You could feel the shift.
Not the kind that crept in—slow, subtle—but the kind that slammed down like a judge's gavel. The moment Ronan Break spoke, everything changed.
"That man," he said, voice firm but edged with disbelief, "was the 3rd Elder of the Breaker Clan. The one that was Presumed dead for years now . He was one of my backers in my succession "
Gasps cracked through the arena like thunder after a dry silence. Some stood. Some stumbled. Others just stared—processing the weight of those words.
The man didn't flinch under the attention. He raised his chin, pulling back the hood of his dark robes. His face was lined by time, his body lean but strong, posture still regal. The unmistakable Breaker insignia gleamed on the center of his chest—weathered, but whole.
"I did not die," the elder said, his voice echoing without aid. "I disappeared. Because what we had built was being hollowed out by politics, by softness. I've returned to rebuild the Breaker Clan… as it was meant to be."
That was when the ground trembled.
The Twenty-five warriors behind him stepped forward, forming a solid phalanx behind the elder. Clad in reinforced armor—ancient Breaker design, predating the modern sleekness—they moved in perfect unison. Each bore the same insignia. These weren't stragglers. They were loyalists.
My free hand drifted to one of my swords. The breaker clan relic still in hand and now I felt the weight of it still—not just steel, but responsibility.
Around the stands, some visiting clans shifted. Not the big names. Not the ones with spines. But the smaller, uncertain ones—hesitant clan leaders from backwater factions who had once called the old Elder ally—began to rise in cautious support.
A fracture was forming. You could hear it in the shuffling. Feel it in the posture of the crowd. Like watching tectonic plates realign before an earthquake.
Without being told, we stepped forward.
Me. Amir. Nel. Deya.
And then Cancer. Taurus.
We stood in a loose crescent around Zach—shoulders squared, weapons at the ready. The pressure around us swirled as the Azure Clan's fire-wielders tightened their ring, flames licking higher now—not aimed, but present. A boundary. A warning.
Taurus reached behind his back and pulled out something massive—a gleaming, brutal battle axe, taller than he was. He spun it once like it weighed nothing. I blinked.
That wasn't there yesterday, I thought.I mean no wonder he was just playing with us after all.
The crowd rippled with tension again as Ronan Break raised his hand, demanding silence.
"Explain yourself," he said.
The elder stepped forward at a pace. "This clan was built on power. Unity through strength. You've let outsiders dictate our future. Let weakness masquerade as growth. I did not come to fight today. But I will remind everyone what we once stood for."
His voice stirred something old in the room. Not just fear. Memory.
Clans that had fought beside him. Warriors who remembered stories passed down of his duels. Elders who had survived the war where he was last seen.
He was more than a man right now. He was a symbol—and symbols are dangerous when people are desperate.
"Peace," someone whispered near the back.
"Or war," someone else replied.
The Azure fire flared again.
Then, Muhammad stepped down from the stands. Calm. Hands behind his back. He walked to the arena center like he was approaching a campfire.
"I want to hear what he has to say," he said, smiling slightly. "If only to decide whether it's worth my time."
That drew a few uneasy laughs. Some strained. Some real.
But I wasn't smiling.
I closed my eyes, took a breath, and let my domain expand.
It wasn't like Zach's—clean and heavy. Or Nel's—precise and burning. Mine was loud. Chaotic. Like the world tilted a little when it poured out of me.
It didn't pressure the enemy. It stabilized my team.
I felt Amir's breathing ease. Deya's jittery bloodlust calmed just a notch. Even Nel stood straighter. We were outnumbered. Outranked.
Didn't matter.
The elder's eyes met mine. "A Fortune "He said glancing at my tattoo" … You kneel now too? Have the mighty sold themselves for ceremony and politics?"
And then it happen.
There was no boom in the sense that anybody can see it, but we all felt it. And we all knew who was coming from. My mom had gotten serious.
"the only reason y'all aren't dead is because Ronan recognize you guys "she started " and as this is official breaker turf I'm moving out of respect, but say something about my clan again, and I will personally make sure you're dead this time"
And everybody here knew those words weren't just words it was a statement. After all, she's activated a domain a few times so far, but this time was different this time you can tell this was for real.
Zach tensed beside me.
But then I stepped forward.
"I don't kneel," I said.
The elder raised a brow.
"Fortunes don't kneel," I continued, voice low but sharp. "We rise. We adapt. We fight. We bend fate itself to our will. "As I said that my domain changed from my native essence to my clans signature as i spread it out while it was still crude everyone got the picture. "But most of all we protect natural
And I meant it. Even if my ribs Was barley put back together and still ached from the Taurus fight. Even if my domain was burning through my core like a fire with no chimney.
Zach stepped beside me.
Together, we faced them all.