SSS Awakening : I can Adapt to Everything

Chapter 177: Match - Making

"And the Red Flag has been secured!" the male commentator’s voice boomed through the stadium amplifiers. "A brilliant presentation by Ufrifa’s very own, Hakim!"

Down in the center of the several rocks in between the ocean of water, Rol violently cursed. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the cracked asphalt, his grey eyes sweeping across the battlefield.

He was currently surrounded. Not by a team, but by a single man.

Standing in a perfect circle around Rol were six identical copies of his opponent. Hakim was a towering, bald, bronze-skinned juggernaut from the host nation of Ufrifa. He was built like a fucking robot, his shirtless torso rippling with thick, corded muscle.

His B-Rank talent was a nightmare for an assassin like Rol: Cellular Division. Hakim could seamlessly divide his physical mass and mana pool to create perfect, autonomous clones of himself. While five of them had pinned Rol down in a brutal melee, the sixth had sprinted to the pillar and ripped Rol’s red flag from its mount.

"You’re fast, dog," all five Hakims spoke in perfect, booming unison, cracking their thick knuckles. "But you can’t dodge in every direction at once."

Rol didn’t reply. His chest heaved, his black combat suit torn at the shoulder, revealing a nasty, bleeding bruise. He spun his combat knife in his right hand, his breathing ragged. He couldn’t win a battle of attrition here.

All five juggernauts lunged simultaneously, each one having a small identical blade.

Rol’s eyes instantly flared with a brilliant, ghostly grey light. His terrifying B-Rank perception pierced through the physical plane, directly analyzing the mana pathways of the five incoming bodies.

Clones were perfect replicas, but they were still tethered to the original core. Through the chaotic storm of mana, Rol caught it, a microscopic, millimeter-thick tether of energy linking four of the bodies to the one charging from his blind spot.

’Found you.’

Rol dropped low, completely ignoring the four clones rushing his front. As the true Hakim’s massive, glowing fist swung down with the blade, Rol raised his left hand.

A pale grey, translucent sphere of pure disruptive mana violently expanded from Rol’s palm.

CRACK!

The moment Hakim’s blade the grey sphere, his magical reinforcement completely shattered. Rol’s talent was an absolute nullification zone that destabilized Hakim’s mana on contact.

The giant’s eyes widened in shock as his clones suddenly froze mid air.

But Hakim was a B-Rank veteran. Even without his mana, his physical momentum was terrifying. His another bare fist crashed right through the dispersing grey barrier and clipped Rol in the ribs.

Rol heard a sickening snap in his side. Blinding pain flared through his torso, but the assassin didn’t stagger. Using the momentum of the blow, Rol violently pivoted. He stepped inside Hakim’s guard and drove the hilt of his knife directly into the bundle of nerves at the base of the giant’s neck, simultaneously discharging a burst of disruptive grey mana straight into hid body.

Hakim’s eyes rolled back into his head. The massive man instantly went limp, crashing face-first into the rock. The moment the original lost consciousness, the four remaining clones dissolving into harmless, ambient dust.

Now without any disruption, Rol simply took the blue flag and embed it into the central alter.

The deafening stadium buzzer blared, freezing the massive holographic clock.

"He got him!" the female commentator shrieked, the crowd erupting into a frenzy. "Hakim secured the red flag, but Rol successfully neutralized the original body! A breathtaking victory! Rol secures the win with 300 points, but entirely misses out on the 500-point flag bonus!"

Rol groaned, clutching his chest as he looked up at the scoreboard. ’Three hundred points’, he thought bitterly, limping toward the medical exit tunnel. ’Barely enough to stay comfortable in the rankings. That bald bastard played me.’

Ten minutes later, the heavy doors of the Varisus spectating room hissed open. Rol walked in, a fresh white bandage tightly wrapped around his torso beneath a spare shirt. He tossed a half-empty energy drink onto the table and slumped heavily into a leather couch.

"Nice work out there, Captain," Gideon grinned, tossing Rol a clean towel. "That was a close one at the end. I thought that giant was going to crush you."

"He broke my damn rib," Rol grumbled, wiping the cold sweat from his face. "And stole my flag."

"A win is a win," Evelyn said without looking up. "You can easily have enough points to make a total of 1000. That’s what matters."

Hide sat in the corner of the room, casually scrolling through his communicator. He offered Rol a brief, respectful nod, which the assassin returned with an exhausted sigh.

He still didn’t like Hide.

Rol looked around the spacious room, his brows knitting together in confusion. "She is not here still?" he asked, referencing Sora.

"Still locked in her room," Gideon sighed. "She hasn’t come out since yesterday. Refuses to answer the door. Said she’s ’meditating’ and doing mental training, but honestly, she just sounds panicked."

Hide didn’t say a single word. His blue eyes remained glued to his screen, his expression a flawless, deadpan mask of complete innocence, though his finger entirely stopped scrolling.

"Whatever. Kids are weird," Rol muttered, leaning his head back. He turned his attention to the large holographic screen displaying the arena. "Match thirty-eight is officially done. Today is the final day... then the second second phase."

"Yes," Evelyn confirmed, her fingers flying across her tablet. "still 21 matches are remaining."

The matches went on one by one. The stadium layout was changed thrice during the last 15 matches and then there were only 6 matches left.

"They haven’t called me," Claire muttered, her red eyes burning as she stared down at the empty arena. She had been panicking ever since the 48th match underwent.

"It’s an administrative delay, Claire," Evelyn offered gently from the couch. "Maybe next match is yours? Its random remember."

"No," Hide spoke up, his voice cutting through the room. "It’s not a delay. It’s a show."

It was true enough... and soon his words were proven right. When all the matches had ended and only one was left.

The entire stadium was plunged into darkness. The roaring crowd went dead silent, a collective gasp echoing through the dome as confusion set in. A moment later, two massive, blinding white spotlights snapped down from the ceiling, illuminating the sleek platform where the two commentators stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Citizens of the world!" the female commentators voice boomed through the speakers, dripping with a theatrical, manic excitement that sent shivers down the spines of everyone listening. "You have witnessed three grueling days of blood, sweat, and genius! The first round of the Solo Phase has given us legendary upsets and birthed new prodigies!"

The male commentator grabbed the microphone, leaning over the edge of the platform. "But... did you really think we would close out the last first round of the tournament with a standard match?"

The stadium erupted into a deafening, fanatical roar of anticipation.

"For the final match of first round we had decided to bypass the random lottery!" the voice echoing like thunder. "We have manually set the the brackets to give you, the people, the ultimate spectacle! A clash of the titans!"

Up in the spectating room, Claire was sitting silently... she had known this.

"Fuck them," she whispered, standing up from the couch.

"There are only two combatants remaining in the queue. The only two participants in this entire tournament to possess the title of humanity’s absolute apex."

The massive digital screens wrapping the stadium flashed brilliantly. Two names appeared in massive, blazing gold letters.

"From Varisus, we have the newly ascended, S-Rank, Claire V. Bronn!"

"And from the Rytan Republic, The S-Rank, Julian!"