The Oracle Paths

1211 Shadow Over the Arena

As soon as Crunch was dropped into the sprawling arena, a wave of skeptical muttering rippled through both armies. The feline was still in his 'cute' size, and for those with keen enough eyes, the rotund cat didn't look remotely fit for a death match against an apex predator chosen to represent half a continent.

He seemed downright puny—completely insignificant.

"C-c'mon, this has to be a joke, right? Right?!" an archer from the Duskwight Lands blurted out, rubbing his eyes in dumbfounded disbelief at the smooshed-faced furball.

If a regular cat was already a questionable choice of champion to defend a nation's fate, the dopey look on this Himalayan—completely alien to this continent—was enough to leave them staggered. Most soldiers reacted in more or less the same way, though some tried harder to hide their astonishment.

The only exceptions were the ones from Ceythie's own army, who recognized the feline. Were they pleased about this choice? Not exactly…

"Don't sell him short… Yeah, he looks dumber than a rock… but he's tougher than he looks," a barbarian tried to vouch for the beast, having witnessed its lethal efficiency just the day before. Still, his shaky tone made it pretty clear he wasn't fully convinced himself.

In fairness, the black cat had never been truly tested, but neither had it ever fully displayed its capabilities. Meanwhile, the other side had freaking Titans.

"Let's trust our leaders," a bearded old officer covered in scars grunted calmly. "This beast is one of those foreigners; we'd be idiots to write it off. Besides… I can feel it's strong. Way stronger than those big, dumb yellow eyes would have you think."

"Lady Faye, you're our specialist in beast-rearing… what's your take on this one?" Master Eldrion asked with a pensive frown, noticing the raised eyebrows of the two women from the Radiant Conclave.

They had recognized the insolent cat! Pausing a moment to gather her thoughts, the vixen swept a lock of auburn hair back into place, then answered gravely,

"That cat and some other chicken were at Jake's side during negotiations. I'm not sure how they fare in combat, but initially both of those insolent creatures were susceptible to my charm, though it looks like they managed to break free at some point. It suggests their mental defenses aren't all that foolproof."

His face grew grim, and through a telepathic surge sent from his long staff into the depths of the earth, he intoned, "Old tree, I'm counting on you."

In response, the ground suddenly began to quake, sending a burst of panic through both armies. Jake and the other generals and Players immediately shifted their gaze to the middle of the arena.

Just a few meters from Crunch—who was lazily licking his butthole—a cracked mound of dirt was pushing its way up, expanding fast. Soon, the weakened soil lost all cohesion and burst apart, revealing a hideously huge set of mandibles, followed by a massive, blood-chilling head, then a serpentine body bristling with countless equally repulsive legs.

A few seconds later, a colossal centipede dragged itself out of the darkness like a living nightmare, as though torn straight from the deepest bowels of hell. Its body stretched for hundreds of meters—a sinuous, scaly mass slithering forward with a sinister fluidity.

Its obsidian-black exoskeleton was etched with glowing red lines that pulsed slowly, as if driven by the breath of some infernal forge. Each segment was reinforced with vicious, blade-like spikes, sharp enough to slice through stone as easily as flesh.

The beast's head was a disturbing blend of terror and brute force. Its mandibles, as thick as tree trunks, clacked in a bone-rattling snap, dripping a viscous yellow-green fluid that corroded whatever it touched. Centered on its face was a cluster of uneven, luminous eyes that scanned the surroundings with a cold, merciless intelligence. Those eyes were enthralling, trapping anyone who dared stare too long in paralyzing horror.

Each spindly yet razor-sharp leg punched into the ground with enough force to send tremors rolling out, turning the terrain treacherous for anyone bold—or foolish—enough to get too close. But the most unsettling thing was the noise itself: an incessant clattering of legs striking the earth, interspersed with a low rumble and a high-pitched hiss whenever the beast opened its maw.

Naturally, a monstrosity like that stirred a tidal wave of emotions among the onlookers: despair for some, sheer exhilaration for others. Yet, in both camps, a pervasive sense of dread and disgust outweighed everything else.

"With a monster like that on our side… there's no way we can lose," one Light Warrior managed, trying not to piss himself.

If the beast's own allies were rattled, one could only imagine the other side's reaction.

"We're done for…" a soldier groaned, collapsing to his knees, eyes hollow with despair.

The rest of the recruits looked just as defeated. Only the Myrtharian Nerds and a handful of Players kept their composure. The Great Generals, on the other hand, were caught off guard. ṚᴀŊóВĘＳ

"Where did this Titan even come from?" Ceythie demanded warily. It was their first time witnessing such an abomination; even their records had nothing on it.

"I can swear none of our spy reports or scout logs mentioned anything like this," Radahn agreed sternly, his face betraying a flicker of caution for the first time.

Cho Min Ho's look-alike stayed impassive, but the glance he traded with Jake said plenty.

"It's not too late to swap out your contender," he mocked, pretending to be concerned.

Jake threw him a look so dismissive it bordered on contempt, then retorted curtly, "My cat doesn't need your pity."

Inwardly, his heart was turning to ice. That accursed tree was definitely behind this underhanded trick.

But that's fine. Throw anything and everything you've got. We'll handle it.

He had absolute confidence in Crunch. Like cat, like master. Except in terms of looks… there, they couldn't be more different.

"Is Crunch really gonna make it?" Esya whispered anxiously. That centipede looked insane…

Lord Phenix, roused at the same time as his comrade, instantly started squawking, "He'll gobble that worm in one bite! I eat dirt-crawlers like that for breakfast every day."

He'd shouted loudly enough for his voice to carry across the arena and reach the opposing camp. When that arrogant cry echoed through the Radiant Conclave, its members felt a sudden, ominous chill.

Meanwhile, the seemingly insignificant black cat quit licking his balls and lifted his head, aiming his bulging yellow eyes straight at the centipede. His clueless, doped-up look vanished like words scrawled in sand when a wave crashes in, replaced by a predatory chill that so rarely crossed that troublemaking feline's face.

"I was about to give you a chance to surrender, but the foul stench you're giving off changed my mind. I'll kill you here and now."

The centipede's shrieking screech and frantic rattling mandibles only provoked a dark, guttural growl from the cat—something far removed from a regular meow. It sounded more like a lion's ravenous snarl before a kill, but even more chilling.

A split second later, the cat's body began to swell, quickly surpassing the size of a truck, then a Boeing. Up to that point, Jake and his companions hadn't batted an eye, having seen Crunch take on even bigger dimensions before. But once he blew past several hundred meters in length and showed no sign of stopping, they all sat up straighter in their seats.

What felt like a long interval but was really just an instant later, a colossal feline abomination towered over them, occupying over half the arena. The front part of its body had partially split into multiple heads, torsos, and faces—a feline asura pulled straight from the sick imagination of some deeply twisted mind.

Each cat face wore a unique expression—some mischievous, some forlorn, yet all menacing. This diverse array of personalities each radiated power comparable to the original Crunch. Layered together, their combined auras exerted a monumental spiritual pressure that defied belief.

In that moment, the blazing yellow eyes of every "Crunch" pinned the "tiny" centipede to the spot in shocked disbelief—just like most of the spectators.

"Told you so," Lord Phenix seized the chance to proclaim, shattering the silence. "Worms like that are what we eat for breakfast around here."

Merry Christmas!

Arkinslize

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