I Awakened The SSS Class Abyssal Warlord

Damien raised his arm, his fingers curling as if gripping reality itself.

BOOM!

A black sphere erupted where Oliver had stood a second ago, consuming the space in an instant before collapsing inward.

But Oliver was already gone.

WHOOSH!

He blurred across the battlefield, movements impossibly precise—but not effortless.

Because Damien wasn't stopping.

BOOM!

Another Null Collapse.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Again.

And again.

Each time, the ground warped and vanished under the force of Damien's skill, leaving deep craters in the arena.

Oliver dodged by a hair's breadth every time, his body twisting, flipping, and weaving between the death traps.

It was relentless.

And the worst part?

Damien wasn't tiring.

The artifact—the Abyss Heart—had pushed his stamina to monstrous levels.

He could keep this up all day.

And he knew it.

Damien sneered. "Stay still, damn you!"

Another Null Collapse nearly caught Oliver's shoulder—he twisted away just in time.

Damien gritted his teeth, frustration bleeding into his voice. "Stop running and let me kill you! You're getting in the way of my family!"

Oliver frowned. Family?

He had no idea what Damien was talking about.

But right now, that wasn't his concern.

He needed to get close.

He needed a way in.

Right now, Damien had the advantage—a near-infinite stamina pool, a deadly long-range skill, and zero hesitation to use it.

Meanwhile, Oliver was a close-range fighter with no ranged options.

Not an ideal matchup.

"Damn. I should've been a Ranger," Oliver thought bitterly.

Then he smirked. "Who needs to be a Ranger when you have... maximum effort?"

A plan formed in his mind.

And this time, he wasn't just going to dodge.

He was going in.

Damien was relentless, firing off Null Collapse after Null Collapse, each one barely missing Oliver.

The interval between each activation was small—but not nonexistent.

Oliver had been watching.

Waiting.

And just as Damien was about to fire off another—

Oliver threw his dagger with full force—straight for Damien's head.

WHISH!

Damien's instincts screamed at him.

He twisted at the last second—the blade missed its mark.

But that was exactly what Oliver wanted.

Because the moment Damien dodged—

Oliver was already there.

WHOOSH!

Oliver closed the gap instantly, his foot blurring towards Damien's ribs.

But Damien wasn't some rookie.

His sword flashed up, intercepting the attack.

CLANG!

Oliver was sent airborne, flipping through the air.

Damien's lips curled into a victorious grin.

"You're done."

Oliver was in the air—defenseless.

No weapon.

Nowhere to dodge.

No way to distract him again.

Or so Damien thought.

Because as he looked up—

A dagger buried itself straight into his eye.

"GRAAAAHH!"

Damien stumbled back, clutching his bleeding socket, his remaining eye wide in shock.

That wasn't Oliver's dagger.

That dagger belonged to Lina.

The system team function allowed synchronized communication, like telepathy between teammates.

And Oliver had used it.

The moment he started his plan, he had sent a message to Lina:

"Lina—I need your daggers."

She had been caught off guard, but only for a second.

Without hesitation, she had sent them through the team function.

And now, Oliver had three daggers.

One to distract Damien and close the gap.

One to take an eye—creating a blind spot.

And the last one—

It was for the finishing blow.

Oliver descended from the air, his dagger flashing towards Damien's throat.

But years of battle experience saved Damien at the last second.

He twisted—avoiding death.

But he didn't avoid the consequences.

SLASH!

Both of his arms were severed.

Damien stumbled back, breathing hard, his sword clattering to the ground.

Oliver landed softly, his crimson eyes locked onto him.

The arena was silent.

Damien's severed arms lay at his feet.

Oliver's dagger dripped with his blood.

Oliver stood firm, his crimson eyes locked onto Damien's trembling form.

He flicked his dagger, sending droplets of blood splattering onto the broken arena floor. The blade gleamed under the harsh light, a final promise of death.

"Now that those annoying arms are gone... I can finally end this."

Damien's breath hitched.

His arms were gone.

His sword was useless.

And worst of all, his skill, Null Collapse, the very ability that had earned him the title Damien the Crusher, required his hands to activate.

But now?

He had nothing.

For the first time since the fight began, fear crept into his eyes. A cold, suffocating realization settled in his gut.

He was going to die.

His eyes darted frantically around, desperate for anything—anyone.

The organization had promised support. Where were they?

No one came.

His teammates?

They were all dead.

Lifeless bodies littered the battlefield, drenched in blood.

He had been so caught up in his own power, so consumed by his rage and desperation, that he hadn't even noticed.

He was alone.

A sickening wave of dread washed over him. His breathing grew shallow, erratic. His mind screamed for a way out—but there was none.

Oliver took a step forward.

Damien could feel it.

Death.

It wasn't some distant concept anymore.

It was here.

Cold, unrelenting, inevitable.

There's a saying—when a person stands at death's door, they look back at their life.

And Damien did.

For the first time in years, he truly saw.

—A warm home, filled with laughter.

—His wife, Maria, humming as she cooked dinner.

—His daughter, Sophi, running to him with bright, innocent eyes.

His light.

His happiness.

Then, darkness.

The day he was diagnosed with Meta Essence Decay Syndrome.

His world became gray.

It was a slow, suffocating curse.

But even then—there was still light.

Maria's unwavering love.

Sophi's innocent smile.

They never turned away.

But he did.

He had pushed them away—and the light dimmed.

Then, a hooded man made him a deal.

A shadowy figure offering hope in exchange for something Damien no longer cared about.

He had believed him.

—And then he saw it.

Their blood.

Maria's lifeless body.

Sophi's cold, unmoving face.

His own hands.

He had snuffed out his own light.

For what?

For this?

A worthless, useless man.

A failure of a husband.

A failure of a father.

A failure as a protector.

He had thrown away everything—for a lie.

And now, standing here, on the brink of death, he finally understood.

"I've been clinging to false hope—blindly digging my own grave."

"But I've already walked this path—"

"I have to finish it."

His body trembled.

His lips parted.

"Maria... Sophi... I'm sorry."

Then—

A roar.

It erupted from his throat, raw and primal, shaking the very air.

A sound of pure despair.

A beast's final cry before the slaughter.

The arena fell silent.

Shock rippled through the spectators.

But Damien wasn't done.

With nothing left—he charged.

No weapons.

No skills.

Just his broken body.

A final act of defiance.

He was basically offering himself.

But Oliver accepted regardless.

SWISH!

A single, clean motion.

And Damien's head flew into the air.

His body continued forward—momentum still carrying him, as if refusing to believe it was over.

Then—

It collapsed.

Lifeless.

Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the cracked battlefield.

A few meters behind Oliver.

The battle was over.

Oliver's team had won.