Ultimate Gacha System: Reborn As A Mob in My Favorite Game

Chapter 126: The Difference Between A Man And A God [I]

The single word echoed across the colosseum.

It carried a gravity that caused the ruined, towering stone bleachers of the ancient arena to literally groan.

The ancient masonry cracked loudly in terrified protest as the very fabric of the pocket dimension shuddered under the weight of his intent.

’Truly he has more Soul mana for an unawakened Soul King... why is that?’ Ryoki thought

Klaus didn’t reach for his hip as he didn’t have a leather scabbard to frantically draw a weapon from.

He simply raised his right hand.

’Forge...’

He extended his arm directly out toward the empty howling air beside him and he opened his palm.

THOOM!

The air in the arena violently ruptured.

A blinding column of pure white Soul Mana erupted directly from the absolute center of Klaus’s core combining with the Metal Magic he was using...

It didn’t flow like normal magic as it exploded instead.

It generated a concussive rippling shockwave that kicked up a swirling cloud of yellow sand and white frost in a perfect fifty-foot circle around his heavy boots.

He didn’t need a physical weapon forged from mundane steel or iron... He was the True Soul King.

His willpower was the only forge he required.

The roaring, blinding column of white light violently swirling in his open palm didn’t form an elegant thin rapier like Ryoki’s.

It didn’t seek perfection... It didn’t care about balance, or grace, or the long rich history of swordsmanship...

It responded directly to the violent hatred currently boiling in Klaus’s blood. It responded to the image of an innocent woman chained in the dark, bled dry for centuries to fuel a coward’s immortality.

The raw mana violently condensed.

It shrank inward upon itself with a screech as it sounded like a massive iron hull being crushed under the deep ocean pressure.

’I really have this much power...?’

The blinding light rapidly solidified. It forcefully pulled physical mass from the air, forming into a broadsword.

The blade was enormous.

It was over five feet long, a full foot wide at the base, completely lacking a crossguard.

It was a slab of destruction ending in a brutal wedge of a tip.

It was glowing with an intense blinding white spiritual gravity that made the very air around the weapon vibrate.

Klaus wrapped his calloused fingers tightly, securely around the thick, heavy, unadorned hilt of the Soul Broadsword.

The physical weight of the manifested weapon was immense.... It dragged his arm down slightly toward the sand and the tendons in his forearm bulged against his skin but it felt undeniably perfect in his firm grip.

It didn’t feel like a sword meant for dueling.

It felt like an executioner’s block meant for severing heads...

Ryoki stood fifty yards away, completely unfazed. The Second King casually watched the loud manifestation of the weapon.

The silver-haired god didn’t look remotely intimidated by the size or the screaming gravity of the heavy blade.

He didn’t drop into a defensive posture either as he simply raised his own elegant razor-thin rapier.

He let the glowing tip rest lightly against the yellow sand as his posture remained relaxed with his chin tilted upward in an air of supreme superiority.

"That is a crude unrefined weapon," Ryoki smiled.

It was an arrogant pitying expression.

The god shifted gracefully into a flawless textbook aristocratic fencing stance with his silver armor clinked softly in the hot wind.

"It perfectly matches the wielder," Ryoki continued, his dual-toned voice dripping with condescension. "But do not worry, Klaus. I promise I won’t damage the merchandise too badly during our little dance... Your prime muscled physical body will be very, very useful for my future plans once I casually hollow out your skull and discard your pathetic soul into the abyss."

Klaus didn’t offer a witty sarcastic retort.

’Fuck you...’

He didn’t fire back a generic heroic threat about justice or vengeance nor did he waste another single precious second talking to a dead man walking.

Words were just noise.

He reached up slowly with his free left hand and grabbed the tiny, trembling, spectral body of Valeria currently sitting on top of his dark hair.

"Hey!" Valeria yelped in surprise.

His large fingers wrapped firmly around her translucent form. He didn’t squeeze her but his grip was tight.

Klaus pulled her down through the air, bringing her completely level with his broad chest.

"You want revenge for your panties right?" Klaus asked.

Valeria looked up.

She stared directly into his completely dark murderous eyes and then she swallowed a tiny spectral lump in her throat.

The bratty, complaining demeanor she usually wore like a shield vanished instantly as a fierce eager grin suddenly split her tiny glowing face.

"Hell yes, Boss," Valeria declared.

Her tiny voice was no longer complaining. It was filled with fierce loyalty.

"Alright then..."

He poured an overwhelming untamed surge of dense white Soul Mana directly, forcefully from his own core.

He channeled it entirely into the tiny spirit of the Crimson Sharpshooter.

Valeria gasped loudly with her tiny mouth flying open.

The sudden influx of raw divine power was astronomical. It completely overwhelmed her spectral form as it felt like being plugged directly into a dying star.

Her translucent, ghostly, hovering form immediately solidified.

She lit up like a burning flare.

Her red hair blazed with actual heat, waving around her face like a wildfire.

Her oversized red sniper cloak that she wore snapped wildly in the violently displaced air.

It was no longer made of spectral energy, but woven fabric...

She wasn’t just a harmless, intangible ghost complaining in his ear anymore.

Valeria didn’t reach over her shoulder to unholster her miniature bolt-action sniper rifle which she had made from his Soul Mana.

She knew exactly what the Boss wanted.

She could feel his intent bleeding into her mind through the mana connection.

He wanted to get up close and personal... He didn’t want to play a tactical game of ranged warfare... He didn’t want to shoot the arrogant god from fifty yards away... he wanted to feel the bones break under his own two hands so she holstered the rifle smoothly on her back.

She raised both of her tiny, now physically solid hands.

Valeria pointed her index fingers directly, unwaveringly at the elegant, silver-armored Second King standing across the sands.

She cocked her tiny thumbs back with a distinct click.

It sounded exactly like the heavy hammers of twin high-caliber revolvers locking into place.

She made a pair of phantom-finger guns.

Klaus hoisted his glowing white broadsword effortlessly, single-handedly onto his right shoulder with the sheer weight of the blade crunched the yellow sand beneath him.

He planted his combat boot deep, firmly into the dirt as he sank his hips low into a violently coiled sprinter’s stance, prepping his hamstrings for a massive explosive launch.

The Frostblood aura swirling around him instantly froze the sand into solid, jagged glass beneath his soles, giving him perfect traction.

"Let’s kill a god," Klaus snarled as he moved...

BOOM!

He blurred forward.

’I really want to murder this bastard...’

Klaus engaged his Beast’s Vitality and channeled raw compressed wind magic into his calves simultaneously.

The output was amazing.

The yellow sand beneath his feet violently cratered as a massive booming shockwave launching him forward with the terrifying speed of an artillery shell.

He sprinted directly across the killing floor as he cleared the fifty yards in seconds with the hot air screaming past his ears.

He didn’t try to outmaneuver the deity as he raised his massive broadsword high, fully intending to cleave the elegant arrogant tyrant entirely in half with a single swing.

"Bring it on then!"

The collision did not sound like two swords meeting in a duel as it sounded like a meteor striking the earth.

He swung the massive, glowing white broadsword of condensed Soul Mana in a devastating, two-handed overhead cleave.

Klaus put every single ounce of his physical strength, his raw momentum, and his rage behind the blow but Ryoki didn’t retreat.

The Second King didn’t even drop into a wide stance to brace his legs for the impact.

He casually raised his elegant, thin silver rapier with a single hand, catching the descending broadsword directly on the fragile-looking crossguard.

KRA-KOOM!

The shockwave that erupted from the clash of their weapons was apocalyptic.

A perfectly circular ring of displaced atmospheric pressure violently exploded outward from the point of impact.

It instantly vaporized the yellow sand beneath their feet, blasting it away and exposing the gray bedrock of the arena floor in a thirty-foot radius.

The concussive wave didn’t stop there.

It slammed into the towering stone bleachers hundreds of feet away, shattering the masonry and sending heavy chunks of rock tumbling down the tiers in a massive choking cloud of thick dust.

Klaus gritted his teeth with his jaw locked tight as his arms bulged under the severe strain as he leaned his entire body weight forward, trying desperately to force the heavy broadsword down through the god’s guard.

The tendons in his neck strained against his skin with his boots ground into the exposed bedrock.

Ryoki just smiled.

The Second King was physically stronger.

He didn’t possess bulging muscle mass.

His arms were slender, built for speed and precision but his physical frame was fortified by centuries of divine energy.

He was an immortal battery!

He held Klaus’s strongest and most desperate strike at bay with one single, relaxed wrist, looking entirely bored by the exertion.

"Too slow, mortal..." Ryoki mocked, his luminescent white eyes flashing with cold amusement.

With a simple, millimeter-precise flick of his wrist, Ryoki changed the angle of leverage.

He parried the heavy broadsword aside, letting Klaus’s own downward momentum carry the heavy blade wide.

It completely broke Klaus’s guard, throwing his chest wide open.

The Second King stepped gracefully, soundlessly into the opening and thrust the glowing tip of his rapier directly at Klaus’s heart.

Klaus twisted his torso violently.

He couldn’t block so he relied entirely on his ingrained combat instincts by throwing his weight to the side.

He almost cleared it.

WHOOSH!

The silver blade grazed his ribcage. It sliced cleanly, effortlessly through the dark fabric of his combat shirt and left a shallow, burning cut across his skin.

It was a mere graze.

A flesh wound but the pain that immediately flared from the cut was unnatural.

It didn’t burn like fire... it burned like absolute zero!

It felt as if a hook had caught his very essence, dragging a small piece of his soul out through the wound.

Klaus ignored the freezing burn.

Ryoki didn’t press the physical attack.

The god didn’t follow up with a flurry of strikes.

He simply floated backward, gliding effortlessly over the cratered bedrock as if gravity didn’t apply to him, and raised his empty left hand.

"Allow me to show you what true Soul Magic looks like..." Ryoki declared with his voice echoing across the ruined arena.

The air in the colosseum instantly turned freezing cold. The pale sunlight overhead seemed to noticeably dim, plunging the battlefield into a twilight.

Ryoki didn’t summon a fireball nor did he didn’t conjure shards of ice or chains of lightning.

He summoned raw decay.

A churning, boiling wave of pitch-black, necrotic spiritual energy erupted from his open palm.

It moved like a heavy tidal wave of death, sweeping across the exposed bedrock of the arena floor.

WHOOSH!

Klaus saw the true destructiveness of the Soul King class firsthand.

Where the black wave touched the ground, the ancient bedrock simply ceased to exist.

It didn’t crack or shatter... rather it melted.

The solid stone dissolved into pools of bubbling, foul-smelling gray sludge as the very air within the wave visibly rotted, turning thick and highly toxic.

There was no blocking it. You couldn’t raise a sword to parry the concept of death itself!

Klaus channeled his wind magic directly into his boots. He launched himself desperately to the right in a frantic horizontal dive, abandoning all dignity to survive.

He hit the remaining yellow sand hard and rolled, tumbling over the grit.

He almost cleared the blast radius.

Almost...

The outer, churning edge of the necrotic wave clipped Klaus’s left side as he rolled.

"GAH!" Klaus roared with his voice tearing his throat raw as he scrambled desperately to his feet.

It was the agonizing sensation of his own biological cells instantly, simultaneously dying.

The living flesh on his left oblique and hip turned a sickly, ashen, bruised gray.

The necrotic energy clung to him like highly corrosive acid, actively eating away at his life force.

The dead skin sloughed off like wet paper, exposing the red muscle and white bone beneath as the cold spread rapidly, trying to shut down his organs but Klaus was not a normal mortal.

He was a monster wearing human skin... After all, he did have a healing skill from that Healer he killed

Rapid Cellular Mend forcefully, aggressively activated.

The passive skill didn’t care about the pain threshold... It didn’t care about his comfort... It only cared about keeping the host alive.

The heavy toll on his internal stamina reserves was immediate as a white-hot feverish heat flooded his left side, battling the freezing necrosis.

His surviving cells began to divide, replicate, and rebuild at a terrifying unnatural rate.

The dead, gray, rotting flesh was violently pushed out of his body.

It was replaced in real-time by raw red muscle fibers aggressively weaving themselves together, followed by rapidly knitting skin that pulled tight over the wound.

The collision of death magic and regeneration produced a thick cloud of hissing, incredibly foul-smelling steam that rose rapidly from his side.

Klaus stood his ground.

He panted heavily with his chest heaving violently, sucking down air as the wound finally sealed shut, leaving behind a massive patch of pink sensitive skin.

It hurt like hell.

His stamina was drained but he forced a dark smile onto his face anyway. He looked directly at the god through the rising steam.

He could take a hit.

Ryoki’s arrogant, untouchable smirk faltered slightly at the sight of the instantaneous healing.

"You are an incredibly stubborn cockroach," Ryoki sneered.

The god raised his thin silver rapier again, preparing to summon another tidal wave of decay.

Before the Second King could cast the spell, a bratty voice echoed right next to Klaus’s ear.

"Hey, pretty boy!"

Valeria was standing securely on Klaus’s right shoulder.

Her small, solid, translucent red boots were firmly anchored to the dark fabric of his combat shirt by the continuous heavy feed of his Soul Mana.

She leaned forward.

Her tiny crimson eyes were narrowed in concentration as she completely ignored the oppressive aura of the god.

She leveled her phantom-finger guns directly at the god’s flawless face.

"Dodge this."

BANG! BANG!