterimage struck a charging contestant. Amidst a flurry of dull thuds, the dozen attackers were sent flying simultaneously, their chests caving in as they coughed up blood.
"Look at that! As expected of the Archbishop of the Church of the Night! He's taken down over ten opponents in a single breath! I couldn't even see how he moved!" Gatz shouted excitedly, his voice booming through the venue.
More contestants rushed Max, but regardless of who they were, they were easily swatted away by his overwhelming strength. Within moments, more than forty participants lay unconscious around him.
Whish! Whish! Whish!
Suddenly, the air whistled as three blades flew toward him at high speed.
"Hm?"
Max glanced sideways, casually tilting his body to evade the incoming steel.
A man carrying an armful of weapons approached. He had a long forehead, a cactus-styled hat, and a green chin guard.
"'Bandit' Jean Ango, I see you've set your sights on me as well," Max said tonelessly.
"Can't help it. The 600-million-Berry bounty on the Chris Pirates can be cashed in with the Navy or the Government now," Jean Ango said, looking at Max with a grim intensity.
That was 600 million Berries! Even if he didn't get the Flame-Flame Fruit, walking away with that kind of gold made the trip worthwhile.
"Greed. One of the Seven Sins," Max stared at him, his voice dropping an octave. "A cardinal sin in the eyes of the Goddess. You are fit only for burial in the light of day, for the Night will not have you."
"Shut up with that nonsense! I'm the one burying you! Die!" Jean Ango roared, hurling dozens of weapons from his bundle in rapid succession.
Zip, zip, zip, zip!
A series of shrill whistles rang out as each weapon pierced the air, aiming straight for Max's vitals.
"Pathetic toys."
Max's lips curled into a disdainful smirk. In the next heartbeat, his body blurred. he weaved through the hailstorm of flying steel, dodging every blade so perfectly that not even a single thread of his ornate vestments was nicked.
"Curse you! Why can't I hit him?!"
"RAAAAGH!"
Jean Ango's arms became a blur, his throwing speed increasing until he looked like he had multiple limbs. He emptied his arsenal at Max, but not a single piece of cold steel found its mark. As his supply dwindled, Jean Ango grew increasingly frantic.
"Enough."
Growing bored of the one-sided assault, Max suddenly lunged forward. The Obsidian Scepter lashed out like a streak of black shadow.
Night Secret Art: Night Hawk!
CRACK—!
A dull thud echoed as a gust of wind exploded outward. Jean Ango's sternum shattered, his chest collapsing inward. He coughed up a spray of blood and was sent hurtling out of the ring.
BOOM!
With a heavy impact, he slammed into the stone wall beneath the spectator stands, leaving a crater in the masonry.
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