As a result of the varied fighting styles, there were so many diverse types of attacks being fired off that it looked like a hailstorm of magic and potency. Anthos was weathering the storm, but almost barely. While almost no F Ranker could defeat an E Ranker by themselves, almost a dozen working together were more than enough, especially considering that they were all at the higher end of the Rank.

It was a death by a thousand cuts, but eventually, Anthos succumbed to the damage, falling to the ground. His mortal shell had been worn out, overcoming the power of his stats. A tidal wave of essence rushed into the captains, propelling many of them to the peak of the Rank. Now the Arbiters of Justice had almost ten fighters waiting to ascend to E Rank.

All that was left was the Overlord’s battle with Makra. He spared a glance over to the others, warning them to not interfere with a pulse of Dao energy. This was his fight.

As Makra continued to batter him, he pushed past the pain, diving deep into the concept of his Dao. He was simply better than his opponent in every way, and if he truly believed that, then it would become true.

As he watched the woman flit around his strikes, he started to see a pattern in the universe around him, one that could be filled with Supremacy. The next time Makra teleported, the Overlord sent a spike of Dao energy into the portal that she jumped through, suborning it to the will of his own Dao. Then he stepped through, and appeared behind the woman as she stepped from the ether.

His fist descended towards her head, faster than she could react to. In no world would Makra have expected the Overlord to be able to copy her teleportation after only seeing it a few times. His body was covered in blood, and his bones were twisted and broken, but he moved as if nothing had happened, as if he was a god at the pinnacle of existence. At that moment, Makra realized that she had lost, whether in the next strike, or in the future. The Overlord would always grow better, and she would eventually falter. At that moment, a titanic wave of power erupted from the man at the acknowledgement of an E Ranker, and his fist slammed into her head.

Like a meteor descending from orbit, the strike continued through her body, reducing her to a smear upon reality. A shower of blood rained down around them, and the Overlord with it, his body suddenly failing as the effect of Makra’s Dao increased exponentially with her death, forcing his wounds wide open. The battle was over, but at what cost?

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Some time later, Sam came to in a bed, his body pulsing with pain. A notification awaited him, but he closed it quickly. All it said was that he had gained ten points of Karma. On another bed next to him lay the Overlord, still unconscious. He tried to rise, but found a suspicious lack of purchase beneath him. Then he remembered what had happened before he blacked out. His legs were gone. He instantly tried to use his healing skill, but then realized that Lao would already have healed them by now if he could do so. It seemed that his enemy had left a final gift behind with his E Rank power.

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. That battle had been one of the hardest in his life, and by far the most consequential. Until now, he had avoided losing limbs, because it was the one thing that F Rank regeneration could not fix. All that would happen was that a plug of flesh would form over the wounds. At this point, it was already too late.

His only chance now was reaching E Rank. At that point, his body would reform. Luckily for him, he was already close to that point. The insights from his battle with Jakoss, as well as the upgrade to his Dao had propelled him to the very cusp of ascending. The only thing left to do was to finish meditating. He spared a glance over to the Overlord, who was still in rough shape. Whatever Dao Makra had cultivated had seeped into his wounds, preventing them from healing.

Sam tried to ignore his wounds, but the searing absence of his legs was worse than any of the physical pain. He had been reduced greatly in strength and power. His only hope was ascension.

“Sam! You’re finally awake,” a voice called out. He turned to see Jeffrey walking in. “How are you doing?”

“I feel like a slab of meat, ready to be taken to market,” Sam said bitterly. “I am pretty much useless now.”

“You can still teleport, right?” Jeffrey said.

“Yes, but my channels are all in tatters. The nodes in my legs have been shattered.”

“That’s not good,” Jeffrey said, a bit uselessly.

“The only way I can fix this is by reaching E Rank.”

“For anyone else, I would say that was a long shot, but at this point, you probably have it in the bag. Do you want to be taken to your meditation room?”

“Taken? I can transport myself,” Sam snapped. Then he saw the hurt expression on Jeffrey’s face. “Sorry, I’m not exactly feeling myself right now.”

“You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.”

Sam nodded and then teleported out of the bed, suspending himself in the air with sustained teleports. Then he made his way out of the hospital and towards his house. The journey felt longer than usual, especially with the glances that the townspeople sent his way. A crippled faction leader would lower morale and make people think that the destruction of their city was imminent, no matter that he had just achieved the impossible.