MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 980: Possum

Lucian Darkheart maintained a serene look on his features, but in the instant that followed, a broad grin spread over his mouth. Victory was his... a genuine triumph at last. Even though all those gathered had ways to come back to life through skills or items, allowing revival in some fashion, the one struck down would still count as the defeated in the duel, no matter what came after. That's what made Lucian so elated, his inner joy surging uncontrollably.

Whatever Aaaninja tried now, the fight was over for him, and on top of that, revival wasn't even an option at this point since the Law Imposition power lingered, making Aaaninja's comeback utterly pointless and sealing off any path to recovery.

Of course, barring any sudden twist.

Though Lucian had sort of "perished" earlier when Aaaninja deployed Temporal Erasure to wipe him from their timeline, that wasn't the same as this. He hadn't been slain outright but merely removed from that specific flow of time. The two ideas were completely distinct, ruled by separate principles and laws, so the guidelines differed, and Lucian grasped that difference perfectly.

Looking up at the heavens, Lucian reflected on the three grueling years he'd endured waiting for this... this chance at revenge, and now it was here, not by luck or accident—he had claimed the win. A wave of deep fulfillment and joy coursed through him as he remained still, soaking in the warm sunlight and the soft breeze touching his renewed body.

’Looks like that money-hungry writer is finally showing some fairness,’ Lucian pondered silently, ’or maybe Aaaninja's Earth version isn't throwing in as many top-tier gifts anymore, and given that author's cheeky, avaricious nature, that's likely the case.’ A sly inner smile crossed his thoughts while he stood in quiet poise.

He was convinced his defeat three years back stemmed from that so-called greedy author twisting events against him, yet today, the story had shifted, and in his view, fairness had returned at last.

Gripping the handle of his katana tighter, he let out a soft, measured breath before sliding it into its sheath with deliberate grace, the edge gliding smoothly home. Through Event Rewriting, Lucian Darkheart mended his outfit and form back to flawless condition, wiping away all grime and stains from his skin and clothes as if they'd never been there.

His gaze dropped to Aaaninja’s decapitated form, slumped in a spreading puddle of red. Usually, Aaaninja would have sprung back to life right away, but not this time, and the lifeless hush around the body felt both comforting and strangely off-putting.

’I just hope the River Of Time doesn't lash out or try to interfere with me,’ Lucian thought warily to himself. When Kingsley fell, the Universe itself had reacted, and with Aaaninja gone now, wasn't it logical to worry that the River Of Time might step in to balance things or strike back?

Lucian recognized his Law Imposition as powerful and unyielding in its domain, but he wasn't foolish enough to think it could perfectly counter something like the River Of Time, an existence overseeing every multiverse and omniverse, beyond single timelines and minor mortal rules.

[It seems the system will be bidding the Host farewell very soon]

The system spoke up, convinced Lucian was done for, since Aaaninja's defeat would surely draw some greater force to meddle, whether now or later—the interference felt unavoidable in its judgment.

Lucian gave a slight shake of his head as he averted his eyes, his dark gaze lifting to Klaus while he anticipated the official call of the winner in this crucial clash, sure his name would ring out to the crowd.

Suddenly, a faint shimmer appeared, and the sickening rip of flesh rang out sharply, resounding in every listener's ears. Blood sprayed wildly onto the ground as twin blades ripped into Lucian's mind and chest at once, offering no chance of enduring such wounds.

Lucian’s dark eyes dropped to the weapon in his chest, then flicked to the one in his skull, before shifting again—and there was Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos, unharmed and pristine, without a mark on him.

"Checkmate," Aaaninja said, echoing the very phrase Lucian had thrown at him just before, his voice steady and final.

At Aaaninja’s declaration, Lucian coughed up a gush of blood and sank to his knees with a thud, his thoughts reeling in stunned disbelief, still racing to figure out how Aaaninja had pulled through when he was so sure the man was finished.

Deprived of his Time Affinity, Aaaninja should have been helpless, but here he was, positioned behind, looking down with those steady, pure white eyes.

Lucian let out a quiet sigh, remembering how three years prior, the scene had played out identically. Back then, he'd unleashed a Soul Art katana move to cut Aaaninja’s soul and clinch the fight. In that instant, he'd eased up just a bit, and Aaaninja, pretending the Soul Art katana technique had hit, struck back swiftly to steal the victory at the final breath.

And now, Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos had pulled off the identical ploy with maddening accuracy.

’Is this fellow pretending to be dead like some animal or a divine being, how is he so ridiculously good at faking it,’ he wondered as he toppled over with a crash, his awareness fading into the void while his blood spread out around him.

Typically, with his brain and heart shredded beyond repair, death should have come immediately, but his incredible resilience and unyielding spirit held him on for that fleeting instant... one second that felt endlessly prolonged in his mind.

Yet that lone second changed nothing vital; mana was beyond his reach, no skills or powers could fire, he was totally beaten, and the truth stung with defeat and shame.

Lucian’s final thoughts turned to the author once more, ’Guess my idea that Aaaninja’s Earth double stopped the big donations was wrong. The author’s still as greedy and brazen as always,’ he reflected with resentment, damning the author with his last gasp and clear idea before blackness overtook him completely, and he perished, his dreamed-of win dissolving into a mere shadow.