The tournament raged on. The colossal arena, a construct of Adam's will and the thoughts of 6 billion gods, continued its relentless fights of the demigods.

The first few million matches had been a flurry of chaotic, desperate battles.

Sunny, observing from his high throne noted that even his own demigods were not immune to the brutal logic of the tournament.

A demigod of agriculture, a gentle being whose talents were to nurture fertile soil and accelerate the growth of crops, found himself teleported into a volcanic hellscape.

His opponent, a hulking fire-elemental golem, hadn't even registered him as a threat before its passive aura of incinerating heat caused the harvest god to shatter and eliminating him from the competition. He had lost before the battle ever truly began.

As the matches unfolded, a pattern emerged. The newer demigods of the races, those Sunny had created for the sole purpose of creating a demigod for each race, were struggling.

They had not had the centuries of accelerated Veridian time to copy or learn new talents.

They were powerful, yes, but due to less talents and experience, they were falling short in front of other DemiGods.

But the old, core demigods of Veridia, the pillars of Sunny's empire was another story entirely.

They possessed dozens of talents, some copied, some learned, their power honed by challenges and blessed by their master. And now, it was time for one of his top champions to take the stage.

The arena screens focused, and a name flashed that sent a ripple of excitement through the trillions of watching souls. Loki.

The audience cheered, a thunderous roar of anticipation. They had all seen the highlights of his previous, mischievous exploits.

He was not just a warrior; he was a performer, a jester whose cruelty was as entertaining as it was terrifying.

He materialized on a tiny, lone island in the center of an arena that was ninety percent an open ocean. A grim, challenging biome for any land-based creature.

His opponent was a magnificent and terrifying sight: a colossal, serpentine Water Dragon, its azure scales shimmering with light, its horns like jagged coral, its eyes burning with an predatory arrogance. It was like a true master of the ocean.

The dragon, seeing its opponent, and the arena that was its personal kingdom, let out a triumphant roar.

It didn't give Loki a single instant to think, to morph, or to steal. It attacked immediately.

The entire ocean rose to its command. A thousand razor-sharp blades of pressurized water, each one a liquid guillotine, sliced at Loki from every conceivable angle.

But Loki just smiled, a look of profound, almost insulting, boredom on his face.

For a being like him, who had stol... acquired hundreds of skills and talents, this was not a battle. This was a playground. He stood, arms crossed, and let the attack hit.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The water blades, sharp enough to cleave a mountain, shattered harmlessly against his skin, which now shimmered with a faint, golden sheen; a defensive talent he had "borrowed" from a long-dead demon demigod he'd encountered in his travels.

"Are you trying to tickle me?" Loki's voice, laced with laughter, echoed across the water. He loved this.

He didn't use transformation to win; he used it for fun. He lived for the moment his opponent's confident, arrogant face crumpled into confusion, then into despair, as they realized the fundamental laws of their reality no longer applied.

The Water Dragon, a proud being, roared in fury. Its opponent was not just defending; he was mocking him. He decided to end this.

He reared back, his massive form coiling, and opened his jaws. A sphere of churning water, a miniature ocean compressed into a single, devastating orb, began to form.

It grew in size until it was larger than the island itself, the sheer gravitational pull of the mass of water causing the air to scream.

The sphere flew, a colossal, world-ending projectile, falling from the sky.

Loki, still looking unimpressed, simply stood there, a smirk on his face. The dragon chuckled, a deep, arrogant rumble. It had won.

And then, the island beneath Loki's feet, unable to bear the weight of the water moon above it, exploded. It cracked and gave way, plunging Loki into the dark depth of the ocean.

For a moment, the only sound was the dragon's triumphant laughter. And then, a new voice, a deep, amused chuckle, seemed to come from the water itself.

"Do you really think," the voice of the ocean whispered, "that if I fall into your ocean, I will be at a disadvantage?"

The dragon's laughter died in its throat. A deep, primal frown appeared on its dragon face.

It looked down into the dark water, sensing a presence, something else, something impossibly large and ancient and... hungry.

The water, its own domain, suddenly felt alien, terrifying. The fear of the unknown, an emotion it had never once felt in its long life, gripped its heart.

"Wh-where are you?" the dragon stammered, its arrogance gone.

"Don't fear," a voice, as deep and cold as the abyssal trench, echoed from every direction. "You thought you were the king of this ocean. The entity I have transformed into thought so, too. But he died in the end. And now, so will you."

The ocean erupted. A single, colossal, glistening black tentacle, thicker than a mountain range, shot from the depths and wrapped around the dragon's serpentine body.

Then another. And another. The Water Dragon, a being that had commanded this ocean, was now a mere fish, caught in a net the size of a continent.

It looked down and saw, in the abyss, a single malevolent eye, the size of a moon, staring back at it.

Loki had become the King of the Deep Oceans. He had become the Kraken.

The dragon struggled, unleashing its magic, but it was useless. The tentacles, infused with Loki's own magic-stealing properties, simply crushed its body, its bones snapping, its scales cracking.

It was being suffocated, not by the lack of air, but by the sheer force of a being that defied comprehension.

"I... surre..." the dragon gurgled, its voice a desperate, choked plea. Before it could finish the word, another, smaller tentacle shot forward with terrifying speed, forcing its way into the dragon's mouth, choking off its words and its breath, a final, brutal act of humiliation.

"Think of this as your punishment," Loki's voice echoed in the dragon's mind, "for making me wet.... No, for making me get into the water." He then transformed back, his small, pristine humanoid form landing gracefully on the now-unconscious dragon's head.

The dragon's body, released, crashed into the water, he was unconscious from the the humiliation that Loki had given him.

"Loki has won this match," Adam announced, his voice holding a hint of weary amusement.

The live chat, after a long moment of stunned silence, finally exploded in a fiery debate.

Lifeform2783: "Wasn't that… too cruel? He had already won. The torture wasn't necessary. This is just a tournament between allies, right?"

Lifeform28939: "What are you talking about, you fool?! That was a lesson! He showed us the tip of the iceberg! That's the kind of power we need to fight the real enemies, the demons! He showed us what absolute dominance looks like!"

Lifeform72839: "I agree with both of you, but can you all just shut the fck up?! I'm trying to focus on the next match!"*

The arena dissolved and reformed, and the next two contestants appeared. One was a massive, hulking figure, radiating a familiar, kingly aura. It was Ragnok, the King of Solara.

His opponent was a being of breathtaking, terrifying beauty. It was a giant, angelic figure, at least ten times Ragnok's size, with six pristine white wings that seemed to radiate a gentle, holy light. Its face was a mask of flawless, handsome perfection.

Ragnok, a king himself, recognized a being of immense power. He willed a flight spell into existence and soared into the sky, rising until he was eye-level with the angelic demigod, a gesture of respect between equals.

His own king's aura flared, a tangible pressure of leadership and unshakeable resolve.

"I do not like that arrogant gaze of yours," Ragnok said, his voice a low growl as he looked into the angel's cold, dismissive eyes.

The angel looked at him, and its beautiful, melodious voice echoed in the arena, but its words were filled with holy poison.

"Oh, lucky me. I get a weak, half-breed lifeform who has just crawled into the demigod realm as my first opponent." For a second, the lifeforms in the audience, mesmerized by the angel's voice, nodded in agreement.

A malicious grin, a mismatch with its perfect, handsome face, spread across the angel's lips.

"How should I kill you, I wonder? I am so tired of fighting with morals anyway. Amuse me for a moment, little demigod, and I shall grant you the honor of a swift death. It is the best thing that you can aquire using one of your nine lives"

Ragnok stopped, his magic faltering. He looked at this beautiful, "perfect" being, this creature of "light." And he remembered the words of his Emperor, God Cosmos, spoken to Medusa so long ago:

'It is not the power or race that decides the nature of the lifeform, it's their own consciousness.'

He looked at this angel, and he saw a monster, a being as dark and cruel as any demon he had ever faced.

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