The countdown neared its end. The arena, scorched from the last round, had gone dead silent.
10... 9... 8...
Aryan's heart pounded in rhythm with the timer.
7... 6... 5...
Magic sparked in the air. Swords hummed. Shadows shifted.
4... 3... 2... 1...
—Begin.
The signal was not a sound.
It was an explosion.
Fire erupted in the east corner, hurling stone debris into the air. Wind blades howled from the other end. Gravity surged, warping the ground beneath several fighters as they were thrown into the air screaming.
The arena transformed into a warzone.
People roared. Magic collided. The sand turned crimson.
High above, on the bandit stands, cheers echoed like the howls of wolves. Leader Roy leaned forward in excitement, a twisted grin pulling at his scarred face.
"Yes… that's it! Show me blood! Show me despair!"
Kat and Aryan had stayed low behind a ruined column—but not for long.
"We've been spotted," Aryan muttered, drawing in a sharp breath.
Two fighters broke from the chaos, charging straight toward them. Their eyes weren't filled with malice—they were filled with desperation. Survival demanded blood.
"Split up!" Kat shouted. "Don't hold back!"
Aryan dashed to the left, Kat to the right. Their attackers followed without hesitation.
Aryan vs. Fire User
The man chasing Aryan wore crimson armor laced with scorched marks, his right hand engulfed in flame.
"You're first, boy!" he snarled.
He launched a stream of fire that turned the sand to glass.
Aryan rolled aside, pain flaring in his cracked ribs. He gathered the remaining strength and enhanced his speed and strength. His magic pulsed through his limbs.
The fire user smirked.
"I'll burn you to ash!"
A burst of fire roared toward him. Aryan punched through it, gritting his teeth against the searing pain, and drove his fist toward the man's jaw. The fire mage blocked with a flaming arm, but Aryan twisted, pivoted, and swept his leg under.
The fire user stumbled—and Aryan slammed his elbow into the side of his head.
Not enough to kill.
But enough to make him stay down.
Kat vs. Sword Magic User
On the other end of the arena, Kat clashed steel against steel. His opponent was agile, swift, and wielded a curved blade that shimmered with magical runes.
"Sword magic, huh?" Kat muttered. "Let's see whose edge is sharper."
Kat unleashed Black Slice, a dark arc of energy slashing toward the man. His opponent countered with a glowing crescent—Silver Fang—and the two waves collided midair, creating a shockwave that blew back nearby sand.
They moved like dancers of death, blades ringing, sparks flying.
Kat feinted, ducked under a horizontal slash, and drove his knee into the man's gut. He followed with a spinning slash—but the enemy barely blocked it in time.
"Not bad," Kat said. "But not enough."
He landed a clean strike across the man's side, blood spraying, and the swordsman fell, groaning in pain.
But even as Aryan and Kat handled their own battles…
…something bigger was unfolding.
Across the arena, the mysterious man still stood at the center, unmoving. Calm. Silent. As if none of the chaos mattered.
Until one man—arrogant or brave—decided to challenge him.
A gravity user charged forward, his arms glowing with crushing power.
"I'll wipe that smug face off your skull!" he roared.
The air distorted around his fists as he activated his signature move—Gravity Knuckle—compressing space itself into the form of a punch. He dashed forward, propelled by a burst of speed magic, creating a sonic boom in his wake.
His punch was aimed straight at the unmoving man's chest.
And in that instant, everyone—Aryan, Kat, the bandits—turned to witness what was about to happen.
Would the silent monster finally fall?
Or would something far worse be unleashed?