Psychic Overlord-Chapter 129: Titanium Division 2

As Akiro’s last strike faltered, his body trembling from exhaustion and overexertion, the crowd fell into an eerie silence as they could barely comprehend what they were witnessing.

A whole A class esper couldn’t even break the basic barrier of an S class?

Akiro’s breath came in gasps while his shoulders heaved crazily, sweating matting his hair to his head.

The once awesome and menacing jagged bone weapons that had circled him moments before now lay scattered across the arena floor, cracked or crumbling under their own weight.

His gauntlets that had taken the lives of countless dark espers while on missions were now splintered and his arms were shaking from tiredness as he could barely lift them up in a boxing posture.

And as for Kaizer?

Well, Kaizer hadn’t moved an inch the entire time, as he was still standing in the exact same position, his posture relaxed but not arrogant, calm but not mocking.

His eyes weren’t even on Akiro, they were still fixed somewhere in the air, clearly distracted by internal calculations about future battles. It was as if this fight were his foe whaled on him with all of his best attacks hadn’t even registered in his subconscious.

Lysandra, still on the commentary platform, slowly brought her microphone to her lips to pass some comical comments to lighten things up, but paused when Akiro suddenly dropped to his knees.

"I... can’t win this," Akiro muttered weakly, his voice hoarse.

A few in the crowd gasped in shock while some critical ones jeered, but most were simply stunned.

"I’ve fought bastards and I’ve faced against elite espers, but this... this is like throwing myself at a mountain and expecting it to bleed." He looked up at Kaizer with something that wasn’t quite hatred... but wasn’t respect either.

"You didn’t even do anything." He muttered sullenly.

Kaizer snapped out of it and finally looked down at him, silent. He felt it would likely cause a life and death enmity right now if he asked what this guy was talking about since he had no idea.

Akiro dropped his arms and backed away. "I surrender."

DING!

The match bell rang once, and Lysandra stepped forward with a neutral, if slightly amused, expression.

"By formal surrender, the winner is... Kaizer Lunin, the Overlord!"

The crowd erupted, not with overwhelming cheers, but with something far more subdued which was characterized by tension, awe and confusion as whispers filled the stands.

"This guy never even moved..."

"That’s OP, this guy is probably hacking!"

"Bruh, what the hell kind of psychic power is that?!"

In the Heir Pavilion, Davion stood frozen. His eyes soon narrowed, his nails digging into his palm with hatred.

"That... smug bastard."

Back at the arena center, Kaizer turned around and walked away without a word, the energy from his barrier fading as if it had never existed at all.

Roland chuckled from his seat above. "Talk about economy of effort."

Rina simply smirked. "That’s my brother."

Lucian nodded simply. "Not bad. He didn’t humiliate him. Just erased him."

Sophia adjusted her gloves. "And now... the real tournament begins."

The arena remained charged with tension as Kaizer exited to roaring commentary and controlled awe, but no time was wasted.

The system immediately chimed again, the obsidian platform re-stabilizing as the next names came into view in glowing green and silver: [Match 2: Tyrron Buld "Ragnar" (S-Class - Earth Lightning) vs. Farah Desh (A-Class - Sonic Javelin)]

Lysandra’s voice echoed out again, this time with a tone of suppressed excitement. "And now... the storm enters."

The crowd knew this name as literally everyone in Alpha City knew Tyrron Buld.

An orphan from a low-quality orphanage who was not too bright when it came to his schoolwork, whose future was projected to be a low level bum or loge wage earner till the day he died.

One day, when working one of his 4 part time jobs, he witnessed a typical alleyway harassment scene and tried to stop it since he had a huge build, but who knew one of these hooligans had a gun?

The bullet was fired, but the flesh was not pierce, as the bullet - and all the hooligans - were vaporized by a storm of green lightning that appeared suddenly as the young lad awoke.

After investigations, he would found and brought to the academy, and after being tested as S class, he was taken in by the academy’s most active esper, Carlisle Freed.

Not only was his story well documented among espers, but he was the S class esper in the academy who took on the most missions from the Esper Commission to fund his studies as Carlisle Freed was notoriously stingy.

From the far end of the arena, a single tremor shook the stage.

BOOM!

A second quake then followed.

BOOM!

And then... he appeared.

Like a walking force of nature, Tyrron stepped onto the obsidian platform, barefoot, wearing a sleeveless combat gi torn at the knees. His skin was tanned bronze, his black and green hair fell down like a mane, and his eyes, which were wild, glowed with barely restrained fury.

Crackling arcs of green lightning surged along his arms and shoulders, slamming into the ground with each step.

"Ragnar, huh? That guy’s always two punches from turning into a nuke." Roland muttered with complaint since he often had to spar with the guy as fellow students under Carlisle Freed.

Rina leaned forward, her interest piqued. "I heard he’s more beast than man when he gets going."

Across from him, Farah Desh stood tall and composed, her black bodysuit trimmed with silver fins. She bore three javelins made of condensed sonic plasma, humming faintly at her side while her eyes narrowed as she assessed the walking storm.

"Begin!" Lysandra called out suddenly.

Farah was fast as within the blink of an eye, her first javelin hurled across the arena with a sonic boom that shattered the air itself.

It struck Tyrron in the chest dead center, but he didn’t even flinch as the green lightning absorbed the force, dancing violently across his skin.

His muscles tensed and bulged crazily.

"Haaah!!!" He roared as the lightning around him grew brighter.

Farah’s second and third javelins came fast, shifting trajectories mid-flight and aimed at his legs.

They struck with two boom sounds, but again, no reaction. Instead, Tyrron slowly raised his head and bellowed, the arena shivering under his power.

Sophia murmured. "He converts all kinetic impact into rage fuel. Each hit doesn’t weaken him, it only makes him stronger."

"Nice ability, but the drawback is emotional instability. If he snaps, he’s uncontrollable." Kaizer noted from the stands.

He had done his research on his peers, but he did not need to know this about Ragnar as Kazier could sense the mental instability growing in Tyrron through his telepathy.

Back in the arena, Tyrron’s voice rumbled like thunder.

"...Hit me again."

Farah clenched her jaw and launched backward, skimming across the arena as she tried to switch to precision attacks. She conjured a wide wave of concussive javelins, blanketing him from multiple angles as dozens of impacts detonated at once, causing the entire arena to light up.

And then it happened.

Tyrron roared again, a primal and echoing bellow that shattered the sonic remnants around him. Earth cracked, lightning surged upward in massive forks, and a ripple of sheer pressure flattened the floor around him.

The people around had to cover the ears as their hearts leapt to their throats, seeing that Tyrron’s green light warped the very light around them to release waves of light distortions emerging from Tyrron at the center.

Tyrron lowered his head with gritted teeth, his eyes suddenly widening as he moved.

Like the flash, electricity coiled around him as he appeared before her in a single blink, his arm drawn back.

The punch landed and the who world seemed to pause at that instant.

BOOOOOOM.

A singular shockwave pulsed across the field, knocking out several drones trying to capture the footage for those high in the stands. Farah herself was launched backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the far barrier with a dull groan and causing it to crack severely.

The match was over.

Lysandra didn’t even hesitate. "Winner: Tyrron Buld, Ragnar!"

The crowd was roaring now, the floor nearly shaking as this was the kind of overwhelming display they came to see.

However, Tyrron himself didn’t celebrate. His eyes twitched crazily, lightning still crackling all over his body while his breathing was rough as he tried to control himself.

"He’s not calming down." Lucian observed, readying his sword in case he was needed.

"Someone get Lysandra ready to teleport him if he tips," Roland added as he sat up seriously, knowing all to well how dangerous his pal was if he lost it.

Kaizer, however, smiled faintly. "His rage has a rhythm and he’s learning to cage it."

And far above in the VIP lounge, the observers secretly marked a note beside his name:

Ragnar is a potential nuclear level weapon. However, he is unstable and must be monitored closely.