Tyr didn’t just stop with one punch, blasting everything that was in his way with an unrelenting flurry.

Hanzo’s arrows tore through the debris like butter as he unleashed even more, penetrating several holes through the wall that would quickly fill up again but clear more space each time.

Finally, Malon stood back with his shield armed.

With his shield’s new Ancestral Ability, each time a piece of debris from the other two struck his shield, the shield gained even more kinetic energy.

As they were physical attacks, the shield built up a large amount of force before propelling it forward on Malon’s command, even stronger than the initial power with which it was hit.

The blasts added to the onslaught by the trio, and within a matter of seconds, a large enough tunnel was dug through the wall of debris to where everyone could rush out safely.

They ran out, quickly getting on Rudra and the Hoverski before exiting the area.

There was no hesitation on their part to do this.

“Let’s get to that event…” Tyr said with a determined look in his eyes as the four traveled down the hill they were on and toward the main city.

No one else seemed to have any confusion toward this motive.

And just like that, Judgement began their journey to the Continental Thank You Event…

Across their journey, night fell.

The next day, Judgement continued to travel to the capital city where the event was to be held that night.

As they did, the sky began to become darker with time…

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the bustling capital city within Ovalantis, a grand event was starting to kick into gear within the majestic confines of an enormous arena.

The colossal structure, with its towering columns and intricate mosaics, buzzed with vibrant energy, filled to the brim with nobles and dignitaries from across the continent.

The atmosphere was alive with excitement, laughter, and animated conversations, as guests in exquisite attire mingled, their voices rising and falling like the waves of a joyful tide.

Inside, ornate banners hung proudly from the high ceilings, each one representing a different empire, their vivid colors and intricate designs a testament to the power and prestige of those gathered.

At the center of the arena, a magnificent stage awaited the arrival of the emperors, adorned with lavish floral arrangements and golden accents, signaling the importance of the evening’s festivities.

Rows of elaborately decorated seating flanked the stage, with plush cushions and intricate carvings, reserved exclusively for the royal figures.

These thrones gleamed under the soft light of elegant chandeliers, their presence commanding respect and awe from all who dared to look.

In stark contrast, the lesser nobles and dignitaries occupied the back rows, seated on simpler yet still luxurious benches, their fine garments adorned with elegance but lacking the grandeur reserved for the ruling elite.

Servants glided gracefully through the throngs of guests, balancing trays of delicacies—delightfully arranged hors d’oeuvres, sparkling beverages, and sweet confections—each offering a glimpse of the lavish hospitality expected at such an illustrious gathering.

The high-status guests were treated with an air of reverence, their every wish attended to with utmost diligence, while the less fortunate members of the assembly received polite nods, their voices often drowned out by the laughter and chatter of the elite.

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Mysterious figures, cloaked in dark fabrics, lingered at the edges of the arena, their faces obscured yet exuding an aura of authority and intrigue.

They exchanged hushed words, their conversations steeped in veiled intentions and knowing glances.

The anticipation in the air was electric, a palpable tension that grew with each passing moment, as every eye in the arena glanced toward the grand entrance, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the emperors, and of course… of Tyr Evolion.

“I wonder what he is like…”

“A young man who eliminated The Black Merchant Guild, they say? He must be a genius.”

“I can’t believe they threw an event so grand, so fast for this boy… it must be of great importance.”

…

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.

The knight who had been standing beside the entrance pillar raised his horn.

All royals and nobles within the confines of the arena immediately understood what this meant, and they had been eyeing him for the longest by now.

The emperors were to arrive now…

“Please welcome the Supreme Emperor of the center lands, High Ruler of the collected species, and Absolute Commander of the Ovalantis Province; his sovereignty, Julius Vell Storm!”

The air crackled with energy as Julius stepped forward.

A hush fell over the crowd as he moved with purpose, each step resonating with authority.

Beside him walked five men who commanded no less respect than Julius himself.

“The five pillars…” a person exclaimed, in awe of what they were seeing.

One was a middle-aged man wearing bright light-blue robes.

Another wore dark blue robes; he was younger—most likely in his thirties.

A scrawny man walked alongside them, short and wearing baggy dark green and purple robes.

There was another, this one wearing bright green and brown robes with a young face no older than 26 and a large leaf hat on his head.

Finally, behind them all walked a tall figure with a large white beard and long white hair.

Muscles protruded through his white robes, his skin seemingly glowing as he walked.

He was older, most likely over 70 years, yet his body looked no older than 35.

The elegant way Julius carried himself, along with the gleaming diadem across his forehead, commanded immediate respect, and the crowd stood, all even bowing their heads in reverence as he approached his seat.

“Next, we welcome the High Lord of the southern humans and Emperor of the Rock Saelfine Empire; his glorious, Augustus Cloud Maximillion XII!”

As the proclamation echoed through the arena, Augustus entered, flanked by slaves who bore him on a grand litter, their faces a mixture of pride and weariness.

Clad in his flowing red robes and golden crown, he emanated a charisma that drew both admiration and apprehension from the attendees.

The slaves, while treated with a certain deference, were a stark reminder of the empire’s dark realities, their nature hidden beneath the grandeur of the emperor’s arrival.

Augustus smirked as he saw the reaction of the crowd.

They all bowed to him the same, despite how they might have felt depending on their backgrounds.

He whipped the slaves with a spiked golden lasso one last time before arriving at his seat.

“Please welcome the Holy Protector of the northern elves and Crown King of Edenharl Garden; his divinity, Syelthus Edenguard!”

With this announcement, Syelthus glided into view, the fabric of his white and warm-green robe flowing behind him like a gentle breeze.

His presence brought a sense of calm, and the audience held their breath, awed by the elegance he radiated.

A slight nod from him brought forth a wave of murmurs, with many commenting on the elven king’s aura of tranquility amidst the chaotic energy of the arena.

“Next up, we have the High Lord of the eastern dwarfs and Chancellor of the Douden Federation; his powerful, Dristadhumna Mahapra!”

As the crowd watched, the ground seemed to tremble beneath Dristadhumna’s massive frame.

He entered the arena, a towering figure in yellowish-brown armor, and as he stepped forward, even the nobles shifted slightly in their seats, feeling the power emanating from him.

Behind him, a diminutive dwarf kept pace, an emblem of loyalty standing next to his colossal leader.

Finally, the knight’s voice boomed once more: “Please welcome the High Lord of the western mongrals and Emperor of the Zasea Kingdom; his almighty, Karax Haou!”

With a fierce presence, Karax ascended the steps, his appearance wild yet commanding.

The contrast between his unkempt look and the lavish surroundings of the arena added an intriguing element, stirring whispers among the guests.

The attendees watched in mixed awe and judgment, caught between the roughness of the tribesman and the elegance of their own attire.

As the emperors took their places on the raised dais, the tension in the arena reached a fever pitch.

Each one settled into their respective thrones, and the crowd shifted restlessly, eyes wide with anticipation.

The emperors were here, but still, the most discussed name lingered in the air, the reason for this grand event looming like a shadow over the festivities.

With the emperors seated, the whispers grew louder, filled with speculation about Tyr’s arrival.

“Who is this Tyr Evolion, truly?”

“The boy who conquered the Black Merchant Guild… Will he live up to the expectations?”

“A young hero or a mere fluke? We’ll find out soon enough…”

The excitement built, the crowd buzzing with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, their gazes still fixed on the entrance, waiting for the arrival of the hero who had united such a gathering.

At that moment, Syelthus addressed the other emperors: “He still is yet to arrive.” He spoke elegantly.

There was a short moment of silence before Julius answered: “They have teleported somewhere within my empire… it won’t be much longer now. Until then… we will propose a toast.”

The emperor abruptly stood, turning necks and capturing gazes.

“Welcome! All ye’ who have graced this grand arena today…” he called out, his voice resonating through the hall, rich and inviting.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep