Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!-Chapter 273: Sovereign

Pyris shot forward, a blur of raw power and speed, while the guardian mirrored his charge, its ominous aura thickening with every step. The sword suspended around the guardian floated alongside it, like a predator circling its prey, its edges glowing faintly with divine energy. When the two forces met, the guardian’s massive arm cocked back and delivered a devastating blow.

The sheer size of the fist was overwhelming; to Pyris, it was as if the world itself was coming to crush him.

With no time to hesitate, Pyris poured nearly all his mana into superspeed and void manipulation. His form shimmered as he sidestepped the strike, distorting the space around him.

But even with his effort, the guardian’s punch grazed his arm.

A sickening crack echoed through the arena as Pyris’s arm went limp, utterly broken. The pain lanced through him like wildfire, but he had narrowly avoided his skull being crushed. Before he could summon healing energy or even acknowledge his survival, the guardian twisted, its massive frame fluid despite its size.

A roundhouse kick swept above Pyris’s head, missing by a hair’s breadth, but the follow-up sweep connected, sending him sprawling to the ground. Explore more at novelbuddy

"Damn it!" Pyris growled as his back slammed against the cold, hard surface.

There was no respite. The guardian, towering over him like an executioner, rained down fist after fist with mechanical precision. Pyris barely dodged the first punch, which cratered the ground beneath him, sending dust and debris flying into his eyes. Blinded momentarily, he flailed in desperation, trying to avoid the successive blows. He failed.

The second fist landed squarely on his chest, driving the air from his lungs. A third smashed into his shoulder, nearly dislocating it. Three more punches found their mark on his ribs and face, each impact flattening him further into the ground. Blood spurted from his lips as groans of agony escaped him.

"Pyris..." Nysa’s voice broke the silence of the arena, barely above a whisper. She and the others watched in silent horror, unable to intervene. The sight of him, a warrior of unyielding will, now battered and crumpled, was a blow to their hearts.

But the worst was yet to come.

The guardian, sensing its prey on the verge of collapse, halted its relentless assault. Its knee pressed into Pyris’s stomach, pinning him in place. The divine energy emanating from it stifled his ability to heal, turning even his life energy into a trickle. He could barely move, much less defend himself. Slowly, methodically, the guardian reached for its sword.

The ominous blade hummed with power as it descended, ready to claim its victim.

"Sovereign!" Pyris’s voice, weak and strained, echoed across the chamber. The command seemed to come from his very soul, igniting a reaction. The blood he had bled, still pooling beneath him, shimmered with a crimson glow. In an instant, the blood morphed into two spears with infusion of void element, sharp and deadly, and shot toward the guardian’s glowing golden eyes.

The guardian, caught off guard, did something unthinkable—it let itself fall backward. The blood spears grazed its cheek beneath the hood, leaving shallow wounds but sparing its vision. The move was enough to buy Pyris a precious moment. With the guardian’s knee no longer pinning him, he propelled himself backward skidding on the arena floor, creating as much distance as he could. His chest heaved as he fell to one knee, pouring every ounce of his remaining mana and life energy into healing his battered body. His vision returned, but what he saw left him breathless.

The guardian’s cloak had been obliterated, revealing its fearsome visage. Its face was angular and alien, with ridges running down its cheeks and a mouth filled with sharp, jagged teeth. Its golden eyes, now fully exposed, glowed like molten lava, radiating a palpable aura of dominance. Blackened scars crisscrossed its face, and its skin seemed to shimmer like polished obsidian.

It wasn’t just a guardian; it was an ancient horror, carved from nightmares.

Pyris stared, his confidence wavering for the first time. He had given everything in this fight, yet here he was, bloodied and bruised, while the guardian stood as a monument to unyielding power. His heart pounded as despair threatened to take root.

But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever.

Gripping his sword tightly, he surged to his feet. "I’m not done yet," he growled, his voice tinged with defiance.

The guardian seemed to acknowledge his resolve with a slight tilt of its head. It had adapted; it knew Pyris’s earlier tricks would not work again. The air grew heavy with tension as the two combatants prepared for the next round.

This time, Pyris opted for a different approach. Relying purely on brute force wasn’t enough. He needed strategy. He infused his blade with magic, channeling lightning and fire into its edge, and launched forward.

The guardian met him head-on, its sword blazing with dark energy.

The arena turned into a battlefield of blinding light and shadow. Pyris’s blade crackled with lightning, each swing leaving trails of electricity that scorched the ground. The guardian parried each attack with inhuman precision, its own blade leaving arcs of dark energy in its wake. Their movements became a blur, the clash of their swords sending shockwaves rippling through the chamber.

At one point, Pyris feigned an overhead slash, forcing the guardian to block high. Using the earth element, he manipulated the ground beneath it, encasing its legs in stone. With the guardian momentarily immobilized, Pyris summoned a massive fireball in one hand while his sword crackled with lightning in the other. He unleashed both attacks simultaneously, the fiery explosion merging with the electric discharge to create a cataclysmic blast.

The force of the attack shook the room, sending debris flying everywhere. The guardian broke free of its restraints just as the blast struck, its form disappearing into the fiery chaos.

Pyris, gasping for breath, didn’t let his guard down. He knew better.

He had to buy as much time as possible while fooling the guardian, he was cooking—since the fight began, it’s called stalling as he had told the guardian.

As the smoke cleared, the guardian emerged, its armor scorched but its resolve unbroken. It nodded once, as if acknowledging Pyris’s tenacity. But Pyris knew-it was far from over.

The women watching the fight held their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests. Nysa’s hands clenched tightly as her eyes darted between the combatants. Zara whispered under her breath, already preparing spells in case Pyris fell.

But Pyris didn’t falter. Wiping the blood from his lips, he smirked. "Come on you divine mountain," he muttered, gripping his sword tighter.

And so, the dance continued. The guardian adapted, but so did Pyris. The clash of magic and steel became a symphony of destruction, each note louder and more chaotic than the last.

For Pyris though, the time was almost right...

*****

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