I, the All-Class Magus, All My Awakening Skills are LvMax

"My God, is this real or fake? They just saw the Immortal Messenger’s hand being chopped off?"

It seemed impossible, it had to be a deception; this person must be a disguised gold-tier competitor.

Otherwise, how could anyone be so formidable?

How could a gold-tier awakener possibly defeat the Immortal Messenger?

The crowd was beginning to lose their minds.

Some even thought they were witnessing a rigged match.

How else could this happen?

Everyone believed the Immortal Messenger was invincible!

Even if he were to lose, it would only be plausible under extraordinary circumstances, like being vastly out-leveled.

But this situation seemed like a total domination; it just couldn’t be happening.

Victor’s movements were visibly slowing, and John, without any hesitation, swung his blade down again!

The slash traveled from John’s left shoulder blade straight to the right side of his abdomen!

If not for Victor’s terrifyingly high defense, he might not have been able to stand up after that blow!

Victor’s face contorted in pain, and John’s grip on his sword was nearly slipping.

Although it pained him deeply, there was no other way.

This was the only thing he could do.

It seemed that John’s strike had finally shattered all of Victor’s defenses, and he felt something unusual.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

Without any hesitation, he plunged his sword once again into Victor’s abdomen.

The glow of the Bloodthirsty Blade began to shimmer faintly, starting to draw blood from Victor’s body.

At the same time, Victor’s complexion visibly paled, yet he still tried to grasp the blade.

John kicked him away forcefully.

Victor, completely defenseless, was sent flying several meters and lay on the ground, unable to get up for a long while.

Some spectators in the stands started to panic; they did not want to see the Immortal Messenger lose.

After all, many had placed heavy bets on him.

Now, the unfolding events were hard for them to accept.

If the Immortal Messenger were to lose, they would be ruined financially.

Although the people in the private boxes didn’t care much about the money, that didn’t mean everyone felt the same.

Many were here to make a significant profit.

A few began to get excited because they had bet a little on John winning.

Even if it was just a small amount, the odds were a thousand to one.

Victor now stood frozen in place, seemingly unable to fathom the immense pain he was experiencing.

The horror of the Bloodthirsty Blade was not in its high critical damage, but rather in its ability to continuously drain the blood of its victim once it made contact.

Victor was in such a state, his vital blood being relentlessly siphoned by the blade, leaving him with no ability to resist.

Without showing much emotion, John delivered a kick that knocked Victor to the ground, completely immobilizing him.

The process was brutally efficient as John severed the tendons in Victor’s hands and feet.

Only by doing this could he neutralize Victor’s ability to move in the shortest time possible, and this was all executed with chilling precision.

Silver Tear, watching everything from the box, knew that John was acting for the captain’s best interest and that the captain’s injuries could be healed, yet she couldn’t help but tear up.

She had never seen the captain in such a dire state.

"My God, it seems the Immortal Messenger has completely lost the ability to move. If he cannot stand up, the challenger will be declared the winner," the announcer declared.

As these words were spoken, the crowd began to scream in disbelief.

They all wanted the Immortal Messenger to stand up, but it was simply impossible.

Victor tried to stand up, but it was impossible; the tendons in his arms and legs had been severed, leaving him utterly incapacitated.

Meanwhile, many in the crowd began to scream in anger and curse loudly.

"Get up, you’re the Immortal Messenger! You’ve won so many fights, how can you fall here?"

"Get up! Damn it, I’ve bet everything I own on you!"

"Ha, if you lose, I’m going to make a fortune. I bet a whole 100000 on this challenger!"

"I always knew no one could keep winning forever. Looks like you’ve finally capsized in the gutter."

"That’s right, the best outcome is making more money so I can finally enjoy myself here, hahaha, now I can really enjoy it."

Some rejoiced while others cursed nonstop, feeling that the Immortal Messenger had betrayed their trust.

The announcer was also very tense, as he had seen the Immortal Messenger effortlessly kill opponents many times before.

But now, the situation was different; the Immortal Messenger couldn’t stand up to fight the challenger.

"The countdown begins, ten seconds!"

The announcer’s voice rang out, and everyone started to cheer Victor on, though some prayed for the ten seconds to quickly pass.

Once these ten seconds were up, they could win a massive prize, potentially securing a better future.

John watched Victor intently across the arena, uncertain of any tricks Victor might still have up his sleeve.

He didn’t know what Victor might be thinking, but he had to stay alert until the very last second.

"9!"

Victor struggled on the ground, trying to muster all his strength to stand, but it was futile.

"8!"

"7!"

...

"3!"

With the last three seconds ticking down, John felt time stretch unbearably; even his breathing quickened.

"2!"

In the box, Silver Tear held her breath, suddenly finding these last two seconds excruciating.

The crowd on the stands erupted, screaming and cursing.

They were all calling for the Immortal Messenger to get up.

If he lost, many would be ruined.

As the announcer counted down the final second, Victor still couldn’t rise.

"1!"

"Let’s congratulate the challenger!"

With the announcer’s final call, some began to cheer joyfully, while others broke down in tears.

John finally relaxed, fighting to keep himself from collapsing to the ground in relief.