Oops, I Accidentally Ascended to Godhood

A short man could be seen with a mic in hand, his expression exaggerated as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"The Viper! The ruthless! On stage with us, Sinbaaaadd...!"

"Yaaaah!"

The spectators roared in response.

A man with an exaggerated physique, muscles bulging, climbed up the stage.

Half of his face was covered by a huge scar.

He walked with heavy steps, twisting his neck from side to side with loud cracks, slamming his fists into each other sounding like drums.

After the crowd's noise settled, the short man pulled out a small sheet of paper, read from it briefly, folded it back into his pocket, and continued.

"Joining him on stage, Tarkan...!!" he screamed with all his might.

Tarkan stood still for a moment.

A mask covered half of his face as he walked calmly onto the stage.

The crowd didn't cheer.

For a beginner like him, Tarkan hadn't done anything noteworthy in his previous matches.

And standing next to the monstrous Sinbad, he looked more like a deer caught on the wrong side of the fence. They had zero expectations of him beating his opponent.

Tarkan wasn't bothered, He didn't even glance at the man.

"Let the ba..." the short announcer began, screaming into the mic as usual, but was suddenly cut off when Tarkan raised his hand and gestured for him to come over. A calm, simple motion.

The short man looked from side to side, checking if Tarkan was really calling him.

"Th..." he started to say, but was interrupted.

"Can I borrow the mic?" Tarkan asked this time speaking out loud.

The MC seemed caught in a tight spot.

But, as if on cue, his wristband beeped. He glanced at it, then replied.

"Sure."

He passed the mic to Tarkan.

Booooo....

The crowd, having noticed the delay in the match, had started booing.

But when they saw the MC hand over the mic to Tarkan, they all went silent.

Ears perked. Waiting to hear what he was going to say.

Tarkan raised the mic casually.

His voice came out bored, slow, almost like he was trying not to yawn.

"This whole event is an eyesore," he said. "Cut the drama.

All remaining contestants, come at me together, Let's wrap this up."

The stadium, which had already gone quiet, somehow dropped even further into silence.

It was so still, you could hear a pin drop.

The announcer stared at Tarkan like he was mentally deranged.

The crowd took a second to process the statement.

Then boom.

"Did he just say everyone?" someone shouted.

"What arrogance…"

"Damn! Isn't this too much?"

"I can't see! The arrogance is blinding me!"

"Is he mentally okay?"

"This kid must be the founder of 'Courting Death'!" Find the source of this chapter at M|V|L-EMPYR.

Tarkan's opponent, Sinbad, was no longer just annoyed, his face turned dark.

Unlike the spectators who were merely shocked, he felt utterly humiliated.

From the moment Tarkan stepped onto the platform, he had sensed the disdain in his opponent's body language.

The disregard, The disrespect. He'd thought maybe it was an act to appear strong, but hearing those pompous words, he knew

Tarkan didn't really take him seriously at all.

"You arrogant bastard…" Sinbad growled. "Since your parents didn't teach you manners, let your senior brother guide you."

He activated his talent and equipped a type of knuckle weapon, similar to the one Tarkan had used.

He hit his fists together. The sound rang out, sharp and dangerous.

His talent seemed to be of the enhancement type.

The short MC quickly moved to the side, seeing that things were escalating.

"Let the fight begin!"

Ding… ding… ding…

The MC seemed to dismiss Tarkan's earlier words as nonsense.

The match had begun.

Sinbad dashed forward, fist pulled back for a powerful punch aimed straight at Tarkans face.

Tch

Tarkan clicked his tongue, his face annoyed and frustrated. He didn't bother with using any kind of tactics.

Instead, he channeled all that frustration he felt into his fist, and threw it forward to meet Sinbad's.

Sinbad's face twisted into a wicked grin.

But what he expected didn't happen.

The moment their fists collided,

Sinbad's knuckle weapon cracked. Then shattered.

His entire arm exploded in a shower of blood.

Tarkan's punch didn't stop. It kept going, crashing into Sinbad's head.

Boom!

His skull burst open like watermelon. Blood sprayed in all directions.

Sinbad's body, now armless and headless, staggered a few steps forward before collapsing on the stage. Blood quickly pooling beneath him.

Everything had happened in a blink.

The MC, who had raised his mic to comment, stood frozen.

He looked side to side, checking if he was the only one who'd just seen what had occurred.

The crowd, stunned, held their breath.

"Woooo…"

They exhaled together, slowly.

Then the entire arena burst into cheers again, louder than ever.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

"What the hell was that?!"

"What did my eyes just see?!"

"Daaaamn!"

"This ticket was worth every cent!"

Inside the VIP booth, all the guests had stunned expressions.

"Whose candidate is that kid?" the woman from earlier asked.

But the others only shook their heads, none of them seemed to know him.

She turned to a man seated casually at the end of the booth.

He wore a calm smile, cup of drink in hand, eyes still lazily watching the stage like nothing interesting had even happened.

"Sam… Aren't you worried?" she asked.

"About what?" Sam replied.

"That kid… He seems to have high Prime Points."

"So?" Sam answered, unfazed.

The woman stared at him for a moment, then seeming to figure out something, turned her gaze back to the match.

--

"Go to hell, you bastard!"

"You ruined everything!"

The cheers had turned to curses.

the crowd suddenly began shouting curses at Tarkan.

Many had bet on Sinbad. Now they were furious.

Tarkan stood unfazed, his mask hiding his expression.

Tch.

He looked down at his outfit seemingly unbothered.

"This was a new cloth, Damn it," he muttered, brushing blood off his shirt.

The short MC, finally snapped out of his daze, raised the mic.

"T-Tarkan wins!"

"BOOOOO!"

The crowd booed again, this time with bitter faces.

But once more, they froze when they saw Tarkan raise his hand, signaling the MC to come over.

The man looked around again, clearly hoping someone else would step in.

Tarkan's voice came out, same as before, Lazy, Bored. But now, heavier than before.

"Give me the mic."

.....

If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to drop a Power Stone, smash that Golden Ticket, or even leave a comment or review.

Your support is what keeps me going seriously, it's the fuel that keeps this story alive. ❤️🔥

Let me know your thoughts, theories, or just say hi. Every bit means the world!