Reborn As The Villain-Chapter 329: SS - 15 Part 3: Overpowered

A/N: Point out any errors and I'll make sure to fix them.

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Arnold was standing in front of Breuk, who was sitting on the ground shirtless, a golden energy seeping from his body. The sweat on his face and upper body and the frowning expression he wore told others of his focused concentration.

Arnold could've killed Breuk in a thousand different ways if this were a real fight.

Upon using Warrior Sense, Arnold noticed a large amount of Ki was building up in Breuk's three dandians. They were becoming thicker with each stream of Ki being sent through his meridians. Whatever he was about to unleash was going to be huge. It felt a little unstable but Arnold couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe Sebas would've been able to say exactly what was wrong.

"Why isn't Nova attacking Breuk?" a person from the audience said out loud.

"I don't know. Maybe he wants to see Breuk's martial art?"

"But he's never showed it to anyone before."

"I heard a rumor that he's from the disbanded Mountain Sect. I can't remember what martial art they use though..."

"If that's true, that must be why he's so huge. No other sect produces these kinds of giant warriors."

"—Are you finally going to show the empire what martial arts you use?" Arnold sat down on the spot, "They seem interested in it as much as I am."

"..." Breuk continued staring at him as the sweat dripped from his face. He was wondering why his opponent wasn't attacking but decided to take the opportunity to build up his strength.

A low-levelled martial would suffocate sitting this close to Breuk since the Ki coming from his body was like poison to one's lungs. He was pushing out all the impure Ki to make room for pure Ki. Not every martial has to do this to fight as full strength, only the ones that have martial skills that require a lot of Ki or aura.

Since his martial art was a direct derivation of a pure martial art, he'd need insane amounts of Ki just to maintain its basic stances.

Arnold was familiar with this martial art because Bardolt used it. It was an incredibly powerful but unstable martial art.

The gimmick behind this martial art was: the heavier you are, the harder you punch. In theory, the martial god who created this martial art could become as heavy as a black hole and his punch could shatter everything several million lightyears across.

Naturally, this kind of power posed a significant risk to all inhabitants of the nine realms and sentient beings outside of it. There was no way to control the amount of power in your punch the moment your mass reaches a certain level you're used to.

This is why the Death God despises martial artists and the Martial Gods—like magic, martial arts have an infinite number of possibilities but is most likely to be more unstable than magic due to one's body being used to control the power, unlike magicians who use their minds and mana.

"..." Breuk suddenly stood up.

Overwhelming strength was overflowing from his body. He was twice Arnold's size and looked like an adult towering over a child.

He lifted his arm and balled his hand into a fist. It was slow, not because he was doing it deliberately but because his Ki had become so heavy that moving became difficult.

He swung down!

The ground under Arnold caved it and a rumble followed when his fist connected with Arnold's—

Hand?

"Tch!" his fist was caught quite easily, making him click his tongue and use his other fist.

Arnold sank deeper into the arena floor but barely flinched at Breuk's fully-powered attacks.

It didn't matter how much strength Breuk put into his muscles, his opponent barely budged.

Impossible.

Impossible!

"Haaaaah!" Breuk tried to kick Arnold in the stomach but that kick touched empty air.

He was suddenly hit in the side of the head and crashed into the arena floor, his face buried.

"Maybe you'll have a better chance with your weapon." After walking over to Breuk's war hammer, Arnold picked it up and threw it over at him.

it was so heavy that the floor under it collapsed after landing.

Rage consumed Breuk and he grabbed his weapon before charging at Arnold and trying to land another blow.

He had to end this quickly. He was much too slow in this state so short, powerful blows are all that he can manage.

Using the sharp end of his war hammer, he slammed it down on Arnold who parried it easily. The shockwave was sent up Breuk's arm almost making him drop the weapon.

But he didn't give up.

"!!" he used both hands to grip his weapon before slamming it down again with all his strength.

Yet again it was parried and a powerful shockwave went up his arm. It was absolutely ridiculous how much of a disparity there was between the two of them. Breuk was fighting with his all but Arnold wasn't even using his energy or martial art yet.

The audience was silent, watching the exchange in bewilderment.

"Guh!" a blow landed on Breuk's stomach, sending him flying back along with his weapon. He clutched his stomach and groaned.

"This does not feel like a victory." Arnold walked over to Breuk's weapon that was standing upright nearby. He picked it up before throwing it at Breuk for a second time, "Fight me like you want to kill me. Your blows are weak."

"!!!' Breuk roared, his blood rising from his throat and splattering everywhere.

A powerful shockwave erupted from his body when he grabbed his war hammer. His ferocious killing intent threatened to crush Arnold who was calm throughout the whole exchange. Of course, this calmness was just a front. He wanted to crush Breuk. To break every bone in his body. To teach him that he is beneath Endgame "Martial God Candidate" Arnold von Berkley.

But this was a fight he was looking forward to. He won't be satisfied with anything less.

Arnold activated his own martial arts—

[Flow of the Tide]

Blue energy surrounded his body like a wave twisting around a tornado. Blue veins spread all over his body and his eyes shined in a light blue radiance.

In contrast, a golden tide of energy surrounded Breuk's body trying to clash with Arnold's more chaotic energy.

The people in the crowd could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't confident in beating this monster but he wasn't going to give up.

A martial giving up his dignity to run away is frowned down upon. For Mian Xi, no one batted an eye because they knew why she did it but for Breuk who was proclaimed to be the strongest martial in the empire, it was a disgrace.

"Graaaaahhhh!" he roared as he jumped, holding up his War Hammer with both hands. The ground beneath him shattered and debris shot up. His shadow was like a meteor plummeting to the ground.

A deafening boom echoed through the arena as their weapons clashed, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Breuk's full strength bore down on Arnold, yet Arnold met it with a single arm, effortlessly deflecting the attack, staying calm throughout the exchange. His sheer physical dominance was undeniable, and Breuk's expression twisted in frustration as his arm was thrown back.

Aiming for a diagonal slash, Breuk twisted his body from the back to the side and sent his all into that blow. However, the attack went right through Arnold—no, it seemed as if he disappeared for a moment and appeared the next.

"!!' Roaring again like a madman, Breuk did a full spin and did a downward slash, "Gck!?"

Arnold expertly moved through his attack like a leaf that could not be grabbed, aiming for Breuk's wrist. But he managed to twist his forearm so that the attack hit his gauntlet instead.

Noticing the smug smirk on his opponent's face, Breuk grunted, but his determination undeterred.

He was well aware he could've been cut down if his opponent wasn't holding back.

But there was no use thinking so hard on it.

He slammed his foot into the ground, shattering the arena floor. Cracks snaked out in all directions, leaving jagged, unstable terrain that threatened to tip the balance of the fight.

Arnold leapt into the air, avoiding the broken ground below. As he rose, his shadow lengthened unnaturally, overtaken by a massive one that loomed across the arena. His eyes darted upward, catching a glimpse of Breuk's form accelerating toward him with shocking speed.

"Even after increasing your mass, you can still move this quic—" Arnold's words were cut short as Breuk's weapon came crashing down. He raised his arm just in time to block, but the force hurled him backward. His body slammed into the arena's barrier, which shimmered like fragile glass but held firm.

Arnold straightened, summoning an Aether Shield with a fluid motion. The shimmering energy surrounded him, its radiance contrasting sharply with the dark arena. But Breuk was relentless. He followed through immediately, bounding toward Arnold like a beast refusing to relent.

Arnold countered with a burst of power, conjuring fifty glowing Aether arrows. Each one hovered for a moment before shooting toward Breuk in rapid succession.

"!" Breuk twisted in mid-air, letting some arrows graze his armor while others pierced his body. Despite the damage, he barely faltered, his eyes burning with determination. As he descended, he swung his weapon in a wide arc, the sheer velocity creating a cutting wind.

Arnold met the impossible strike head-on, parrying with a calm precision that made the crowd gasp. The clang reverberated through the arena as sparks flew from their weapons. Taking advantage of Breuk's momentary imbalance, Arnold's leg shot out in a brutal kick that launched Breuk into the ruined arena floor. The ground cracked further under the impact, sending up clouds of dust and debris.

A second later, Breuk emerged from the haze, his weapon discarded. Over his arm, a massive, golden, translucent fist materialized, radiating an almost divine energy. Breuk drew back his arm, the fist mimicking his movement with a weighty tension that seemed to make the air itself quiver.

Without hesitation, Arnold charged forward, pulling back his own fist. Both warriors moved with unyielding purpose, their attacks colliding in a brilliant flash of raw power. The resulting shockwave shook the barrier, rattling the teeth of the onlookers and making their breaths catch.

The crowd erupted in awed murmurs:

"A-Amazing. It's like watching gods clash in the heavens," one man muttered, gripping the edge of his seat.

"Even the exaggerated legends of the ancient martials don't compare to this," another added, his tone disbelieving.

In the front row, a young boy with a wooden sword clutched it tightly, his eyes wide with wonder. "I wonder if I can become as strong as Lord Nova someday!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with innocent hope.

"Don't worry, sweetie," his mother replied, forcing a smile to hide the impossibility of the boy's dream. "I'm sure you can."

It was said that geniuses like Nova and Breuk were only born once every century. A commoner boy from a fishing village could never attain this level of strength in a mere decade.

It was unthinkable for a man who was probably in his early twenties to have reached a level beyond Celestial Saint.

"What do all of you think?" Ko looked toward the corner of the room, where half a dozen robed figures stood. The other half were in the palace, protecting his "most important place". They were his Inner Martials, with three being Celestial Saints, while the rest varied in strength.

One replied, "Your Majesty, the power displayed here far surpasses our comprehension given how young the boy is. Nova fights with a mastery that belies his youth, like a master who spent decades in the mountains doing nothing but training."

Another added, "The ease with which he handles Breuk's ferocity... It is clear that he has not even begun to exert himself fully. Breuk, who we deem a viable candidate to join our ranks, is being treated as little more than a sparring partner."

"I feel ashamed that I held Breuk in such high regard." A third remarked.

...

Arnold wasn't using that much physical strength at the moment because he knew he would crush Breuk instantly. He knew what Breuk's martial art could do but he didn't know what other kind of martial skills were in its skill tree. If it was anything like Sebastian's martial art, he'd be left disappointed because that martial art was already overpowered even when unlocking the Fourth Finger. He had the first finger unlocked which only gave a boost in power but as mentioned before, only the third finger will unleash the martial art's full potential.

In the end, he decided to see what else Breuk could do since Sebas' martial art was useless to him now that he's the strongest mortal in existence currently.

Clank—

Their weapons connected again, and just like all the times before, Breuk felt the full brunt of Arnold's superior physical strength. The impact rattled through his arms, threatening to disarm him entirely.

"WHY!" Breuk shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of desperation and anger. Despite knowing the disparity in their power, he refused to relent. Swing after swing, his weapon lashed out, each strike heavier, more reckless. "Why are you so strong!? I've dedicated my entire life to martial arts, poured everything into perfecting my techniques as a youngin'—and yet!"

Arnold parried every blow with casual ease, Luxtivin's polished edge showing not even a scratch, while Breuk's weapon chipped further with each failed strike. His weapon was close to crumbling, the strain of his relentless assault and Luxtivin's superior durability pushing it to its limits.

Arnold tilted his head, his calm demeanor contrasting Breuk's fury. "If this is all your martial art has to offer, then I'll end this quickly. Or better yet—" He raised Luxtivin slightly, letting its edge glint menacingly in the light. "You should forfeit. That way, you wouldn't have to endure this humiliation any longer."

"I will not throw away my honor and run!" Breuk roared, his next attack carrying a ferocity far greater than before. The force behind it was desperate, wild, but also determined.

Clang!

Arnold sidestepped smoothly before driving his fist into Breuk's gut. The punch landed with a thunderous impact, sending Breuk flying back like a ragdoll. He crashed into the shimmering barrier surrounding the arena, sliding down to the ground, coughing violently.

"Keuk!"

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Arnold slowly lowered his hand, flexing his fingers as if shaking off the weight of the exchange. His gaze shifted toward Breuk, who was struggling to get back to his feet, then upward to the audience watching with bated breath.

"Honor," Arnold repeated, his tone carrying disdain. He began walking toward Breuk, his steps deliberate, his voice rising so that all could hear. "What does 'honor' mean to you all?"

He stopped and spread his arms wide, addressing the crowd more than his opponent. "Is it the fear of disgracing your ancestors—the ones who created the martial arts you cling to so desperately? Is it a desire to uphold your so-called integrity, even when you know it will lead to your defeat? No? Then what is it?"

He pointed at Breuk, "Could this be what honor is to you? To persevere through any humiliation and injury for the sake of your own pride? Who are you impressing exactly? Imagine dying because you fought to protect others. That's just satisfying your own pride and wanting to feel like you did something. Honor and pride go hand in hand because it makes someone stubborn. But will you persevere through that stubbornness for the sake of preserving your honor no matter how battered you are and no matter how many limbs you lose?"

No one said anything in response.

"But let me tell you what honor really is."

He turned his gaze upward, addressing the crowd again. "Honor is power. The power you wield and how you choose to use it. It's not some abstract ideal or a set of rules passed down by the dead. It's the strength to stand above others and the will to decide what that strength means."

Deep within his soul, he knew he was starting to sound like "Endgame Arnold".

He shifted his focus back to Breuk, "Your so-called honor has done nothing but chain you. You're bound by expectations, by tradition, by fear. That's not power—it's weakness and stubbornness. Something a warrior should be ashamed by."

Breuk gritted his teeth, struggling to push himself up. "And what of you? You think your strength alone makes you honorable!?"

"That's right." He said without a moment's delay, "I am powerful. More powerful that any human in these nine realms. The very fact that I'm not choosing to kill you and the others I've beaten so far means I am honorable. I do not need to bow my head to your kind. Not you nor the emperor because I am above you. Yet I still do so. That is also honor."

The soul from Earth would cringe hearing this stereotypical edgy line that's only ever present in manga and light novels.

The people in the audience seats looked up at Ko. But the emperor seemed unperturbed to what he was saying.

"His Majesty was right to kill the old sects. The current generation has no idea what honor is due to their teachings. The only ones who get to decide what honor is, are the strong. You are not even close to deserving that privilege, weakling."

Back at the VIP room, there was an awkward atmosphere. Ko frowned, the bitterness in his heart stirring once again. His actions, born of necessity and painful choices, were dismissed as lightly as if they were mere whims. None of them understood—none of them could grasp the weight of the burden he carried. Yet, he held his tongue, his eyes fixed intently on the match unfolding before him. A storm brewed within him, but he allowed no sign of it to show.

To Ko, honor meant sacrifice. To expand upon this—having the courage to sacrifice for the sake of strength.

Perhaps there isn't just one meaning depending on the martial and what they stand for.

Breuk, standing opposite, trembled, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles whitened. The weight of those words pressed down on him, but this time, they did not break him. He is an unmovable mountain. "I might have agreed with you once," he said, his voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overtake him. "When I was still the snot-nosed brat who sought glory before the war. But now... Strength is no longer honor to me!"

As he spoke, a torrent of golden energy erupted from his body, swirling like a raging storm. The sheer force of his power caused the ground beneath him to crack and shatter, leaving deep fissures that spread outward like a spider's web. The arena trembled violently, and the barriers surrounding it flickered, their stability challenged by the raw energy radiating from him.

Ko's eyes narrowed as he observed the spectacle. He had heard of this technique but had dismissed it as legend. 'The Mountainous Fist has a suicide skill. I thought that was only a rumor.'

Breuk's energy surged as he raised his fists high, then brought them together with an earth-shattering roar. The collision sent shockwaves rippling through the air, shaking the very foundations of the empire. Dust and debris were thrown skyward, and the protective barriers groaned under the strain, the air itself shimmering with the aftershocks of his raw power.

But this was no mere display of anger, no primitive outburst of emotion. Breuk's actions were deliberate. The moment his fists collided, all the mass and energy he wielded converged at a single point, compressing with terrifying intensity and unnerving calm. It was like a spark igniting a fire in dry timber—a singularity forming in the heart of the storm.

Above his hand, a tiny black marble-like object materialized, dense and ominous.

[Sacrificial Black Hole Fists]

Ko's downturned lips distorted further. He knew the cost of that skill. Breuk was ready to sacrifice everything—his Ki, his lifeforce, his very essence as a martial artist. The technique would not claim his life, but it would strip him of what made him who he was. To wield it was to burn away the potential for growth, to sever the path forward. It was, in every sense, a final act of desperation.

In his eyes, this must've been "honor".

But to preserving his honor—no, pride—he would prevent Ko from obtaining another powerful piece to aid him in his inevitable final clash with "that being".

The marble hovered above his hand, spinning rapidly, its pull threatening to consume everything in its vicinity. The very air seemed to twist and distort around it, as though reality itself bent to its will.

Ko's gaze flickered between Breuk and the growing black hole. For a brief moment, he felt something alien stir within him—not fear, but respect. Breuk had changed, and the boy Ko once knew was gone. In his place stood a man willing to destroy himself for what he believed in.

Arnold, standing at the opposite end of the arena, remained silent, his expression unreadable. The weight of the situation was palpable, and the tension in the air grew unbearable. Everyone watching, from the highest officials to the lowliest spectators, held their breath.

"—You've displayed your honor yet you cannot tell me exactly what it is." A voice came from right in front of Breuk.

"—Huh?" Breuk looked at Arnold's hand that was trapping the black hole, blankly. That mass ball of destruction that could kill thousands in a heartbeat... No way.

"You were about to sacrifice your life just to defeat me?" Arnold beckoned behind Breuk.

Breuk turned around and looked at the person standing behind him, the touch of death on his neck.

It was the Emperor Ko Johun, his hand targeting Breuk's neck in a striking position, ready to end him.

'This boy... He appeared in front of Breuk before I did.'

Without struggle or fear, Arnold crushed the black hole that was about to consume this entire empire just because of the rashness of a giant brute. There was no need for him to step in but to have such a powerful martial with potential get killed would be a waste.

Sebastian might be able to teach this guy a thing or two about perfecting his martial arts and what "honor" is.

Breuk fell to his knees with a blank expression. He was ready to put his martial potential on the line all for the sake of defeating this impossible monster. Even though he was sitting on his knees, his opponent was standing at eye-level but when looking at his opponent, it felt like he was looking up at a towering martial god that just taught an arrogant mortal a lesson with ease.

When looking at the hand that crushed that skill, there was only a burned mark on his palm.

"Now then—" Arnold pointed Luxtivin at Breuk's neck, "Do you yield?"