Kaelith's challenge still echoed, but Aren remained silent. His heartbeat wasn't panicked; it was still, heavy, like a war drum at the bottom of an ocean. Her constellation shimmered above her shoulder like a broken crown—jagged, radiating unstable energy. Not chaos. Something worse.
Corruption.
That was what made her dangerous.
Aren's boots stepped onto the dueling circle, the carved sigils glowing faintly beneath his soles. "You sure you want to do this?"
Kaelith smirked. "Don't disappoint me, dead man."
He tilted his head slightly. "You saw what happened in the simulation room. You don't want this."
"No," she said, her tone quiet, unreadable. "I need this."
System prompt: Host approaching danger zone. Adaptive protocols on standby. Initiating Passive Observation Mode: STARFEED SYNC LEVEL 1.
She moved first.
A flicker—faster than thought. Starfire streaked through the air in a twisting helix, heat compressing the air around her attack. Aren ducked, but not fast enough. A kiss of flame sliced his shoulder. His jacket seared open.
Pain. A reminder. Welcome.
He retaliated with a sweeping kick, low and vicious, designed to shatter kneecaps. She leapt over it with impossible grace, her constellation pulsing as if reacting to her movement. Each flicker of her hands was a spell-slice—arcane knives that shimmered with celestial venom.
Aren dodged three, blocked the fourth, caught the fifth. He twisted her wrist mid-flight and flung her sideways into the arena wall.
The force cracked stone. Dust exploded.
But she rose in the same breath, bleeding from her brow, eyes alight with something close to joy.
"You learn fast," she muttered.
"No," Aren whispered back. "I remember."
System Analysis: Subject Kaelith exhibiting Combat Trauma Reflex. Constellation: Incomplete. Damage Threshold: 63%. Past event flashback imminent...
And then—
Aren blinked—but he wasn't in the arena anymore.
He stood in a corridor of shattered crystal. Screams echoed from deeper inside. Kaelith knelt over two mangled bodies, her teenage form trembling. Her constellation—whole and radiant—began to fracture, jagged lines splintering from the core like veins of black glass.
The vision lasted only a second.
But Aren stumbled, disoriented. Kaelith was in front of him again, fists blazing. She slammed into his chest, driving her palm into his ribs. A shockwave of kinetic mana exploded through his sternum.
He flew back.
His body hit the arena floor hard. Pain splintered through his chest. Breathing hurt. His vision blurred.
Internal Injury Detected: Rib Fracture x2. Lung compression. Emergency healing trigger: DENIED. Parasite at 17% threshold. Insufficient sustenance.
He coughed blood.
A single drop fell onto the sigils beneath him—and the arena flared.
"Get up," Kaelith said, her voice low. "You said you were a monster. Prove it."
And there it was.
He laughed.
Blood on his lips. Rage in his bones. Not just at her—but at everything. The academy. The betrayals. The gods.
The system.
No.The world.
He stood.
Activating Combat Adaptation: Bone Reinforcement. Partial override authorized. Neural latency reduced. Reaction time: +43%
He launched forward.
The parasite pulsed under his skin, red veins etching up his arms. His body moved before thought. A whirlwind of strikes. Palm, elbow, fist, knee. He slammed Kaelith backward, shattered her guard, and drove his forehead into hers.
A shock. A scream. A crash of mana.
The arena imploded in light.
When it cleared, Kaelith lay on her back, panting. Her constellation flickered—weakened but not broken.
Aren stood over her, breathing hard, but not triumphant.
She looked up, and for the first time, Aren saw her fear.
Not of him.
Of herself.
Her hands trembled. "I didn't think you'd stop."
"I didn't know I could."
Silence stretched.
She sat up slowly. "That day in the simulation room... when I saw what you did... I felt it. The hunger in your mana."
"It wasn't me," he said. "It was it."
She frowned. "And yet you wield it like a sword."
Aren looked at his hands. "No. I wield it like a noose."
And Kaelith understood then. Her gaze softened. She reached out, fingers brushing his. Not with affection. With recognition.
They were the same.
Broken blades forged under divine cruelty.
He helped her up.
Duel complete. Sync Ratio increased: +3% New Trait Unlocked: Adaptive Empathy. (Allows shared trauma memory spikes during intense contact.)
The aftermath was a storm.
Rumors exploded across the Academy. That Kaelith and the nameless transfer had fought to a draw. That forbidden techniques were used. That Lyon Dareth was watching.
Aren walked the courtyard, his coat hanging torn, eyes focused.
Then he saw him.
Lyon Dareth.
Golden hair, perfect posture, surrounded by a coterie of noble scions. All smiles, all lies. Aren walked up the steps toward him.
"Aren Valen," Lyon said, with mock pleasure. "The Academy's newest beast."
Aren didn't slow. "Still smiling, Lyon? You were always good at that. Right before the knife slipped in."
The crowd around Lyon murmured. Lyon raised a hand, pretending calm.
"I see you've grown bitter. I told you years ago—you were always meant to serve."
"And I told you," Aren said softly, "that I'd come back."
Lyon's face cracked. Just a fraction. Enough.
"The Dominion Rankings begin soon," he said. "Try not to die too early. I'd like to face you myself."
Aren walked past him, shoulder slamming Lyon aside.
"You'll face me," he said. "But not as an equal. As prey."
Quest Progress: "Bury the Past" updated. New Objective: Surpass Lyon Dareth before the final Trials.
That night, Aren lay in his dorm, staring at the cracked ceiling.
His shoulder ached. His ribs throbbed. The system murmured at the edge of consciousness like a second heartbeat.
He remembered the day they left him to die.
The gods had descended. The war had turned. And Lyon had abandoned him to the divine purge.
He had crawled through ashes.
Begged the stars.
He had heard something whisper back from the void.
And now?
He was the whisper.
He was the storm.
Tomorrow, he'd register for the Tournament.
Tomorrow, he'd start the path.
Not of salvation.
Of vengeance.
Of annihilation.