CHAPTER 187: AAMIR VS KORR THE UNBROKEN

The Blood Valley shook with the echo of battle, far from the grandeur of the main arena.

In the stands, spectators craned their necks, eyes glued to a massive floating screen hovering above the arena, broadcasting the fight in real-time. Whispers and excited murmurs rippled through the crowd as the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena.

"Next match—Aamir of the Vampires versus Korr, Champion of the Werewolves!"

On the screen, Korr’s massive form loomed, muscles rippling under silvery fur, claws sharp enough to shred stone. His amber eyes glowed with primal fury.

Aamir stood in the center of Blood Valley, hands casually in his pockets. Calm. Composed. Like he was waiting for a stroll, not a fight.

Korr growled, cracking his neck. "You’ll regret stepping into this valley, outsider."

Aamir smirked lazily. "Confidence is nice. Let’s see if it’s backed up with substance."

On the screen, the crowd could see every move as if they were there, though hundreds of meters away. No stance, no weapon, no flaring aura—just a man standing amidst a raging beast.

Korr lunged, claws slicing through the air. Dust and gravel exploded under his feet as he barreled forward.

SLASH!

The claws tore empty air.

Aamir tilted his head just enough; Korr’s attack missed by a hair’s breadth. "Fast. But not fast enough," Aamir said with a casual grin.

Before Korr could react, a finger flicked against his forehead.

BONK!

The sound was almost comical. Korr staggered, clutching his head. Even on the distant screen, the audience burst into laughter.

"Did... he just poke him?!" a spectator shouted.

Korr’s fur bristled, bones cracking, fangs lengthening. He transformed into his semi-apex state, towering over Aamir. His aura pulsed outward like a tidal wave of fury.

"I’LL TEAR YOU APART!" he roared.

Aamir yawned. "Yeah, yeah. Big scary wolf. Heard it before."

Korr struck again, claws flashing in a blur, tearing up the valley floor. Sparks flew where nails met stone. But Aamir moved like water—slipping, bending, weaving. No attacks, no defense—just flawless evasion.

SWIPE!

WHOOSH!

CRASH!

Every missed strike left jagged marks across the valley floor, deep cracks spreading under the raw force.

"Hold still, damn you!" Korr barked.

"Why? You’re already giving me a free workout," Aamir chuckled.

Another swipe—Aamir ducked. Another slash—he tapped Korr lightly on the ribs with an elbow. The impact sent the werewolf stumbling.

The floating screen showed the audience gasping.

"Wait, he didn’t even use a weapon!"

"Just his elbow!"

Aamir shrugged with a grin. "Come on, Korr. You’re the champion, right? Don’t make this boring for me."

Korr’s roar shook the valley as he stamped the ground. Dust swirled, clinging to the air, as he lunged downward like a hammer.

One finger. TAP.

Aamir stopped Korr’s claw mid-swing. The audience froze on the screen, eyes wide. Muscles bulged, veins popped—Korr strained with every ounce of strength, yet Aamir didn’t budge.

"Impressive strength," Aamir said softly. "But you’re trying to break a mountain with a toothpick."

A flick redirected the massive claw, spinning Korr sideways. BOOM! He slammed into a valley wall, sending dust and rubble flying.

Silence fell over the spectators in the arena as they watched the replay on the floating screen. Then—the eruption:

"AAMIR! AAMIR! AAMIR!"

Vampires cheered, stomping and clapping. Even some werewolves stared slack-jawed.

Korr dragged himself up, chest heaving, aura flickering. His eyes still burned—not with shame, but with curiosity.

"You... you’re a monster," he admitted.

Aamir tilted his head. "Thanks, I get that a lot."

Korr smirked, sharp teeth gleaming. "But you’re strong. Stronger than I imagined. I like that."

Aamir’s grin softened. "And you’re stubborn. I like that too."

No referee was present here—no official hand to declare the victor. Only the valley, the floating screen, and the hundreds of eyes glued to it. Still, the result was clear: Aamir had defeated Korr.

"Don’t take it too hard, Korr. After all..." Aamir winked, "...it’s not every day you get beaten by a ’beastkin from Earth.’"

The spectators on the arena floor erupted in cheers, the floating screen showing Korr’s grudging nod of respect as he disappeared into the valley mist.

The floating screen still showed Korr, battered and breathing heavily. Though he had lost, his spirit remained unbroken. Aamir, true to his word, hadn’t killed him. Instead, he stepped back, hands still tucked in his pockets.

"You fought well, Korr. But I don’t kill those who don’t deserve it," Aamir said calmly.

Korr gave a faint nod before collapsing onto one knee. The battle was over.

In the arena, murmurs rippled through the audience. One fan of Korr suddenly stood up, raising his voice so the nearby crowd could hear.

"Do you all even know why he’s called the Champion of the First Phase?!" the fan shouted. "If he was so strong, why didn’t he win the other two phases?!"

Heads turned, curious.

The fan clenched his fists. "It’s because he chose not to! He didn’t want to continue—he wanted to prove his worth once, and he did! That’s why he holds the title of Champion of Phase One!"

The werewolf supporters howled in agreement, thumping their chests. But the vampire side responded with laughter and jeers.

"Excuses!" one vampire noble sneered. "If he was truly great, he would’ve gone further. Stop sugar-coating his loss!"

The crowd split, half defending Korr’s pride, half mocking it. But no matter the argument, one truth was undeniable: Aamir had defeated him with ease.

The floating screen shifted as the next challengers stepped forward in Blood Valley—two more werewolves. One male, tall and lean with jet-black fur, his movements fast as lightning. The other, a female with snow-white fur and eyes like ice, her aura colder, more calculating than the brute force of Korr.

"Two more?" Aamir stretched his neck lazily. "Guess I’ll get a full workout today."

The male dashed first, a blur of shadows. His claws slashed in rapid succession, aiming for Aamir’s neck, chest, and legs all at once. The screen showed sparks flying as stone was shredded under his speed.

But Aamir didn’t even raise his hands. He stepped aside, twisted, and let the attacks carve nothing but air.

"Fast hands, slow brain," Aamir muttered before driving his knee upward.

CRACK!

The male werewolf’s jaw snapped sideways, his body flying back like a ragdoll, skidding across the bloodstone.

The arena erupted in gasps.

Before the dust settled, the female pounced. Her claws glowed faintly blue, laced with frost. She spun in midair, slashing a crescent arc of icy wind that sliced the valley floor.

"Better," Aamir admitted, finally raising his arm. With one swing, he shattered the frozen wave and caught her wrist mid-strike.

She snarled, fangs snapping at his throat. But Aamir’s other hand pressed gently on her shoulder—

BOOM!

The force slammed her into the ground, a crater forming under her body. She lay there, coughing blood, unable to rise.

The audience on both sides sat stunned. Three champions—defeated one after another.

On the floating screen, Aamir stood tall, brushing dust from his clothes.

"That’s three down," he said casually, his voice carrying even through the screen. "Anyone else?"

The vampires roared in approval, their cheers shaking the arena. Even some werewolves, though reluctant, bowed their heads at the display of dominance.

And in the midst of it all, fans still argued.

"Korr is still the champion of the first phase! Don’t forget that!" one shouted.

"Champion or not, he’s nowhere near Aamir’s level," another countered.

But deep down, everyone watching knew the truth—Aamir wasn’t just another fighter. He was a storm that none of the werewolf champions could withstand.

Aamir walked deeper into the forest of Blood Valley, the crimson mist curling low across the ground. The roars of the crowd from the distant arena had faded into faint echoes. Here, the silence was heavy, broken only by the crunch of bloodstone leaves under his boots.

He stretched his arms behind his head casually, as if he hadn’t just dismantled three werewolf champions.

"Haaah... and I thought this valley would be fun. Guess I overestimated them."

A sudden rustle.

From the shadows between the twisted blood-trees, figures emerged. Cloaked in dark crimson, their faces hidden by bone-white masks etched with runes. They moved without a word, surrounding him in a loose circle.

Aamir raised an eyebrow. "Oh? A welcoming committee already?"

No reply. Only killing intent.

In a flash, the masked warriors lunged—daggers glinting, claws extending unnaturally long, their speed far sharper than any of the werewolves before.

But Aamir didn’t even shift his stance.

BAM! CRACK! THUD!

Within seconds, the ground was littered with broken bodies. Aamir hadn’t even needed to draw on his full strength. He had moved like a blur—sidestepping, elbowing, flicking wrists, and each masked figure was knocked unconscious before they even realized what happened.

He crouched down beside one of them, tearing the mask away.

His eyes narrowed.

"...A vampire?"

He checked another. And another. All the same—pale skin, fangs, crimson eyes. Vampires.

Frowning, Aamir placed his palm over one of the fallen warriors. His eyes glowed faintly as he activated Appraisal.

Lines of information surfaced before him.

"Vampire... Rank C... Subordinate Soldier."

Aamir’s brows knitted. "What the hell? Why are vampires attacking me?"

Before he could think further, the forest trembled. Dozens more figures emerged between the trees, masks gleaming in the faint blood-red light. Their silent presence pressed down on the valley like a suffocating wave.

This wasn’t a random ambush. This was planned. Organized.

Aamir straightened, cracking his neck as his lazy grin returned.

"Tch. So that’s how it is, huh? Guess the real fun’s about to begin."

The masked vampires surged forward.

And Aamir stepped in to meet them.