Warlock Apprentice

The audience was also caught in a state of shock and disbelief at this moment.

”What happened? Why did the Ocean Troll suddenly stop?”

”Was there an interference from the Infinite Battle Tower officials? Or has the match ended?”

But glancing at the Light Screen’s display, there were no signs of the match ending, meaning the contest was still ongoing. So why would the Ocean Troll suddenly come to a halt?

Clueless, the audience could only continue to watch the arena, waiting to see the outcome of this unexpected turn of events.

The tumultuous sea of giant trolls—

Trom stared blankly at the Trident not far away. Even though there was some distance between them, the chilling metallic gleam still emitted a bone-piercing oppressive aura, causing one’s heart to palpitate with fear.

After a brief moment of stupor, Trom immediately sprang into action.

He was curious as to why the giant had paused, but now was not the time to seek answers to that question; escaping the bubble was the priority.

Trom began to attack the weaker parts of the bubble.

Two seconds later, the bubble burst open with a responsive crack.

Trom breathed a sigh of relief. No matter what had happened to the Ocean Troll, it was best to evacuate the area for now.

Just as Trom was preparing to retreat, a thunderous roar exploded from behind him. Instinctively turning to look back, his pupils dilated sharply when he saw what had occurred.

He finally understood why the Ocean Troll had paused its assault—it wasn’t from a sudden stroke of conscience in the beast, but rather due to the intervention of an external force.

There it was—the right hand of the Ocean Troll, cleanly severed from the elbow down, crashing into the ocean with a resounding splash.

And the Trident was gripped in the right hand of the Ocean Troll.

It was because its hand had been severed that the Trident had come to a stop right before Trom’s eyes.

Though Trom had many speculations, he had not anticipated this outcome. Upon realizing the truth, another question arose: Why did the right hand of the Ocean Troll suddenly break off?

Could there be an unknown danger in this arena?

That didn’t seem right to Trom. The Purification Garden incident had already dealt a massive blow to the reputation of the Sky Mechanical City. The new star match they hosted was intended to restore their reputation; they surely wouldn’t tamper with the arena.

If it wasn’t the arena itself, it must be an external factor.

The so-called external factor could only be one thing—the battle between Trom and Onassis taking place here. Trom himself was trapped and had neither the time nor the strength to sever the limb of the Ocean Troll. Therefore, the remaining factor—

When Trom arrived at this realization, a familiar whisper reached his ears.

”All darkness trivial in worth hides in the shadows of the light. Even the most virtuous personality needs ugliness for contrast. Only through indulgence in the decadence of darkness can one savor the beauty of light.”

Somewhat understanding, Trom raised his head towards the source of the sound.

There, on the shoulder of the Ocean Troll, appeared a human form shrouded in darkness. Almost entirely engulfed by dark Mist, only the eyes... glowed a sinister red.

Although blurry, Trom recognized the figure at a glance—it was Onassis, who had previously been sucked into the sea by the whirlpool!

Could it be, as he suspected, that Onassis severed the Ocean Troll’s hand, saving himself in the process?

But did Onassis truly possess the strength to slice off the hand of the Ocean Troll?

Even as someone of Bloodline descent, Trom found it impossible. What did Onassis rely on?

Trom felt his thoughts were muddled, unsure whether he should be grateful or skeptical, or even doubt himself.

While Trom was lost in thought, the Ocean Troll, deprived of its right hand, bellowed in rage, the volume causing the sea to surge with waves.

If one were to study the behavioral expressions of the troll tribe and understand their language, they would interpret the giant’s roar as it shouted, ”Wretched vermin, die!!”

With its right hand severed, the fury of the Ocean Troll had escalated to its zenith. It no longer focused its attacks on Trom but redirected its wrath towards Onassis on its shoulder.

It began to manipulate endless Water Elemental Energy, launching an attack on Onassis.

Onassis seemed not to feel it at all, still muttering that same sentence over and over. When the Water Elemental Energy was about to reach him, he finally whispered, ”Drowning in the darkness, falling into corruption...”

As his voice faded, Onassis’s blood-red eyes suddenly flickered with a mad glow.

”Feel... the beauty...” Onassis’s voice abruptly became ethereal, as his figure vanished into thin air.

When everyone caught sight of him again, they found Onassis had already reached the Ocean Troll’s left shoulder. At the same time, the Ocean Troll’s arm from the elbow to shoulder snapped off and fell.

Seeing this, whether it was Trom or the spectators outside the arena, they immediately realized—was it truly Onassis who had cut off the Ocean Troll’s arm?

But how did he do it? Onassis moved too fast, and most of the audience did not see how he managed it.

With its right arm broken off at the shoulder, the Ocean Troll cried out in pain while launching another attack on Onassis.

This time, Onassis continued to mutter his incantations at the same unhurried pace, vanishing once more before the Ocean Troll’s attack could reach him.

As the blood-red eyes appeared again, everyone found that Onassis was now hovering in front of the Ocean Troll.

A plopping sound of falling into the water occurred, and down fell the Ocean Troll’s left arm.

Shock and bewilderment flickered in Trom’s eyes; shocked by the formidable combat displayed by Onassis, and bewildered because he still hadn’t caught a glimpse of how Onassis had managed to sever the limbs of the Ocean Troll.

Having lost both arms, the Ocean Troll evidently grew fearful. While it still screamed, the sound grew much fainter, and it looked at Onassis with fear in its eyes.

The Ocean Troll ceased its attacks, but now it was Onassis who attacked.

Onassis slowly raised his head, his body still shrouded in Mist, showing no clear indication of his state, but those glowing blood-red eyes were etched into everyone’s heart, including the Ocean Troll’s!

A bizarre laugh emanated from Onassis’s mouth.

Simultaneously, Onassis’s figure disappeared again.

Trom had no idea what was happening, only able to hear the ceaseless laughter. It started off deep, but the laughter grew increasingly manic, sometimes like a lover whispering in the ear, sometimes like a madman consoling the world—sometimes distant, sometimes near, sometimes high, sometimes low.

Everyone was creeped out by this laughter, even the spectators outside the arena.

When the laughter stopped, Onassis reappeared above the head of the Ocean Troll, his head tilted slightly, his blood-red eyes filled with madness.

Madness unadulterated by any impurities.

His gaze had maintained that purity from the start of the match, and even now, it was the pure gaze of a lunatic.

At first, everyone’s eyes were captivated by the figure of Onassis, but in the next second, everyone’s attention turned to the Ocean Troll.

That’s because red lines suddenly appeared all over the Ocean Troll’s body. With the emergence of each line, blood burst forth copiously.

As the red lines spread, the Ocean Troll’s body became disjointed.

The head split in half over the shoulder, the shoulders were chopped into several pieces, the chest cut open in countless places, revealing jagged cracks...

After a series of explosive sounds, the Ocean Troll turned into countless chunks of flesh, scattering into the sea.

Everyone watched in shock as the scene unfolded before them; in that brief moment of laughter, Onassis had dismembered the entire Ocean Troll.

Among the rain of blood and flesh, Onassis slowly raised his head, his eyes focusing on the distant Trom, with a slight curl of his lips.

It was as if he were saying: You’re next.

At that moment, Trom felt as if he were the prey of a fearsome Bishop from the Demon Monastery.

A chill ran down his entire back in an instant.

Trom swallowed reflexively, trying hard to keep his voice from trembling: ”I... concede.”