No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

The arena shimmered with midday mana-light, its barriers glowing in anticipation as the quarterfinals of the Battle Gods Arena began. The air was electric with noise, the stands packed with spectators from every region, all eyes drawn to the flashing displays above.

"Welcome back, fight freaks and mech-heads!" Grumpy Bear's voice thundered across the arena as the next match lineup rolled across the main screen. "This is the start of the Top 8, the quarterfinals, baby! And it's best of five now! No more flukes, no more lucky counters. You win three or you die trying!"

Sleepy Smile sipped from his ever-present mug. "Or you forfeit and go cry into your mech pillow. But that doesn't sound as good on a banner."

Damien's name appeared again in bold black letters.

HUNGRY MONSTER.

Facing him: KUBWA CHAKA, the reigning BGA champion.

Grumpy Bear almost sang. "OHHH YESSS. This is the moment we've been waiting for! That's last year's king, people! A monster from the wild frontlines of Africa, undefeated in official matches, responsible for the hospital visits of six different finalists! And that's just from sparring!"

Sleepy Smile nodded, eyes narrowed. "He's the favorite to win it all. Even against Zhao Xuan. Even against the foreign seeds from America. If you asked me to pick a single fighter to represent pure carnage, it's him."

On-screen, the opponent emerged.

The mecha was nothing like the polished, streamlined designs the audience had seen so far. No gleaming chrome, no advanced satellite-linked HUDs.

Instead, it was wild.

A hulking frame, shaped like a lion fused with a rhino, its armor patchworked with layered obsidian and bone-white plating. Crimson runes glowed across its frame in irregular pulses, as if it were alive. Its arms were long, clawed, segmented with brutal hydraulic muscles, and its legs promised terrifying acceleration. Its face was armored with a tribal helm, fanged and crowned by spiked dreadlocks made of flexible tail-blades that crackled with energy.

The whole machine breathed aggression.

Its name lit up the screen in blood-red text:

AFRICA TYPE-9: MBWA MWITU

"THE WILD DOG"

"It's not pretty," Grumpy Bear said, voice reverent now. "But God help you if it gets within striking range."

Down in the VIP box, the generals were far from calm.

"Do you see the joint pattern on that beast?" General Maru leaned over the railing. "That's an animalistic limb system. Four different predator gaits programmed into the AI core. That mecha moves like a damn cheetah and hits like an elephant."

"And it doesn't even look like it should stay upright," muttered General Riki, eyes twitching. "Which means it can flip, lunge, and drag itself across the ground like a rabid hyena and you still won't have time to react."

General Hong Fei was gripping his tea cup too hard. "That mecha was designed with Africa's fight fire with fire philosophy in mind. It is their trump card in the upcoming war with the awakened beasts. It's strong. Very strong!"

"You think the boy's ready?" General Riki asked quietly.

"If we are to survive the coming war. He has to be." General Hong Fei said, gaze sharpening. "But whether or not he can do it with his darned mecha…"

As the gate opened, Damien's matte-black mech stepped onto the field. No glowing effects. No flares. No flashy reactor scream.

Just the low hum of death.

"Look at that!" Grumpy Bear laughed. "He is still using his basic mecha! What's its name again? The Battle God! Named after our glorious system itself! Such an ostentatious name. Still no enhancements, no shield, no signature weapon packs. This man brought a wooden spoon to a meat grinder and thinks it's fine dining!"

Sleepy Smile smiled faintly. "He already carved through Zhao Xuan. Maybe he likes his steak raw."

Grumpy Bear turned to his co-host. "I'll say this once, and mark my words: this is the end of the road. Hungry Monster is about to get chewed up."

"You've said that every round," Sleepy Smile replied.

"Not anymore. This is definitely my last time saying it!"

Across the field, inside the savage beast of a machine, Kubwa Chaka's voice crackled across the broadcast channel.

"You are fast. Smart. Cold. But let's see if you can survive the wild."

Damien's reply came quiet, unreadable.

"I've been through worse."

The announcers leaned in. The countdown began.

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One.

The crowd leaned forward, holding their breath.

This was the quarterfinals.

And in the jaws of the wild dog… Damien Bloodbane would now face death itself, and see whether it still feared him.

The moment the buzzer echoed across the arena, Mbwa Mwitu exploded into motion.

Not dashed.

Exploded.

That was the only word for it.

The beast-mecha launched forward with a thunderclap, its four limbs erupting with synchronized jet propulsion. Thrusters hidden within its joints and along its spine fired in perfect harmony, sending it surging ahead like a living missile. The air around it shattered, forming concentric shockwaves that cracked the sound barrier in an instant.

A deep, snarling boom echoed across the arena as the ground split open beneath its charge. Dust detonated outward in a mushroom cloud of pulverized stone and mana-charged debris. The shockwave slammed into the arena barriers, causing them to shimmer violently.

At that moment, the Africa Type-9 was not a machine. It was a force of nature, feral, unrelenting, and faster than any eye could follow.

And it was coming straight for Damien.

Damien didn't move.

Not yet.

His matte-black mecha remained still, blade lowered, silent and waiting.

Across the field, Mbwa Mwitu snarled forward and then veered hard right.

The ground screamed beneath it as twin side-mounted thrusters ignited with a deafening roar.

Massive bursts of compressed mana fire shot laterally from vents near its ribcage and shoulder joints, allowing the beast to shift direction at impossible speeds without losing momentum.

Then it veered left.

Another pair of thrusters fired in perfect sequence, flinging the mecha into a brutal zigzag. Its claws tore gouges into the ground to stabilize the turns, sending debris flying in wild arcs. Every movement looked unstable, unpredictable, like a rabid animal on the hunt, snapping its attention from target to target with terrifying fluidity.

But beneath that chaos was deadly precision.