The Gods’ Gacha Game: Return of the God-King

Chapter 68: The Grand Colosseum

“Ryan,” Graham said in a voice like ice. “Stand down. I told you to intercept, not slaughter. Or have you already forgotten who commands you?”

Ryan paled, lowering his weapon with a stiff nod. “Boss… I-I—”

Graham ignored him, eyes still on me. “Kid. It seems fate is eager to move our duel ahead of schedule,” he said smoothly.

Fate, my ass. This has nothing to do with fate. You just want to hammer down the nail that sticks out, I thought while creasing my eyebrows.

“Truly,” Graham continued, as if musing aloud. “I was hoping for you to croak in the fifth scenario, but it appears that you’re more persistent than expected… Just like a cockroach.”

I didn’t reply, simply raising my blade with one hand at him, keeping my stance firm. I was confident that he wouldn’t attack me now since he would likely wait until we were inside the arena so that he could get all my items. But to my surprise, his tone changed.

“I’ll give you a chance,” Graham said. “Become my underling, and I’ll spare you and your friends. You’ll even get stronger—faster than crawling your way up on your own. Don’t be a fool.”

I frowned. “Is that supposed to be an offer or a threat?”

“You don’t know what kind of horrors await in the tenth scenario,” Graham said, his voice trembling, like he was reliving a trauma. “The Goddess of Imagination, our so-called ‘patron god,’ doesn’t care about us. Most of you won’t make it. You think clearing five scenarios makes you special? It only makes her interested in you, watching you as though it’s entertainment.”

“And being your underling protects me from that?” I asked dryly, playing along despite finding the whole pitch mildly amusing.

“It might.” He smiled faintly. “Better than dying as an arrogant fool.”

As he said that, I secretly used Inspect Eye on him.

Graham

HP: 100%

Rank: Daleth [4]

Patron God: Istellia (Goddess of Imagination)

Class: Blade Reaper

Total Attribute Points: 2,856

It seemed that at level three, Inspect Eye revealed the person’s total attribute points. And based on what I saw, even though Graham had nearly twice the total attribute points I currently possessed, the difference wasn’t insurmountable. It was significant—yes—but not enough to make the fight one-sided. With the right timing and the use of my trump cards, I definitely stood a chance at defeating him.

Still… so Blade Reaper was his class. I could guess that his Gimmel-rank class had been Veteran Mercenary, which was a rather standard class by most measures. But Blade Reaper, while not a particularly unique class, was a rare one known for specializing in relentless melee and deadly execution-based finishers. It focused on breaking enemy defenses through sheer aggression. In other words, trouble.

“I refuse,” I said flatly, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Fool,” Graham spat, his voice cold. “Then so be it.”

He turned and began walking toward the edge of the plaza. “Let’s move to the Grand Colosseum. Our duel will begin now, as agreed. What say you?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, my eyes drifted toward the Hall of Classes. Boris and Michelle were still inside, and it would likely be a while, especially if, as I suspected, both were undergoing unique class advancements. That meant they wouldn’t be here to help. Not that I planned to rely on them for this.

This was between Graham and me. I should end what I started.

“Fine,” I replied at last, taking slow steps toward him. “Let’s settle this.”

“Good. Then follow me.” He turned and walked ahead to the Grand Colosseum.

Graham’s underlings, who had once formed a wall around me, parted with visible swagger, creating a path between me and my opponent. Their confident sneers and murmured jeers—claiming Graham’s inevitable victory—bounced off me like pebbles. I didn’t spare them a glance. My focus was locked on one thing: defeating Graham, and in doing so, finally resolving the silent crisis that had been festering within Fantasia because of his unchecked ambition.

As I followed him to the Grand Colosseum, I silently reviewed everything at my disposal—skills, items, and stored plausibility. I definitely couldn’t afford to use Fabled Vessel or Scenario Manipulation, not with Raphael and Istellia surely observing from above. Especially the latter—any significant narrative shift would almost certainly trigger Raphael’s attention, and that was more scrutiny than I was willing to risk right now.

But I should be able to use Grant Plausibility if I timed it right. As long as I used it discreetly, in a moment when no one was watching too closely, I could boost my stats just enough to close the gap. If I could bridge the distance between my 1,500-plus attribute total and Graham’s 2,800-plus, then I’d have more than a winning chance.

Of course, it would all come down to timing.

“You’re awfully calm,” Graham said, glancing back at me as we crossed into the shadow of the towering Grand Colosseum.

“Should I be scared?” I replied evenly.

He didn’t answer and just smirked, as if already picturing his victory. But he had no idea what he was walking into.

The Grand Colosseum loomed ahead like a structure that had seen countless battles and bloodshed. Reminiscent of the Roman Colosseum, its architecture was vast and ancient-looking—arched gateways, towering stone pillars, and banners fluttering in the breeze like standards raised for war. The key difference was scale. This wasn’t built to seat tens of thousands—it could hold a hundred thousand spectators… It was an arena where beings who had transcended mortality came to clash.

As we passed through the gate, I quickly noticed the crowd. There were far more divine warriors in the stands than I had expected, almost a thousand in total, gathered to watch the spectacle.

“Do you like the spectators I prepared?” Graham asked with a smug grin.

“No wonder the main plaza was deserted,” I replied, shaking my head. “You dragged everyone here to stage your ego parade. How tasteless.”

“Ha! I didn’t drag all of them,” he said, chuckling. “Some came on their own. They want to witness somethin’ entertainin’.”

Suddenly, a translucent System prompt materialized before my face.

You have entered the Grand Colosseum.

A duel to the death has been registered between [Maximillian] and [Graham].

Combat restrictions in place: One-on-one. No outside interference allowed.

Wager: All items in the divine warrior’s inventory.

Do you accept this duel?

[Yes/No]

I stared at the blue screen for a moment, feeling the weight of what I was about to commit to, and sneered. “Guess you really do want me dead.”

“No hard feelings,” Graham replied casually as he strode toward the center of the arena. “The first time I saw you emerge from the Hall of Beginnings, I knew you’d be a problem. What I didn’t expect was how fast you’d rise, challenging me in barely over a week. At this rate, you’d be able to surpass me within a month, so I was forced to take action.”

I walked forward as well, each step echoing beneath me as hundreds—if not thousands—of eyes watched from the stands, murmuring among themselves. There was a mixture of emotions targeted at me: pity, curiosity, excitement, and even schadenfreude.

But it wasn’t just them. I could feel ethereal presences watching us from high above. Istellia was definitely watching with curiosity and amusement. And alongside her, Raphael was likely preparing to host the duel.

As I stood twenty meters away from Graham, I raised a hand and tapped [Yes] without hesitation.

True enough, the moment I confirmed the duel, a soft bell chime echoed through the Grand Colosseum, resonating like the prelude to judgment. With a sharp pop, the space cracked open, and from it emerged a chibi-sized figure cloaked in radiant white.

A pair of feathery wings fluttered daintily, trailing glittering particles behind her like celestial dust. She was so small, barely thirty centimeters tall. Her tunic shimmered with pure white embroidery, gold-threaded patterns pulsing with light. Hovering above her head was a softly spinning halo, a symbol of holiness.

Raphael.

“Oh?” the tiny angel drawled, placing her hands on her hips playfully. “A mortal actually had the gall to initiate a sanctioned duel? How adorably reckless.”

Graham flinched but held his ground, and I held my gaze steady at her without any signs of fear.

“Well then!” Raphael twirled once in the air, raising her finger like an announcer on a stage. “By the divine authority granted to me as the administrator of Lady Istellia’s divine warriors, I shall serve as witness to this duel!”

A pulse of radiant light burst from her body, expanding into a translucent golden dome that sealed the entire arena. The world beyond shimmered like it had been dipped underwater.

“Divine warriors Maximillian and Graham,” she announced, “you have both consented to a sanctioned duel to the death within the Grand Colosseum, under the gaze of the Goddess of Imagination herself. No outside interference will be tolerated. No retreat. And absolutely no whining—unless, of course, it’s amusing. Any attempt to violate these rules will result in expulsion from the System, total forfeiture of all soul coins, and branding as a sinner before being cast into a place from which there is no return.”

The audience remained utterly silent, reverent.

Raphael then continued, “Let the duel commence at my signal. Victory will be awarded to the last one standing. The victor shall claim all of the loser’s belongings, including items in their inventory, as a reward.”

Then, with a cheerful clap, Raphael grinned impishly.

“You may now begin! Try not to die too quickly; I just reheated my special popcorn.”

With that, she vanished from the center of the arena, reappearing high above like a floating overseer while holding a bucket of rainbow-colored popcorn in her hand, eyes gleaming with amusement.

So, the final duel had finally begun between me and Graham.

This one battle would decide the future of Fantasia—and the outcome of the Battle of Divine Will that loomed on the horizon. I was certain that if I didn’t nip the problem in the bud now, it would come back to bite me harder later.

There would be no room for mistakes, and I couldn’t hold back.

Not in this battle.