Reincarnated Avatar; I got 2 SSS-Rank Unique Skills
Chapter 187: Champions of England

Chapter 187: Champions of England

It seemed scripted, but it was not.

Dain Ironvalor vs Crimson Saint, part of the final survivors in the skirmish at the entrance of the Frost King’s Palace.

Now, it was survive or die, no strings attached.

The icy wind howled through the Frost King’s Palace, blowing flurries of snow and ash across the shattered battleground.

The once-pristine marble steps at the grand entrance were now scorched and cracked, a silent witness to a war fought by legends.

And standing amid that ruin, three titans remained.

Crimson Saint, the immovable Paladin of Scarlet Rose, his once glorious armor cracked and singed, the crimson cape torn, fluttering weakly.

Dain Ironvalor, the indomitable Paladin of Phoenix Rising, his shield barely intact, sword trembling in his hand.

And between them, gasping, bleeding and defiant, Lucien the Arclord, Phoenix Rising’s Combat Mage, flickering like a candle about to be snuffed out, his HP bar hanging at a meager 7%.

There was no more dialogue. No speeches.

Just judgment.

Lucien raised his staff.

{Haha}

Crimson Saint typed and then with a roar, the Paladin charged through the ice and flame, raising a new A-rank substitute shield that he summoned, boots shattering stone as he dashed.

Dain Ironvalor didn’t even try to shield the Combat Mage. He knew, and his teammate also knew that his best use at this moment was to try buying him an opportunity to deal a debilitating blow to the Crimson Saint.

The Combat Mage tried.

Lucien unleashed a final spell, a condensed arcane nova, but the Saint cut through it, shield glowing with holy vengeance.

The spell exploded, sending debris and mist flying.

And when the light cleared, the Combat Mage lay crumbled, his staff shattered, his health gone.

He couldn’t even buy the time he hoped for, he couldn’t create an opportunity for his captain to strike the killing blow.

And now, two remained.

The last Paladins.

The final vanguards of their teams, the Avatars of unbending will.

Crimson Saint and Dain Ironvalor stood just a few feet apart; no full health bars, no backups, no ultimates.

Only grit.

Like the Crimson Saint, Dain Ironvalor also already summoned a new substitute A-rank shield.

BOOM!

They charged simultaneously, sword clashing with a thunderous clang that echoed across the frozen palace. Shields slammed into each other like war drums, holy auras flaring violently.

Every swing was desperate. Every parry was righteous.

Dain Ironvalor struck from above, Crimson Saint blocked and countered low...

Dain Ironvalor sidestepped, bashed with his shield, Crimson Saint reeled...

But before Dain Ironvalor could capitate on the slight advantage, the shrewd controller of the Crimson Saint improvised, showing his experience as his Avatar recovered almost immediately with a clever technique.

Before Dain Ironvalor could push his advantage, Crimson Saint retaliated with a spinning slash that cut through armor and HP.

Damage notifications filled the air.

They clashed again and again, moving up the frost-ridden steps, their boots slipping on ice, their blades chipping with every brutal impact.

Each skill felt like it would be the last. Each swing pushed them beyond human limits, beyond pro limits.

And finally, with both health bars in red and flickering...

Dain Ironvalor roared, using his last ability. An Awakened level skill.

{Divine Nova=}

An Awakened level Paladin skill that after activation, a burst of radiant energy emanates from the Paladin, dealing devastating damage to nearby enemies and healing allies.

But Crimson Saint responded before being caught in the skill.

In response, Jonathan’s fingers also went haywire, flying over his keyboard in a blur...

Tap! Tap! Tap!

He managed to use an Awakened level skill of his own.

{Divine Judgement=}

An Awakened level Paladin skill that calls down a pillar of light to heavily damage enemies in a small area. Deals extra damage to evil-aligned foes.

KABOOM!

Light and flame surged. Steel screamed. A final, desperate clash.

And then...

Silence.

The two Paladins stood still at the top of the palace steps, until both slowly dropped their weapons, fell to one knee...

...and collapsed at the same time, their bodies disintegrating into shimmering motes of light.

[Paladin Avatar, Crimson Saint has been eliminated!]

[Paladin Avatar, Dain Ironvalor has been eliminated!]

Draw.

The battlefield lay still.

In the stadium, tens of thousands of fans held their breaths, sweat dripping down their faces as they numbly watched.

Only two remained now.

Far away, the fate of the final of the Warstar RPG Champions League would be decided in one final duel between two unexpected candidates.

Not Dain Ironvalor, not Crimson Saint, not even Chris’ Sage Quentin, rather it was between Phoenix Rising’s Blademaster vs Scarlet Rose’s Launcher.

And the world held its breath.

...

The battle moved from the ruined steps of the Frost King’s Palace to a frozen ridge overlooking the vast glacier beneath.

After a lengthy chase, the Blademaster finally cornered his prey, the Launcher.

Snowflakes swirled as the final two Avatars stepped into the light.

Kairos, the Blademaster of Phoenix Rising stood tall, one shoulder slumped, and katana dragging behind him. His armor was cracked, one gauntlet gone, but his stance radiated balance; grace forged from exhaustion.

Opposite him stood Vesper Quinn, the Launcher of Scarlet Rose, boots rooted in ice, cannon cradled in her arms like an instrument of war.

Her coat was torn, her health bar low, but her glare was sharp, deadly. Her aim, unshaken.

This was the single Avatar that caused Phoenix Rising so many problems in this team battle.

And now, the final moment of the Warstar RPG Champions League final.

One swing. One shot. One victor.

There were no words.

Vesper moved first.

She backstepped smoothly, cannon flaring as she fired a triple salvo of concussive rounds. The first two slammed into the ridge, shattering ice and creating a wall of smoke and shrapnel.

But Kairos dashed through it, blinking forward mid-step, leaving only a fading blur behind in his wake.

He was like a mirage, here and there at the same time. Too fast.

And yet, the Launcher was undeterred, her aim unflinching and true.

But the third shell flew straight into a parry. Kairos slashed it mid-air, detonating it early in a fiery burst that knocked him backward but not down.

Vesper slid to the side, pulling a grenade from her belt and launching it into the sky. It hovered, then burst, raining explosive flak all around. A trap.

Kairos leapt high, spinning, diving between the blasts as he came down in a falling arc, his blade glowing. He slashed...

...but Vesper sidestepped at the last second and unloaded a point-blank cannon blast into his chest.

CRASH!

Kairos skidded across the ice, groaning. His health bar blinked.

[HP- 15%]

Vesper approached, loading a piercing round into the chamber; her final shot as she took aim. Both Avatars were activating skills rapidly as they moved.

Vesper took aim, but Kairos moved. Faster than thought, faster than she could lock on.

{Flash Step=}

He was suddenly behind her.

{Blade Draw=}

A single horizontal cut.

And the cannon dropped from her hands.

Vesper turned, eyes wide; not in pain but in a mixture of complicated emotions; fear, dread, and an indignant feeling of frustration just before her Avatar shattered into digital shards and vanished in the night.

[HP- 0%]

Silence.

---<VICTORY>---

[CHAMPIONS: PHOENIX RISING]

The victory screen flashed but tonight it was not just the victory screen. A system announcement rang across every corner in Wembley Stadium, announcing the newly crowned champions of the Warstar RPG Champions League.

On the frozen ridge, Kairos dropped to one knee, blood dripping from his lip, katana stabbed into the ground to hold himself upright.

He didn’t cheer. He didn’t smile. He just breathed.

A deep, shaking breath...

...as champion.

And then, Wembley Stadium exploded.

A tidal wave of noise crashed through the iconic stadium as the screen flared with the victory text and the newly crowned champion’s text.

The stands shook as tens of thousands of fans leapt to their feet, screaming, chanting, and weeping. Red and gold flags erupted like wildfire through the stands, flares lit the night sky, accompanied by loud chants.

"FOUR IN A ROW!"

"FOUR IN A ROW!"

Phoenix Rising fans chanted excitedly, their voices echoing like thunder through the ancient steel bones of the stadium.

People hugged strangers. Some just screamed incoherently, overwhelmed by the sheer release of tension. Others pounded drums, climbed over barriers, waved banners with Kairos’s name in bold, gilded letters.

As for the commentary? The commentary booth shook with sheer disbelief, the sound barely containing the hysteria inside.

"OH MY WORD... KAIROS! HE’S DONE IT!" One commentator shrieked, voice breaking with emotion.

"AGAIN! AGAIN! FOR A FOURTH STRAIGHT SEASON, PHOENIX RISING REMAIN UNTOUCHABLE!" The other roared.

"DO YOU BELIEVE THIS?! DO YOU ACTUALLY BELIEVE THIS?! THAT WAS A BATTLE FOR THE AGES!"

"Vesper Quinn pushed him to the edge, pushed him off it even... and he still somehow found footing! T-this is the stuff of poetry!"

"The stuff of legends!"

As the commentators let loose, the camera panned to Phoenix Rising’s team box where players were storming the stage, lifting Kairos into the air, laughing, crying, overwhelmed.

Confetti rained down from the Wembley arch as the digital crown icon floated above the team’s avatars on the jumbotron.

Phoenix Rising had done it again.

And in that moment, on that pitch, they were immortal.