Chapter 80: Time Does Not Stop

  Two days after the banquet, the crowds at the arena gathered again to continue the struggles of the dimensional representatives. Micromegas announced that the first phase would take place in the classic manner - fights between random participants were to provide an opportunity to learn and recognize one's own shortcomings. They were to be fights to the death.

  Heading to the arena with the delegation, Justinian noticed visible changes that had occurred throughout the 60th dimension since he first visited it. Above all, the wildness of the planet's development outside the city turned out to be a stark contrast to the city itself, which had not changed at all. The dead earth, previously visible far on the edges of the horizon, now did not show up within sight at all, and instead, green meadows and pastures were blossoming there.

  'There are no signs of fighting either...'

  Justinian already guessed that the large holes, devoid of the planet's lush vegetation, were the effect of the dimension ruler's fight against his mysterious enemy. Currently, they were covered by jungle, giving the impression that they had essentially never existed.

  However, that was not the biggest change that had occurred in the dimension.

  Such a description could only fit another change, equally unexpected though much more ridiculous.

  Behold the reactions of the devils, which at first were full of suspicion and barely concealed hostility, now... were quite peculiar. Although the fiends largely still reacted to him by furrowing their brows and turning their heads the other way, a significant variety had appeared in this regard.

  "Can you sign this diary?!"

  "Mister Justinian, we love you!"

  "Will... will you show us the dance pose from the banquet?"

  These requests came in the vast majority from women and children. The devilish men reacted to it by shaking their heads, though with distinct jealousy over such treatment.

  In other words, the embarrassed Justinian had become a hellish celebrity.

  This phenomenon was even noticeable in the arena. Sitting in the zone specially designated for the 66th dimension screams of female fans could be heard time and time again. To the young man's great frustration, it was not limited solely to random devils either.

  The Sarmatians, previously proudly presenting their mustaches, now looked at him with distinct embarrassment and no small amount of envy. Bogna, who even before the banquet had laughed at the image of his alleged dance, turned her blushing gaze away whenever he looked at her. Even Septima, despite attempts to maintain her usual cold indifference, evidently harbored a certain reserve therein, absent before.

  Justinian, seeing a great injustice in this absurdity, could only wring his hands, especially over the double standards of the devilish nobles.

  'You started dancing yourselves, so don't look at me that way!'

  He was also evidently irritated by Bogna, who had rejoiced like a madwoman at the banquet, only to start avoiding him a day later.

  His only consolation was in Franciscus, who as usual occupied himself exclusively with his notebook.

  The fights were obviously bloody, although it seemed that a certain type of pact existed between the devils. For so far, despite close to ten fights having taken place, no participant had dropped dead yet.

  In an interesting coincidence, the only participant from the 66th dimension in those fights turned out to be Alfons. The young nobleman went down to the arena all pale accompanied by whistles and evidently feared for his health, yet due to Nikodem's demanding gaze, he could not wriggle out of it. With a trembling hand placed on his saber, he expected a fight for his life when a short-statured devil from the 66.6th dimension, covered entirely in a white hood... simply surrendered.

  Later, another participant from his team behaved the same way. Seweryn commented on the surprising situation regarding the "penitents" from the stands.

  "They are apparently afraid to provoke other dimensions before the war starts."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The loud jeers of the audience gathered at the arena made Justinian doubt whether this was the proper strategy for survival in this world.

  Soon his turn to fight also arrived, and it was an extremely... polarizing spectacle. For without a doubt, his entrance was accompanied by the loudest reactions from the audience.

  The hardline representation of jealous devils looked at him with even greater hostility than during the first day of the ceremony, when he was hailed a monster. From the side of the devilesses, however... the enthusiasm was unbridled. All this was additionally complicated by the fact that Justinian felt constant pressure from the loge where Micromegas was located.

  'Is that white-haired devil with the hostile gaze one of the observers?'

  He did not want to jump to premature conclusions, but the pressure he felt was definitely not friendly.

  In all this, a certain source of consolation was the drawing of the opponent. It turned out to be one of Bahadyr's subordinates, who due to weaker cultivation at the first level of Foundation Establishment could not last more than three exchanges of blows. The matter was similar with Septima's fight, who defeated one of the weaker adepts from the 63rd dimension.

  During this day of fighting two people made a particularly powerful impression on Justinian. The first was a devil from the 65th dimension, who seemed to possess an unusual mental technique that remained a mystery to the young man. His duel with an alchemist from the 62nd dimension lasted for a few seconds, during which neither of the "combatants" made any move. Only when the moment passed did the alchemist fall to the ground, excreting bloody foam from his devilish snout.

  The second of the interesting individuals was the strongest of the 61st Voivode's adepts, who was just dominating one of the strange devils in black leathers from the 63rd dimension. The latter, bleeding profusely and staggering on his legs, looked with desperation at his calm tormentor. However, it seemed that due to the pressure-filled gaze of his dimension's ruler, he did not dare to surrender.

  "You have one chance."

  Svarticus, the opponent who had reduced him to this state, warned coldly. Watching the fight in concentration, Justinian saw the weaker devil grit his teeth to accumulate energy in his hand and prepare a final attack.

  Shortly after, bizarre, grotesque specters began to flow from it, looking like the distorted ghosts of dead dogs. Despite their irregular shapes, they emanated a power that seemed to exceed the second level of Foundation Establishment. Justinian frowned on the stands as all this energy began to head towards the motionless Svarticus like projectiles.

  'Is this devil as crazy as his Voivode!?'

  The young man did not understand this passive acceptance of the attack at all, especially when the strange specters began to tear Svarticus's skin and pieces of flesh in the place where they attacked. However, then something changed.

  After one of the strikes, blood appeared, and the devil, widening his eyes, leaned over the wound. A few saw a flash of madness in his eyes before a terrible, soul-wounding sound tore through the air!

  "AAAAAAAAAAAHH!!"

  The scream that came from his throat shook the entire arena to its foundations! The shocked audience remained safe thanks to the protective spells of the stands, however, the same could not be said about the devil from the 63rd dimension.

  The strange attack he had used earlier was completely destroyed by the terrible shriek, and only after a moment, when the clouds of dust settled, could the result be seen. That individual lay curled up on the sand under one of the stands, as Svarticus began to approach him with a cold glint in his eye.

  Justinian, sitting on the stands, felt his heart begin to race rapidly watching what was about to occur.

  No longer than few seconds later... the defeated devil was brutally murdered!

  When the adept from the 63rd dimension was being torn in two alive by the merciless attacker, a freezing realization appeared in the young man's head. For he realized what the source of Svarticus's power was.

  'That foul power... it's the Devilish Virtue of Wrath that I felt on the moon!'

  However, the events of today did not end there. The devil from the 61st dimension looked at the stands, exactly at the place where the representation of the 66th dimension was located. There he found Justinian with his gaze, and then, in the silence of the terrified arena, he raised a finger to his neck and ran it horizontally.

  It was a blatant declaration of war!

  While brutal fights were taking place in the 60th dimension, time did not stop for other places either.

  In 66th Hell, a certain mysterious gentleman arrived at the Mountain of Mists, the famous residence of Voivode Boruta. His face was covered by a hood, hiding his countenance from curious gazes.

  If he had arrived here under normal circumstances, perhaps a few people would have paid attention to him, but for a long time, circumstances had not been normal. Hence, his presence caught the attention of only the few petitioners who had been waiting for an audience for a long time.

  Treading lightly, as if not touching the ground at all, this figure did not stop by them, however, and headed straight to the building where the Voivode usually welcomed his guests. The closed doors caused the newcomer to stop for a moment filled with silence, after which he made a decision. His next target was Boruta's private chambers, one of the most inaccessible places in the entire 66th dimension.

  When the figure began to slowly float up in their direction, the silence of the mountain was interrupted.

  'Hmm?'

  Soon, the pressure in the entire dimension began to change!

  A sound appeared from everywhere, as if reflecting the beating of the planet's heart. Hellish bells of unknown origin began to toll in a strange, stunning way. It created a hellish melody from which one could not break free.

  The sound was so powerful that whoever heard it needed a few seconds until the initial trance passed on its own, accustoming the soul to the terrible rhythm.

  The figure in the hood, Ignatius the Emptyhead, had no clue what this cruel melody meant.

  However, he had the impression that the matter of removing the derogatory nickname from him might turn out to be more complicated than he originally thought.