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Infinite Mana In The Oasis

Meet Eren Idril, just your average Joe trying to navigate a world that's gone full sci-fi bonkers. We're talking flying cars, holographic pets, the whole shebang. But here's the kicker: amidst all the flashy gadgets and mind-bending tech, there's something even more mind-blowing going on—mana. Now, this ain't your run-of-the-mill magic trick. Nope, mana's the real deal, and only the elite, the cream of the crop, the Rankers, get to play with it. They're basically like the cool kids in high school, but with superpowers and a really fancy title. But here's where things get spicy. While everyone's busy flexing their mana muscles and living it up in this brave new world, there's trouble brewing on the horizon. Like, end-of-humanity kind of trouble. Turns out, Earth ain't the safe haven it used to be, and now folks are scrambling to find a new place to call home. Enter Eren Idril, the ultimate underdog in a world full of heroes and villains. He's not your typical protagonist, more like the guy you'd find chilling in the background, minding his own business. But when he stumbles upon a power that everyone else thinks is busted, well, let's just say things are about to get interesting. - Grayback

Grayback · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
284 Chs

Meta vs. Non-Metahuman

In the virtual world of Oasis Online…

The air was thick with the sounds of boisterous shouts and enthusiastic cheers.

The spacious stadium was packed with a lively crowd, eagerly anticipating the upcoming spectacle. Among them, seated on low-altitude benches, sat a group of four non-Metas, quietly exchanging hushed conversations. Two of them, Vik and Tory, engaged in a serious discussion, their voices barely audible amidst the surrounding clamor.

"Vik, are you sure about this?" Tory questioned, glancing around the windowless room that held them captive. Its sole exit led to a long corridor bathed in blinding white light, the source of the raucous noise echoing through the walls.

Vik let out a heavy sigh, his gaze locked with Tory's worried expression. He, too, harbored doubts and hesitations about their current predicament. However, the relentless pursuit and atrocities committed by Raquel had left them with no other choice. It was a ruthless retaliation, an act of defiance against the odds stacked against them.

"This is our only chance to make the organizers listen, Tory," Vik replied, his voice tinged with determination. "We need to win this match and turn the viewers into witnesses, so we can present our side to the world."

Justice seemed out of their grasp, a luxury they couldn't afford. But vengeance, an eye for an eye, became their path when Raquel crossed the line, indiscriminately targeting innocent lives. Their targets, criminals though they were, had not harmed or swindled the innocent. Vik and Tory knew the risks, the repercussions of their actions, but they were left with no other recourse.

A chilling voice suddenly pierced the tense atmosphere, snapping their attention to a muscular man with a beer belly. His presence exuded an air of cold authority, as if heralding an imminent descent into misery.

"Your time's up. Let's go," the man declared, his callous tone reverberating through the waiting room. The five non-Metas turned their gaze toward him simultaneously, absorbing the gravity of his words. It was as if they were about to embark on a journey rife with torment and hardship.

Vik and Tory exchanged a meaningful glance, silently communicating the weight of their decisions. Vik offered his friend a final chance to withdraw, knowing the dangers that awaited them. It was a slap in the face to Raquel, an act that would undoubtedly bring forth her wrath.

But Tory stood firm, his resolve unyielding. "Hermano, don't underestimate our courage. Let's face this head-on, even if it means going down in flames. Hahaha!"

Vik managed a mirthless smile, aware that Tory's response would mirror his own expectations. Their bond ran deep, built upon trust and shared hardships. Together, they would face whatever came their way.

The center of the expansive stadium housed a battle ring, a platform elevated above the ground and constructed from a resilient foam-like material. Surrounding it, strings held by poles formed a perimeter, securing the battleground.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is no ordinary night," the announcer's voice boomed, capturing the attention of the crowd. "Prepare yourselves for an extraordinary display of skill and spectacle. We present to you the one and only Triple G!"

With a burst of excitement, a hooded figure leaped from the audience, landing gracefully within the battle ring. The jump defied the boundaries of common sense, defying the limitations imposed on non-metahumans.

This late-thirties metahuman possessed arms as robust as young elephant limbs, and his sturdy legs resembled boulders hewn from mighty trees. A shining bald head reflected the blinding lights focused upon the ring, a testament to his ultimate form, achieved at the cost of his hair.

Yet, that was not all. Triple G's arms blazed with literal fire, flames that danced higher with each enthusiastic gesture. In Oasis Online, his metahuman powers translated into a force to be reckoned with.

Tonight, Triple G would face five non-Meta challengers simultaneously, a spectacle designed to captivate the audience. The fights would be broadcasted through Oasis Online, ensuring the entire population could witness the events unfolding.

The announcer, resplendent in formal attire, extolled Triple G's accomplishments, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Drama permeated the air, characteristic of the showbiz extravaganza.

Only after allowing Triple G his well-deserved spotlight did the announcer shift his focus.

"Dear viewers, it is now time to meet the solid group of five contenders who stand ready to challenge Triple G. Though they may appear as ordinary individuals, never underestimate their determination."

The audience's attention turned towards the corridor, the designated entrance for the contenders. Soon, a group of five people emerged, their faces etched with tension. Unfamiliar to the spectators, they were new faces, unknown to the fame and recognition that others enjoyed.

The announcer wasted no time, sensing the anticipation in the air. He cleared his throat, projecting his voice with authority.

"The match begins in 3... 2... 1... Go!"

The five challengers lunged at Triple G simultaneously, aware of the need to exploit the limited time it took for metahuman abilities to manifest. They understood that leaving him unchallenged would only lead to their own downfall.

"Hahaha! A pack of rats, thinking they can overpower a Meta simply because they move swiftly," Triple G taunted, his voice laced with arrogance. "Let me demonstrate the vast difference between those born to be ruled and those born to rule. Behold my Divine Punch!"

Vik's forehead creased with frustration as he heard the pretentious boasts of Triple G. The man's ordinary punch, elevated to the status of a named attack move, and his disparaging remarks towards the other participants fueled Vik's determination. This fight was not just about the prize money; it was about standing up against the arrogance of those who believed themselves superior.