I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space

Chapter 324: Match

Arthur rose fully onto his feet, rolling his shoulders once as he settled into a proper guard. The playful arrogance from before was gone now, replaced by something sharp and focused. His gaze locked onto Razeal, moving slowly from head to toe, as if trying to peel him apart layer by layer and understand what exactly he was dealing with. Someone this strong, appearing out of nowhere, at this age it didn’t fit any pattern Arthur knew.

Still, despite having been forced to one knee only moments ago, his expression didn’t crack nor was there any embarrassment nor any spilling over his face. If anything, his eyes burned brighter.

“Alright,” Arthur said at last, voice steady, controlled. “You’re not bad.”

He straightened a little more as chin lifting. “But don’t get it twisted and start calling me weak. Its just that my guard was down earlier. That’s the only reason you managed to do that. If I’d been serious from the start…” A faint, confident smirk tugged at his lips. “There’s no way you would’ve landed that strike.”

As he spoke, his right hand reached back, fingers closing around the shaft of the spear strapped behind him. With a smooth motion, he pulled it free. The weapon shimmered faintly in the water long, silver, perfectly balanced. Arthur gripped it with both hands and shifted his stance, feet spreading, knees bending just enough to ground himself. The spear’s tip leveled forward, aimed squarely at Razeal’s chest.

“Your name,” Arthur continued, eyes never leaving him. “Razeal, right?”

He nodded to himself. “Your physical talent is impressive. At your age, reaching this level… honestly, I’d already have passed you if this were just a strength evaluation.” His tone sharpened. “But this is a combat test. Not a strength contest.”

Arthur’s gaze hardened further, something personal slipping into it now. “And from what you said earlier, it sounds like my sister sent you here. To win.” His grip tightened around the spear. “So as her brother, it’s my right to examine you properly and more thoroughly.”

The water around him trembled.

Then he vanished.

One moment Arthur was standing there, spear leveled. The next, his figure blurred, water splitting violently in his wake as he shot forward. The spear came down in a vertical arc, aimed straight at Razeal’s head, the force behind it so dense it distorted the water itself.

“Still a hundred years too early,” Razeal said calmly.

He moved.

Not a leap. Not a dash. Just a simple step to the side.

The spear crashed down where he had been standing, missing him by less than a breath. Arthur reappeared behind him, already twisting his body mid-motion.

“Haha,” Arthur laughed, genuine excitement flashing across his face as his attack failed. “Good. I wouldn’t like it if it were that easy either.”

His grin widened as he pivoted on one foot, spine bending backward at an unnatural angle. With one hand now, he swung the spear around in a brutal horizontal arc, the sheer force of it causing the metal shaft to flex slightly. Water exploded outward from the swing, ripples tearing through the arena as the spear lunged straight for Razeal’s center.

Razeal watched it come.

Then he took one step back.

The spear’s edge passed in front of his stomach so close it stirred his clothes, the pressure brushing against his cloth yet it never touched him. Razeal stood there, calm, unbothered, as if nothing noteworthy had just happened.

Arthur didn’t stop.

He surged forward again, attacks chaining one after another. Thrusts, slashes, sweeps his spear became a blur of silver light. He attacked from above, from below, from the sides, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next. When a thrust missed, the shaft twisted mid-motion into a sweeping arc. When a swing failed, the spear flicked forward into a precise point strike.

At one moment, Arthur hurled the spear outright.

It screamed through the water toward Razeal’s chest.

Razeal shifted half a step.

The spear missed.

Arthur was already moving, body flashing behind Razeal in an instant, hand snapping out to catch the returning weapon mid-air before spinning and attacking again from a new angle.

The assault was relentless.

From the spectators’ perspective, it was chaos. Most of them couldn’t even follow what was happening. To their eyes, Arthur was everywhere at once, his spear carving through the water in countless streaks of silver. Attacks came from every possible direction, overlapping, stacking, leaving no visible gaps.

And yet

Not a single strike landed.

Razeal barely moved.

A tilt of the head.

A shift of the shoulder.

A step forward, then back.

Each motion was minimal, precise, almost lazy. He didn’t even retreat wildly or dodge with exaggerated movements. He just simply… wasn’t there when the spear passed. It was as if Arthur was attacking a phantom that dissolved the moment his weapon reached it.

Inside, Razeal remained completely calm.

To him, this wasn’t overwhelming at all.

With his high-level perception, the world around him felt slow too slow. He didn’t need to see every strike. He felt them. The flow of water, the pressure changes, the intent carried through Arthur’s movements. Keen hearing caught the subtle distortions in the water before each attack. Flow sensing mapped the trajectory before the spear even completed its swing.

And his body responded instantly.

Years of survival, countless near-death situations in system training function, and relentless combat experience made this feel almost trivial. His reactions were automatic, ingrained deeper than thought. Compared to what he’d faced before, this was… manageable.

Finally, after several more seconds of that relentless exchange, Arthur slid to a halt at a considerable distance from Razeal. The water around his feet settled slowly, faint ripples spreading outward as his breathing steadied. He straightened, spear still held firmly in his hands, and stared at Razeal with a deep frown carved into his face.

For the first time since the fight began, genuine confusion crept into his eyes.

“Just… how are you doing this?” Arthur asked, his voice lower now, stripped of most of its earlier arrogance. There was no mockery in the question.. only disbelief.

He tightened his grip on the spear unconsciously. In his mind, the exchange replayed again and again. Thousands of strikes. Every angle. Every variation. Thrusts meant to hit, sweeps meant to break his face, feints layered atop real attacks. He had pushed his speed to the limit, far beyond what most Saint-level fighters could even perceive.

And yet not once had he landed a clean hit.

That wasn’t just rare anymore now it was starting to feel wrong at this point.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he studied Razeal more carefully now, no longer seeing him as an kid or an annoyance, but as an anomaly. He could tell he was certain of it.. that Razeal wasn’t faster than him. Not even close. In fact, in terms of raw movement speed, Arthur could see he had the advantage. He could feel it in those brief moments when Razeal dodged by inches rather than meters, when his body shifted just barely enough to evade.

Which made it even more disturbing.

It felt as if the man in front of him already knew where the spear would go before Arthur himself committed to the motion. Like he was watching the future unfold in advance and stepping aside calmly, without panic, without urgency. No wasted movement. No hesitation.

Arthur exhaled sharply through his nose.

Razeal, meanwhile, looked almost bored.

“I don’t know,” he replied, spreading his hands slightly, palms open in a lazy, almost dismissive gesture. “Maybe it’s just… a skill issue?”

Arthur’s lips twitched.

Just once. A tiny, involuntary reaction but it was enough. A vein pulsed faintly near his temple as irritation flared back to life.

“Hah. Sure,” Arthur said with a scoff, forcing a crooked grin back onto his face. “But dodging alone isn’t going to solve anything for you.”

He took a step forward, then another, beginning to circle Razeal again slow at first, then faster. His figure blurred as he moved right, then left, then behind, his footwork precise and fluid, the spear never wavering from its threatening alignment.

“You still need to hit me,” Arthur continued, his voice echoing faintly through the arena. “And with that speed of yours? You’re never going to touch me.”

The taunt was deliberate.

Arthur accelerated, moving in wide arcs around Razeal, his speed increasing until most spectators could barely track him at all. To them, it looked as if Arthur was everywhere at once a streak of blue and silver orbiting a calm, unmoving center.

Razeal’s head turned slowly, his gaze following Arthur’s movement with unsettling accuracy. His eyes alone kept pace, tracking every shift, every change in direction, even as his body remained still.

Well he was already aware Arthur was faster then him.. Obviously once he saw this attributes he was sure about it

Name: Arthur Neptune

Strength: SS– (Saint Peak Stage)

Agility: SS– (Saint Peak Stage)

Endurance: SS+ (Royal Atlantean Physique)

Will: S (Prince of Atlantis)

Mental: S–

And then he looked at his own

Name: Razeal

Strength: SS (Saint King – Early Stage)

Agility: S+

Endurance: SSS (Half-Immortal – Natural death is impossible)

Will: SS– (Will of the Purest and Noblest Being)

Mental: SS+ (Enhanced naturally due to Vampire Progenitor lineage and Pure Origin)

[Note: Each rank is divided into four primary stages: Early, Mid, Late, and Peak.

Advancement between stages results in a substantial increase in strength, with later stages being exponentially more powerful than earlier ones. In many cases, a higher stage may surpass a lower stage by several multiples. As overall rank increases, the disparity in power between each stage grows correspondingly wider.]

At a glance, the conclusion was obvious.

In raw power, Razeal was superior. His strength had already stepped into the Saint King rank, even if only at the early stage. His endurance was on an entirely different level altogether something that bordered on absurd. Arthur, for all his talent, simply couldn’t match that.

But agility

That was where the gap truly lay.

Arthur’s speed was overwhelming. Peak Saint-level agility meant he could reposition, accelerate, and strike far faster than Razeal’s body was naturally capable of following. Razeal hadn’t even reached the Saint threshold in agility yet. The difference wasn’t minor it was massive.

If this were a simple contest of speed, Arthur would dominate.

Razeal knew that.

But still it wasn’t that big thing to worry honestly.

He already had many alternative paths for himself. He could pour dark mana into his shadow, accelerate his movement by using shadow abilities. He could distort positioning, using shadow travels or even use flow related skills, move in ways Arthur wouldn’t even comprehend.

But

This was a physical-only test.

The king was watching. Closely.

Razeal didn’t know how much King Julius could perceive, but he wasn’t going to gamble on it. Using abilities beyond pure physicality here wasn’t worth the risk. Getting disqualified now would only complicate things further.. If not he had many ways to win this easily.. Its just he wants to win only physically.

So instead, Razeal just stood there, one hand idly rubbing his chin, as if he were thinking through an inconvenience..

Arthur continued circling him, faster now, deliberately pushing the pressure, trying to provoke a reaction. His spear hummed faintly through the water with each shift, his presence pressing in from all sides.

“Come on now,” Arthur called out mockingly. “Why are you just standing there? What? Are you scared now that you’ll lose face if you can’t catch me?” His lips curled into a taunting grin as he accelerated again, deliberately passing behind Razeal, then reappearing to his side. “Or is this some grand strategy of yours? Trying to tire me out or something?”

“Attack me already. How am I supposed to examine your combat skills if you won’t even try to hit me?”

The words were loud, meant for the entire colosseum to hear. A prince scolding an insolent challenger. To the spectators, it looked like Arthur was completely in control dictating the pace, mocking his opponent, forcing him into passivity.

Razeal, however, barely reacted. He only shook his head

This loudmouth…

If Razeal were allowed to use his shadow ability freely, this fight would have ended moments ago. Arthur wouldn’t be running circles, shouting nonsense. He’d be pinned to the ground, wrapped in shadows like living chains, every movement crushed before it even began. Tentacles of darkness could have surged up from beneath the arena floor, immobilizing him in an instant.

But this wasn’t that kind of fight.

And Razeal didn’t need that kind of power to defeat this idIot anyway.

He watched Arthur’s movement with calm, predatory focus, not tracking speed, but rhythm. Timing. The subtle shift in intent that always preceded a real attack. Arthur was fast.. very fast

Just need one chance and it be game over for this dumbassssss.. Razeal thought.

As if answering that thought, Arthur suddenly changed.

The circling stopped.

For a fraction of a second so brief that most spectators missed it Arthur’s movement pattern broke. His speed dipped, not in velocity, but in intent. No feint. No testing jab.

A real attack.

Arthur appeared directly behind Razeal, his presence erupting like a sudden pressure spike. His spear was already in motion, held low in his right hand as he drove it forward in a sharp, precise thrust aimed deliberately away from vital points.. clean, controlled, meant to wound rather than kill obviously.

Razeal’s eyes flashed.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Got you,” Razeal muttered under his breath.

He twisted to the right at the last possible instant. The spear screamed past his left shoulder, missing by less than an inch, the displaced water grazing his skin with sharp pressure. To anyone watching, it looked like another narrow dodge.

But this time

Razeal didn’t let it pass.

His body shifted again, faster now, more decisive. His right hand snapped out, fingers closing around the shaft of the spear mid-thrust.

The weapon stopped.

Not slowed.

Just instant stop.

Arthur’s eyes widened.

For a split second, disbelief froze him in place. The force behind that thrust had been monstrous enough to tear through stone, enough that even glancing contact could have shredded flesh and bone. Catching it barehanded should have been suicide.

Yet there it was.

Razeal’s hand clenched around the spear as if it were nothing more than a wooden rod. No blood. No tearing skin. Not even a tremor.

What the

Arthur felt it immediately. The absolute, immovable resistance transmitted through the spear. It was like striking a mountain head-on.

How strong is this bastard’s body…?

The thought barely had time to form before instinct screamed at him to let go. Arthur’s grip loosened reflexively, his body already preparing to disengage

but it was too late.

Razeal’s lips curled upward.

With a sharp yank, he pulled the spear toward himself.

The sudden force shattered Arthur’s balance. His body lurched forward violently, dragged by the weapon still in his hands. His eyes met Razeal’s

Fuck.. Arthur barely had time to curse before Razeal’s fist filled his vision.

The punch landed.

BAAAAAMMM

The sound was deafening.

It wasn’t just a strike it was an explosion of raw physical force. Water compressed and detonated outward from the point of impact, sending shockwaves rippling across the arena floor. Arthur’s body was launched backward like a cannonball, his form blurring as he was hurled through the water at terrifying speed.

He flew.

Straight toward the colosseum wall.. two, three hundred meters away.

Spectators gasped, some rising to their feet in shock as Arthur’s body tore through the arena space, unstoppable, uncontrolled. Had nothing intervened, he would have slammed directly into the structure itself.

But before that could happen

He hit something invisible.

The airbor rather, the water shuddered violently as Arthur collided with a massive, unseen barrier. The king’s protective field flared faintly under the impact, rippling like a struck drum. Another thunderous boom echoed as Arthur’s body rebounded, crashing down hard onto the arena floor below.

Stone cracked.

Water surged.

And then

Silence.

—-

“That definitely had to hurt your boy,” Merisa remarked from above, her voice calm and unhurried as her gaze remained fixed on the arena below.

King Julius coughed awkwardly, the sound a little too deliberate to be natural. His eyes lingered on the distant figure of Arthur sprawled against the arena floor before he forced a smile back onto his face, smoothing his long beard as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Do not worry, Lady Merisa,” he said, tone steady but strained. “Arthur was born with a Royal Atlantean physique. This much won’t do much to him. He has taken far heavier blows than that during training with me.”

He paused, then added, almost reluctantly, “Though… never to the face.. like that.”

Merisa just smiled as she looked, one leg still crossed over the other, fingers resting lightly against the arm of her throne. “That must be because your son promised,” she said calmly, her eyes never leaving the arena, “to only hurt his face in the beginning.” She said

Though inside her mind she couldn’t help but wonder.

How…? From where she sat, she could see it clearly now. Razeal was not merely strong. He was decisively strong. His physical presence alone radiated the pressure of someone who had already crossed into the Saint realm and not at its weakest edge. Even holding back, his strength felt dangerously close to brushing against the threshold of Saint King.

Saint rank…?

The realization unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

The last time she had watched him fight against Sylva his raw strength had been nowhere near this level. Aside from that final sword slash, which she had instinctively recognized as something unnatural, borrowed, or forced through some unknown method, his overall power had been far lower. Far too low.

Two entire ranks apart actually..

To cross such a distance in barely a month?

It shouldn’t be possible.

—

“Soooo good!”

Neptunia’s voice rang out sharply from the spectators’ stand, cutting cleanly through the stunned silence that had swallowed the colosseum.

She had both hands raised in the air, eyes sparkling with undisguised delight, a grin stretched so wide across her face it looked almost painful. Unlike the rest of the crowd who sat frozen, unsure whether to gasp, protest, or avert their eyes she looked genuinely thrilled.

She was, quite literally, the only one cheering.

Around her, heads turned.

Atlanteans stared at her in disbelief, some with outright offense etched across their faces. Whispers spread in low, agitated murmurs.

Who is that woman?

Is she mad?

That’s the prince…

How could anyone cheer while the Prince of Atlantis lay crumpled on the arena floor?

Neptunia noticed none of it or simply didn’t care.

“Hehehehe go on!” she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth to make her voice louder. “Beat that bastard more!”

The looks she received grew sharper, more hostile. But Neptunia only laughed harder, her shoulders shaking with barely restrained glee. For once, she was watching someone else do what she had always wanted to do herself and she was enjoying every second of it.

“You really seem excited,” Maria commented dryly from beside her, her eyes flicking between Neptunia and the arena below.

“Obviously I am,” Neptunia replied without hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. “I would literally pay for every punch on that bastard’s face.”

“Oh,” Maria said flatly, not sure whether to be impressed or disturbed. “Good for you, I guess.”

Neptunia nodded again, grin still firmly in place.

For a few seconds, they both watched in silence, the aftermath of the punch still hanging heavily over the arena. Then Maria spoke again, her tone quieter but sharper, suspicion creeping back into her eyes.

“So… what’s the first prize for winning this competition?”

Neptunia’s expression faltered just slightly.

Her smile didn’t disappear, but it tightened.

“Arghh again? Why do you always do this?” she snapped, turning toward Maria with an irritated side glance. “Can’t you see I’m busy enjoying this? Do you really have to ruin the moment?”

“It’s suspicious,” Maria replied evenly, not backing down. “You keep dodging the question when Razeal asked. Now don’t change the topic. Tell me what it is. He might not take it seriously but I do. What’s the prize?”

Neptunia clicked her tongue, annoyance flashing openly across her face now. “He’s not going for first prize,” she said dismissively. “And you’re not even participating. So leave it. Why do you even want to know?”

“It is important ofcourse,” Maria said firmly, her voice low but edged with unease. Her eyes never left the arena as she spoke. “I’m sensing something bad. And with his strength and skills… what if he actually gets first position?”

“I’m worried. Because if that happens, I’ll be dragged into this as well. Whether I like it or not. So I need to know. Tell me now. He’s not even here if you didn’t want to tell him…”

Neptunia clicked her tongue and rolled her shoulders, clearly annoyed. “What now? Your female senses tingling or something?” she scoffed. “Anyways, you don’t need to know. And don’t worry so much. He won’t be winning first position anyways.”

She shrugged casually, though her eyes briefly flickered with something more serious. “Even if he somehow could, my father would never allow it. That much is obvious.”

Maria was confused now. “Why?”

Neptunia exhaled, as if explaining something painfully simple. “Because of what the first prize is. And because he’s human. There’s no way they’d give it to him. Even if it’s a competition, they’d find another excuse fail him in the second examination, disqualify him, whatever. He won’t pass.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Second position? Sure. Possible. But first? Never.”

Maria’s brows knit together. “They know we’re human?” Her voice dropped instinctively as she glanced around, tension crawling up her spine. “They can tell that?”

“Obviously,” Neptunia replied, almost bored. “I can tell. The entire Royal Family can. We have special senses.. it comes with being sea royalty.” She stretched her arms slightly, as if this were common knowledge. “Relax. The King won’t do anything. He’s a man of honor.”

Maria let out a short, humorless breath. “Not letting someone win even if they deserve it doesn’t sound very honorable to me.”

She turned back to Neptunia, eyes sharp. “So what is the first prize?”

Neptunia’s jaw tightened. “Again he can’t win it. And stop questioning me will yaa.” She rolled her eyes hard now. “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. Only announced directly to the winner.”

“Tell me,” Maria pressed, not backing down an inch. “Accidents happen. And if something goes wrong, I should at least warn that idiot to hold back. Or stop.”

Her gaze hardened, dangerous now. “I don’t like this.”

Neptunia’s irritation vanished in an instant, replaced by a slow, knowing smirk. “If you push this any further,” she said lightly, “I’ll tell Razeal that you could heal yourself back then.. but didn’t. That you held back and were just acting.. because you wanted him to heal you instead.”

She tilted her head. “Or maybe because you wanted to see if he would.”

Maria’s eyes widened for half a second just a fraction too long. Then she masked it completely, face going blank and cold. “Tell him,” she said stiffly. “It’s not true.”

Neptunia’s grin widened immediately. “Hehehe.. so I guessed right.” She covered her mouth theatrically, eyes glittering with mischief. “Ah~ haaa you should’ve seen your face. You hid it fast, but not fast enough.”

She leaned in, voice teasing. “Tsk tsk. You’re such a tsundere. So? When are you planning to tell him about all this? I mean your feeling ofcourse hehehe”

Her hand slipped casually onto Maria’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” Maria slapped her hand away sharply, her voice cutting like ice. “And stop spouting nonsense. It’s not like that. Tell him if you want.. I don’t care.”

“Oh? Really?” Neptunia tilted her head, mock-innocent, eyes gleaming. “I’m serious, you know. I will.”

Maria stared at her for a long second then suddenly grabbed Neptunia by the collar, pulling her close. “Alright i won’t ask again,” she said quietly, dangerously. “YSo you keep your mouth shut. You can’t take that back now.”

Neptunia blinked exaggeratedly, then burst into a grin even wider than before. “With reaaally~?” she teased. “You’re serious?”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Maria snapped, nearly shouting, shoving her away.

—

Back in the arena, the atmosphere had shifted completely.

Arthur groaned as he pushed himself up from the ground, one hand braced against the cracked arena floor. His head throbbed, ears ringing faintly as if the world itself were still shaking.

“Ouch…” he muttered.

He brought his hand to his face and froze.

He couldn’t feel his nose.

A sharp, sickening realization struck him as he pressed again, harder this time. Nothing. No proper shape. Just dull pain and numbness.

His breath hitched.

Slowly, he pulled his hand away.

It was drenched in red.

Blood streamed freely now, dripping from his face, sliding down his chin and dispersing into the water pooled across the arena floor in thin, swirling lines. The metallic scent spread instantly.

Arthur stared at his blood-stained fingers, shock finally cracking through his confidence.

His chest rose and fell heavily as he looked back up toward Razeal.

The smile he’d worn earlier was gone.

Replaced by something far darker.

—–