Beyond the Bloodline-Chapter 279: Azure Void Paragon (Replica) vs Amber Sword I
"...eh?"
Just like the Evangelista twins had been utterly dumbfounded earlier, Jamie let out a voice that betrayed his complete befuddlement.
The Amphitheatre went silent.
The entire Galaxy went silent.
Even those watching from distant Galaxies joined in the silence.
And then, cutting through the stillness, a single True Voice rang out, loud and sharp, snapping everyone back to reality.
|There’s someone...!!|
All eyes turned and beheld the standing figure of a man that suddenly appeared in the arena’s centre. Cloaked entirely in black, with a hood pulled low over his face, obscuring it from view.
At this sight, Davina turned slowly to Jamie, her voice barely a whisper as she questioned.
"...Is it...the real o—?"
She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
From the expression on Jamie’s face, she knew the answer.
It was the real John Cathedral.
Then, as if he had heard her unfinished question, John’s head tilted toward their direction, his gaze sweeping through the vast distance of billions of kilometres, locking onto Davina through the tinted glass.
|Real one, eh?
How’s this for verification? |
As his words reverberated in the heads of every soul in the Amphitheatre and beyond, John’s aura surged.
Instantly, hundreds of billions across the audience fell unconscious.
Their bodies slumped, but their minds were empty, unable to dream, lost in a void.
Those who remained conscious, the Higher Existences—Race Kings and Queens, Galactic Rulers, Realm Lords—were left gasping, struggling to breathe.
They sat there, their chests heaving, as if their very souls were being crushed beneath the weight of John’s presence which reverberated across space-time, reaching those on distant planets.
They questioned their reality.
Who were they? What were they?
Humans? Elves? Dragons? Giants? Titans? Beastmen? Angels? Demons?
No.
They were ants.
Tiny little ants.
’Are we even allowed to exist?’
They began to question their permission to exist in the face of such power.
And then, just as the pressure seemed poised to break them all, John retracted his aura. The unconscious were forcefully revived, their senses returning in a wave of confusion.
John chuckled lightly, amused by the chaos he’d caused, as though the entire situation was some private joke to him.
Watching this, Jamie’s frown deepened.
’What the hell are you doing?!’
The Amphitheatre selected and created Replicas based on the power of the Challenger.
This was a constant, an unchanging principle woven into the core of its functionality.
Even as existential fear gripped them, the members of the Creator Society, drenched in sweat and trembling under the residual weight of John’s aura, recalled this knowledge.
Their Leader, the only one who managed to force himself upright, staggered to his feet. His legs wobbled, his breaths were laboured, and his voice cracked as he addressed John.
[L-lord Cathedral, please the Amphitheatre s-s-system...would collapse...
The database doesn’t h-have any recorded existence at y-your l-l-level..]
John scoffed, his gaze sharp and filled with disdain as he interrupted the man’s stammered plea.
|You lot only have limited knowledge of this thing’s functions and you think you know it all. |
He turned his attention away from the shivering Leader and directed his gaze at the swirling ball of cosmic and creation law energies that hovered at the centre of the Amphitheatre’s circular arena.
|If anyone on my level enters here. This thing is programmed to send out that guy. |
The Leader, his voice barely a whisper, trembled as he asked.
[wa-what guy?]
|One of the only few bastards in this universe who can confidently say he’s stronger than I am...|
When John said this, Jamie’s expression contorted as he finally understood what John was aiming for.
’How did he know?! Wait, that doesn’t matter. This would mess up my plans!’
It was clear that John and Jamie were after the same thing.
The usual sight of creation and cosmic law energy surged to construct the Replica John would be fighting.
But unlike usual, there were a few differences this time.
For one, it wasn’t limited to Creation Law energy.
Spatial Laws joined the mix, weaving through the swirling mass.
And for Cosmic Superiors who could see the Cosmic Energy swirling alongside it, it was clear that this energy wasn’t the neutral ambient energy the Amphitheatre had absorbed over the past few years.
This energy belonged to someone.
And that someone... was Jamie.
[Archive Level 6 Unlocked.]
The system message blinked before the Creator Society members, leaving them stunned.
They had operated the Amphitheatre for millions of years, yet none of them had ever encountered or even heard of a Level 6 Archive.
As the Amphitheatre continued its process of constructing a Replica for John, spectators across galaxies held their breath, their curiosity palpable.
What kind of being could the Amphitheatre possibly hold in its records, capable of challenging someone like him?
The memory of his recent display of power was still vivid in their minds.
The answer emerged as the swirling energy began to coalesce, solidifying piece by piece. From the ground upward, the figure took shape.
Polished brogue shoes.
A perfectly tailored navy-blue pinstriped suit.
A double-breasted coat with sharp lapels.
Black gloves and a crisply folded white handkerchief in the breast pocket.
A flawlessly knotted black tie.
A face so strikingly handsome it could make hearts race.
Piercing azure-blue eyes.
Shimmering silver hair that gleamed under the arena lights.
Flynn’s jaw dropped as his gaze darted to his terminal, where the Replica’s designation was displayed. His voice, shaky with disbelief, stumbled out the words.
[One of the Six Hybrids... Azure Void Paragon... Jamie Westley?!]
His microphone was still active, so the name reverberated through the Amphitheatre and beyond, drawing gasps and shocked murmurs from the audience.
"..."
[...]
John and Replica Jamie stood motionless, locked in a silent stare.
Finally, John’s hand moved to the hilt of the sword resting at his hip. He silently unsheathed the blade, its edge glinting under the arena’s lights.
Replica Jamie’s gaze moved to the weapon, his expression unchanged. Then, for the first time in the Amphitheatre’s history, a Recorded Entity spoke.
[Seriously, this again?]
In response to the words spoken with a sigh, laced with clear exasperation, John chuckled in response, lifting his sword and pointing it forward without a word.
And then it began.
[Imperial Privileges; Aspect of the Space Snake—Jörmungandr.]
A surge of cosmic energy erupted from Replica Jamie, sending shockwaves rippling through the Amphitheatre.
From the ground beneath him, dozens of serpentine constructs formed from spatial energy burst forth, streaking towards John at light speed.
Dozens more emerged a second later, shooting in different directions and then curving inward to trap John in what seemed to be an inescapable net.
John, however, met the spectacle with nothing but a smirk.
His blade twisted in his grip and his hand blurred. Then, dozens of sharp lines appeared in the air, cutting through the spatial serpents and cleaving them into tiny chunks in an instant.
Even so, the onslaught of space snakes was just beginning. The ground beneath Replica Jamie’s feet rippled like water and another surge of energy erupted as more serpentine constructs emerged.
Their sharp, undulating bodies gleamed like crystalline knives, each movement tearing apart the fabric of space.
John’s body blurred as he wove through the incoming wave, moving with speed that rivalled the serpents. His blade moved in arcs, cutting through the snakes as they lunged for him, their fragmented forms dissolving into nothing.
Yet, for every serpent he destroyed, another took its place, coiling and striking with aggression.
Getting close to Replica Jamie proved impossible. Each time John moved within striking range, the serpents shifted to form a barrier that blocked him.
Putting a bit more strength into his sword arm, John slashed through the mass of serpents and down towards Replica Jamie.
Finally, Replica Jamie made his first move. Raising his hand, he held up his index and middle fingers, then swung them downward.
John immediately forced his body to the side, avoiding the slicing dimensional line that erupted from his fingers, carving through space so violently that the Amphitheatre’s automated repair systems struggled to keep up.
For the first time, the damage went beyond repair—the slash extended toward the dome barrier protecting the spectators.
The audience gasped in collective horror as the line reached the barrier, splitting it apart with a deafening crack.
Luckily, the slash stopped just after the barrier, sparing the spectators from being unceremoniously split in two.
