I Own EVERY Class in This World: Life Set to HELL Mode! - Chapter 296

Chapter 296: The Colosseum’s Strongest Form!
Olikar stood in his ultimate form, towering over the ruins of the Colosseum Tower, his colossal sword humming with chaotic energy.

The transformation had made him unstoppable.

His once red skin now glowed a deep, sinister crimson, veins of dark energy pulsing beneath the surface like the lifeblood of a god.

His eyes burned with fury, and his confidence was palpable.

“You think you can stand before me, human?” Olikar’s voice was a deep, “I’ll show you the true power of a god.”

“Damn, so many of these apostles consider themselves as gods, it’s insane,” Stark laughed, “Yet… all of them die in the end.”

Before Stark could even react, Olikar moved.

His speed was blinding, far faster than any awakener at even level 500 could hope to match.

The apostle closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his blade raised high, shimmering with a deadly aura.

“Die.”

The blade sliced through the air with a sharp whoosh, and before Stark could even process the attack, he felt it.

An immense, searing pain flooded his body as Olikar’s blade cut through him, splitting his form into thousands of tiny, shimmering pieces.

His body shattered like glass, fragments scattering in all directions.

Stark’s world went black.

The sensation of pain vanished as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by an overwhelming stillness.

He was dead.

In the endless void, Stark floated, suspended in nothingness.

No sound, no sight, no sensation.

Just darkness.

But suddenly, a prompt materialized in front of him, glowing in the abyss.

[Do you want to be revived?]

“Damn…” Stark exhaled, his voice echoing in the nothingness.

Olikar had killed him.

Instantly.

Effortlessly.

The realization hit him hard.

On the screen before him, he saw his clone, his [Ultimate Clone], still standing in the ruined tower.

The clone was taking a defensive stance, its fists clenched and its form ready, even as Olikar slowly advanced with his Colosseum Sword raised.

The clone was buying time, holding its ground, but even Stark knew it wouldn’t last long.

Stark clenched his fists, frustration flooding his mind.

There was no way to win this.

Olikar was beyond powerful now, his strength, speed, and aura far surpassing anything Stark had faced before, his current stats matching those of a level 500 monster.

The apostle’s transformation had made him nearly invincible.

Stark’s revival wouldn’t change the fact that he was no match for this monstrous foe.

His mind raced, thoughts spinning through his head like a whirlwind.

“I can’t win…” Stark muttered, his voice heavy with defeat, “He’s too strong. Even if I come back, he’ll just kill me again. There’s no point…”

But then, something caught his eye.

He looked at the screen again, watching the clone try to dodge Olikar’s slow, menacing approach.

The clone was still alive.

Still fighting.

And below it was the cracked ground of the tower.

“Wait…” Stark’s brow furrowed, realization dawning on him, “The cracked… ground?”

A grin crept across Stark’s face.

An idea began to form, something wild, something absolutely reckless.

But that’s what Stark was best at.

“I think… I got an idea,” Stark whispered to himself, “It’s definitely gonna be an ‘Execution’ if it works though… haha…”

The prompt appeared again, glowing brighter now.

[Do you want to be revived?]

[Final attempt, not answering will result in game over.]

Stark’s grin widened.

He had no other choice. No other chances. It was all or nothing.

“YES!” he declared.

Reality snapped back into place.

…

Olikar advanced slowly, his towering form dominating the clone’s.

The apostle’s sword was raised high, ready to deliver the killing blow.

“This ends now, human,” Olikar rumbled, his voice filled with finality.

The blade crackled with chaotic energy, its edge glowing as it neared the clone’s neck.

But then, suddenly, Olikar stopped, remembering something important.

Why was the clone still alive if Stark was dead, it should have disappeared if the host is truly dead… right?

And more importantly, hadn’t he seen Stark revive himself during the battle with the ape? He had witnessed it with his own eyes!

“…!” A realization dawned on Olikar, and his eyes widened.

He turned, his massive frame pivoting just in time to see it happen again.

Stark’s body reformed before his very eyes.

The thousands of pieces of his shattered form slowly reassembled themselves, each fragment drawn back to the main body.

His body knit itself back until finally, Stark stood there, whole and very much alive.

And he was smiling.

“You think returning will save you?” Olikar spat, swinging his sword in a wide arc, the chaotic energy bursting from it, “You cannot win in this space, human. This is my domain!”

Stark’s smile didn’t falter.

In fact, it only grew wider.

“That’s true,” Stark said, his voice calm, yet filled with confidence. “I can’t win here.”

Olikar’s expression twisted in confusion, but before he could question further, Stark pointed down.

“Let’s change the scenery, shall we?”

Olikar’s eyes widened as he stared at the ground, almost fully destroyed from their battle.

“?!” His mind raced, but he was too slow to react, “WAIT, DON’T YOU EVEN DARE—”

But it was too late.

Both Stark and his clone slammed their fists into the ground beneath them with all their might.

CRACK!

The floor beneath them shattered with a deafening crash, and the Colosseum Tower’s topmost platform gave way, crumbling under the force of their combined strength.

The ground beneath Olikar vanished, and the entire battlefield changed now.

…

Fwish!

Both combatants fell through the air, hurtling toward the next floor below.

Stark twisted in mid-air, eyes locked on Olikar as the two descended together.

BAM!

They crashed into the tenth floor of the tower, landing hard amidst a storm of rubble.

Stark barely had time to catch his breath before Olikar was on him again, swinging his Colosseum Sword with deadly precision.

“VOID SLASH… ULTIMATE!”

Every single one of Olikar’s had gained the ‘Ultimate’ perk once he transformed, making them much more deadly.

Stark dodged, narrowly avoiding the blow.

One hit would be fatal, he only had one HP left after reviving, he couldn’t afford to make a single mistake.

The fight continued, intense and brutal.

Every clash sent shockwaves through the tower, the structure groaning beneath their fury.

With each exchange, Stark ducked and weaved, landing blows when he could (though they did less than 1000 damage), but always careful to avoid Olikar’s deadly strikes.

[WARNING! WARNING! THE TOWER WILL CRUMBLE!]

For some strange reason, one he didn’t know, Olikar’s movements seemed so much slower than before.

He knew the apostle was going at full speed, but maybe thanks to [Flow], or something else he didn’t know of, he could now avoid more easily than before.

Again and again, they smashed through the floors, descending deeper into the tower, either by the floor finally giving after Olikar’s attacks, or by Stark smashing the apostle through the ground.

By the time they reached the fifth floor, both were exhausted, their auras flickering with the intensity of the battle.

If anyone saw him right now, they surely wouldn’t be able to know who was the monster and who wasn’t, the [EGO] demon and his clone still behind Stark, both assisting him.

Stark’s breathing was ragged, sweat dripping from his brow, but he knew he couldn’t stop.

He had to push through.

He had to win.

Finally, after a few minutes they crashed into the first floor of the Colosseum Tower, the ground beneath them cracking from the impact.

Stark could feel it: the end was near.

His entire body screamed in pain, but he pushed forward.

He had one final move, one final chance.

His eyes locked on Olikar, who was equally battered, his form flickering as the toll of his transformation weighed heavy on him.

“This is it…” Stark muttered to himself, gathering every last ounce of his strength.

Olikar raised his sword one last time, his massive frame trembling with exhaustion, but still unrelenting in his fury.

“You… can’t win…” Olikar panted, his voice strained but filled with defiance, “Lord… Godless… will reign.”

Stark clenched his fists, his aura flaring around him.

“You’re right…” Stark said, his voice low but steady, “But I don’t need to win fairly.”

Stark couldn’t do real damage to that thing in its current form, he would surely die before it did.

And so he chose the next best solution.

Stark’s aura surged, filling the entire space with a blinding light.

His eyes glowed with a deep crimson color as he raised his hand high, preparing to unleash his final skill, a vortex of aura forming in his eyes.

All of his power, all of his remaining strength, focused into one moment.

Into a skill he had never used until now.

A skill that could either save him, or kill him.

And so… he shouted its name.

“BANISH!” he screamed at the apostle while pointing at him.

The word echoed through the tower as the light exploded outward, consuming everything in its path.

Ding!

[The Banish Game shall start!]

[Whoever’s aura gets consumed by the other will be cast into the void!]

[Good luck!]

Both opponents read that panel, and suddenly… their auras surged from their bodies, clashing against one another.