Ragnok, his King's Aura still pressing down on the struggling, terrified form of Sparx, looked up. His gaze pierced through the entire Arena, past the billions of watching Gods, and met the distant, high throne of God Cosmos.
He couldn't see the Emperor's face, hidden as it was behind the swirling void of the cosmic mask, but Ragnok could feel it.
The cold and utterly terrifying fury radiating from his creator. This was no longer a tournament match. This was an execution.
A cold, hard smile, devoid of all humor, touched Ragnok's lips. He looked down at the arrogant, beautiful angel, who was still fighting against his aura, his six magnificent wings beating furiously just to keep him from being crushed into the ground.
"You are so cooked," Ragnok thought, a cruel, almost pleasurable sense of contempt washing over him.
"How should I break him?" Ragnok pondered, his mind shifting through the combat scenarios he had practiced in his entire life.
