[Chp 22] Tournament of Realms

Weeks had passed since Zero was crowned Guildmaster, a title earned through relentless trials and unyielding resolve. The halls of the guild now echoed with a rare calm — a fragile peace born from hard-won order. Yet beyond this quiet, the Eighth Realm stirred with anticipation. From every corner of this mysterious realm, the strongest warriors were gathering — chosen by fate and fire to face the ultimate challenge. Among them stood Zero, cloaked not just in power, but in the heavy weight of destiny. A shimmering gateway tore open in the heart of the Capital — a portal unlike any other. It was the sacred entrance to the Tournament of Realms, a place whispered about in legends but seen by few. Zero and four others stepped forward, their footsteps steady but their hearts pounding with anticipation. The moment they crossed the threshold, the world around them dissolved into swirling light and shadow. When the blinding haze cleared, they found themselves standing in a realm unlike any other — a place beyond reach, where no one else could follow. The air crackled with ancient power, and the ground beneath them seemed to hum with untold potential. Here, in this hidden arena between worlds, the true battle for supremacy would begin. As their eyes adjusted to the strange new world, Zero and the others noticed something unexpected — seven glowing gateways stood open before them, each pulsing with ancient energy. Only seven realms had answered the call. One was missing. The Eighth Realm had sent its strongest warriors, including Zero. The Ninth Realm… no longer existed. Whispers of ruin hung heavy in the air. The Tournament of Realms was meant to unite all nine… but now, the battle would be fought without one—and the shadow of that loss loomed over them all. A figure suddenly materialized at the center of the floating island, cloaked in an aura of power and authority. Their voice echoed across the vast expanse, commanding attention. “This is the Tournament of Realms!” they declared, their tone sharp and resolute. “Here, warriors will form teams of two and face off against rival pairs. Only through these battles will the final four emerge — the true champions who will decide the fate of all realms!” The gathered warriors exchanged wary glances. Zero’s eyes narrowed, his voice calm but steady. “So… we’re not just fighting for ourselves,” he said. “Our partners’ lives depend on our strength as well.” The figure nodded, a faint smile playing at the edge of their lips. “Precisely. Trust and strategy will be as vital as power. Choose your allies wisely. The battles will test not only your skills but your bonds.” One of the other champions, a fierce warrior with blazing eyes, scoffed. “And what if I don’t want to team up? What if I fight alone?” The figure’s gaze hardened. “This is the rule of the Tournament. No lone wolves here. Only pairs. Only unity will carry you forward.” Zero took a deep breath, then turned to the others. “Then let’s make sure we pick partners we can rely on. The tournament won’t wait.” The tension tightened as the first round of alliances was about to form — and the true test was about to begin. Zero clenched his fist “Tirion…You and me…” Tirion’s sharp eyes flicked toward Zero, a bitter smirk twisting across his face. He stepped forward, the obsidian edge of his armor catching the strange light of the floating realm. His voice, low and biting, cut through the air like a blade. “You must be joking.” Tirion said. Zero eyes locked on him “I don’t care…you and me are going to be partners together…After this tournament how about me and you have a duel? Sounds fair?” Tirion’s bitter smirk deepened into a mocking laugh. “Partners?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t get to decide that, Zero. Whether you like it or not, I’m not your pawn.” His eyes glinted with challenge. “But… a duel after the tournament? Now that’s something I can agree on.” He stepped closer, the air thick with tension. “Just don’t expect me to go easy on you — I’ll make sure you regret every step that got you this title.” Tirion’s voice dropped to a growl, almost a whisper. “Consider this your warning, Guildmaster.” And with that, he turned sharply, the obsidian gleam of his armor fading into the shimmering light of the arena, leaving Zero standing firm — ready for both the tournament and the storm brewing between them. Thirty minutes went by after everyone choosing their partners. “Everyone ready!!” The announcer roared through the arena, everyone one screaming, yelling, all excited. “let’s BEGIN! The four first contestants please come on up!” “THE FIRST MATCH: REALM THREE VERSUS REALM FIVE!” The sky cracked with white light, the floating coliseum trembling as ancient magic stirred awake. A hush swept through the crowd. Spectators from every realm leaned forward in anticipation, eyes locked on the glowing battlefield now shifting into combat configuration — wide, circular platforms suspended in a void of endless twilight. A stone bridge extended from each portal gate. From the west gate, Realm Three’s warriors emerged — First, Riven the Arcanist, calm and calculating, his rune-marked robes swaying in the wind. Beside him walked his partner, Selra, a sharp-eyed woman with white hair braided tight and blades etched with elemental symbols strapped across her back. She whispered something to Riven as they approached, and he gave a slight nod. From the east gate came Realm Five — Brakka the Stonebreaker, pounding his fists together, laughter rumbling from his chest like thunder. Walking just behind him was his partner, Vorga, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with obsidian pauldrons and a long warhammer slung over one shoulder. She gave Brakka a brutal smack on the back. “Crush ‘em fast,” she grinned. “I always do.” Brakka cracked his knuckles. The four warriors stopped at the edge of the arena. Then, with a swirl of light, the arena selected the first combatants. RIVEN of REALM THREE versus BRAKKA of REALM FIVE. The others stepped back, leaving the two champions facing off alone at the center platform. High above, the Tournament Overseer raised a hand. “The battle will continue until one is unconscious or yields. Powers, weapons, and abilities permitted. Begin when the light fades.” The dome dimmed. Magic hummed in the air. FLASH. The signal burst. Brakka charged forward like a battering ram, both fists glowing red-hot with volcanic enchantment. The platform cracked under his weight. “Come on, rune boy!” he roared. “Let’s see what that pretty magic’s worth!” Riven didn’t move — not yet. His hands flicked through the air in sharp, calculated patterns. A shimmering circle of runes formed beneath his feet. “Sigil One: Acceleration Glyph.” The moment Brakka reached striking distance, Riven vanished in a flicker of blue light and reappeared behind him. He unleashed a blast of arcane energy point-blank — slamming into Brakka’s back. The brute stumbled, but barely flinched. “Cute trick,” Brakka growled — and whirled. His gauntlet struck out like a cannon, and Riven barely conjured a reflective barrier in time. The force launched him across the arena — skidding along the platform’s edge. From the sidelines, Selra stood still, eyes narrowed. “Don’t just react… control the flow.” Back on the field, Riven climbed to his feet. “Right.” He thrust his hands forward — four glowing runes soared into the air and expanded into wide glyphs above him. “Quad Binding Array — Formation Delta!” The runes fired arcs of light downward, forming a crisscrossing net of magical binds. Brakka lunged at him, but the lines slammed into his limbs, freezing him mid-motion like an insect in a web. Brakka roared, muscle bulging, the web trembling. “GAAAH! You think this is enough?!” Riven extended a final sigil under Brakka’s feet — glowing with dangerous intensity. “This is.” The spell activated — a pulse of concussive energy erupted from below, launching Brakka into the air like a missile. Mid-flight, Riven gestured again. “Chainfire Arc!” From the floating glyphs above, dozens of red-blue bolts shot downward, bombarding Brakka as he fell. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. He crashed hard, embedded into the stone with smoke rising from his body. The bindings retracted. Silence fell. Then— “I’M. NOT. DONE!” Brakka burst out of the crater, blood trickling from his lip, and charged again, this time punching the ground. “Ragequake!!” A seismic wave of red-hot stone and shockwaves surged across the arena — breaking chunks off the platform’s edge. Riven was forced to leap to a smaller floating stone. Brakka jumped after him — now a living engine of rage. On the far side, Selra’s voice rang out. “Don’t give him the pace! You know how to shut him down!” Riven reached deep — his tattoos flaring up his neck, eyes glowing fully white. “Final Phase… Gate of Compression.” A massive rune circle, twice the size of any before, formed around him. The very air folded inward. Brakka flew forward for one final punch— BOOOOOM! Time slowed. The rune detonated in perfect precision — a contained vortex of force pulling inward, crushing all motion, all energy, imploding Brakka’s momentum into zero. When the light faded— Brakka was flat on the platform, chest heaving, unmoving. The crowd was dead silent. “Winner of Match One… RIVEN of REALM THREE!” Selra gave a short, satisfied nod. Vorga, watching from the other side, spat to the ground. “You’ll pay for that.” As healers moved to carry Brakka from the field, Riven exhaled and turned away, walking off the platform with sparks flickering from his feet. One victory earned. One Realm shaken. And the Tournament had only just begun. REALM FOUR VS. REALM SIX — FIGHT! The arena’s stone floor trembled as the four warriors faced off, the floating island glowing faintly beneath their feet. Vael and Nyss of Realm Four moved like shadows fused with deadly precision, their movements fluid and synchronized. Across from them, Kaelen and Iris of Realm Six stood calm and composed, their contrasting styles of wind and radiant energy poised to strike. Kaelen was the first to move, his glaive slicing the air as he spun forward in a blur of wind. The blade sang, trailing a gale that whipped fiercely toward Vael. Without hesitation, Vael vanished into a pool of shadow on the ground, the gale slicing harmlessly through empty darkness. “Here,” Nyss whispered, voice like silk wrapped in steel, launching herself into the attack. She rolled beneath Kaelen’s wind gust and surged upward, daggers poised for a strike. Kaelen barely had time to raise his glaive, deflecting one blade but the other grazed his forearm, drawing blood. Iris stepped forward, staff glowing with golden light, and hurled a spear of radiant energy toward Vael. The beam caught Vael mid-dodge, searing his side and causing him to grunt in pain. But before he could react further, Vael triggered a hidden smoke bomb, thick gray mist swirling rapidly around the fighters, cloaking the arena in near darkness. The crowd gasped, the air thick with tension. Kaelen shouted, “Iris! Illuminate!” Responding, Iris lifted her staff, releasing a brilliant burst of light that sliced through the smoke like a beacon. Shadows scattered as the battlefield revealed itself once more. Nyss lunged from the mist, daggers whistling as she aimed for Iris’ exposed side. Iris barely blocked the strikes, parrying with a radiant shield that sparked with power. She counterattacked with a wave of energy, forcing Nyss back. Vael materialized behind Kaelen, blades flashing in twin arcs aimed at the warrior’s back. Kaelen twisted sharply, releasing a violent burst of wind that shoved Vael off balance. Vael crashed into the arena’s edge but rolled to his feet, snarling. Kaelen turned to Iris. “Keep Nyss busy! I’ll handle Vael.” Iris nodded, her golden staff glowing brighter as she faced Nyss. The two circled, exchanging fast, precise strikes — Nyss’ daggers moving so quickly they were barely visible, Iris’ light-infused strikes cutting the air with elegant force. Vael wiped blood from his lip, then eyed Kaelen with fierce determination. He sprinted, shadows stretching beneath him, and with a burst of speed, he closed the gap. Kaelen braced himself as Vael’s twin blades came down in a deadly cross. The glaive met the strike with a clang, the force sending sparks flying. Kaelen spun backward to absorb the blow, then pushed Vael away with a gust of wind. But Vael’s eyes gleamed with cunning. He vanished into the shadows once more — this time, splitting into three shadow clones that surrounded Kaelen from all sides. Kaelen’s gaze flicked between the clones and the real Vael, calculating. The clones attacked simultaneously — one slashed low at his legs, another darted toward his midsection, the third aimed for his throat. Kaelen spun his glaive in a wide arc, catching the first two attacks, but the third found a gap. A blade nicked his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Kaelen growled, focusing. He raised his glaive overhead and struck the ground, releasing a powerful shockwave of compressed air that shattered the clones into nothingness. The real Vael was thrown backward, panting. Meanwhile, Iris and Nyss’ battle had grown more brutal. Nyss lunged forward, throwing dagger after dagger, each strike deflected by Iris’ radiant shield. But Iris was tiring, sweat beading on her brow. Nyss feinted left, then vaulted over Iris’ guard, slashing with a hidden blade aimed for Iris’ ribs. Iris stumbled but managed to twist away, retaliating with a concentrated blast of light that knocked Nyss off balance. Kaelen saw his partner faltering. With a roar, he surged forward, wind roaring around him as he slammed into Vael with his glaive, knocking the assassin off his feet. Vael hit the ground hard but rolled back onto his feet, eyes burning with hatred. Kaelen grinned, “You’re fast, but you’re not invincible.” Vael snarled, “Neither are you.” The two locked eyes, both warriors breathing hard, sweat mixing with blood. Behind them, Nyss and Iris circled, waiting for the right moment to strike again. Suddenly, Vael signaled Nyss. In perfect unison, the Realm Four pair vanished into the shadows — only to reappear behind Kaelen and Iris, daggers and blades flashing. Kaelen reacted instantly, spinning his glaive to create a whirlwind that deflected the incoming strikes. Iris raised her staff, calling down a pillar of radiant light that forced Nyss back. The arena shook as power clashed — shadow and wind, light and steel, mixing in a fierce dance of death. The swirling vortex of wind and light battered the shadows where Vael and Nyss hid. Kaelen’s glaive whipped furiously, carving arcs through the air, while Iris’s radiant pillars of light forced the assassins to retreat step by step. But Realm Four was relentless. Nyss vanished, reappearing high above the arena’s edge, launching herself down in a deadly dive aimed at Iris’s exposed back. Iris spun just in time, swinging her staff upward, colliding with Nyss’s momentum. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the platform, forcing both to stagger. Vael seized the moment, springing from the shadows behind Kaelen with twin blades poised to strike. Kaelen barely twisted away, feeling the cold rush of steel graze his shoulder. He gritted his teeth but retaliated instantly, swinging the glaive in a wide arc that knocked Vael sideways. Kaelen and Iris exchanged a quick glance — no words needed. They were in sync. Iris’s staff flared, summoning a blinding flare of light that engulfed the entire arena. Vael and Nyss shielded their eyes, momentarily blinded. Using the advantage, Kaelen charged, spinning his glaive like a cyclone. Nyss tried to dodge, but Kaelen’s attack was relentless. His blade caught her mid-roll, slicing through the smoke and tearing a deep cut across her side. Nyss hissed but refused to fall. Vael lunged, desperate, his blades flashing dangerously close to Kaelen’s throat. Kaelen caught one blade with his glaive, the force nearly breaking his grip. With a powerful kick, he shoved Vael back, then leapt high, bringing the glaive down in a crushing strike. Vael rolled away just in time, but the blow sent a shockwave that cracked the arena floor beneath him. Iris joined in, her staff pulsing with radiant energy. “Now, Kaelen!” Kaelen nodded, and together, they unleashed a combined attack: a whirlwind of wind and light that swept across the battlefield. Vael and Nyss tried to resist, but the power was overwhelming. Vael’s shadow cloak flickered and tore, Nyss staggered, her daggers dropping from numb fingers. With one final blast, the duo from Realm Six forced their opponents to the ground, panting and beaten. The arena fell silent for a heartbeat. Then, the announcer’s voice thundered: “VICTORY — REALM SIX!” Kaelen and Iris stood victorious, bruised but triumphant. They helped each other to their feet, nodding in respect toward their fallen foes. Vael wiped blood from his mouth, a fierce smile crossing his face. “Well fought. Next time… we’ll see who truly reigns.” Nyss gave a weak grin. “Don’t get comfortable.” As they retreated from the arena, Kaelen and Iris shared a brief smile — their teamwork had won the day. The crowd erupted in cheers. Realm Six had proven their strength. “LISTEN UP, WARRIORS AND FANS ALIKE! THE EPIC SHOWDOWN BETWEEN REALM EIGHT AND REALM TWO IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE! BUT HOLD UP — BEFORE THE CHAOS UNLEASHES, IT’S TIME FOR A BREAK! CHARGE UP, GET READY, AND STAY ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEATS — THIS IS WHERE LEGENDS ARE MADE!” the announcer roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the arena. “Excuses,” Tirion sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. Zero let out a short, bitter laugh, but the smile quickly faded as his eyes darkened. “It’s fine. Besides, I’m not using my flames this time.” Tirion’s gaze sharpened, disbelief and curiosity flashing across his face. “Then what are you planning to use?” His voice dropped low, edged with caution. Zero’s tone grew even more serious, heavy with resolve. “My ice... or more precisely—my Ice Dragonic Form.” For a moment, Tirion was silent, eyes widening as if struck by a sudden realization. Then a slow, cold smile curled at the corner of his lips. “Interesting. I wasn’t expecting that. This tournament just got a lot more dangerous… You’re not the only one with a dragonic form, you know.” Zero’s eyes narrowed. “So, you have one too? What element?” Tirion smirked, about to answer when the announcer’s booming voice cut through the tension: “BREAK TIME’S OVER! REALM EIGHT AND REALM TWO — STEP INTO THE ARENA!” Both Zero and Tirion walk down the steps, another two figures walk down on the opposite side. From the opposite side of the arena, two figures descended with steady, confident strides. The first was Marek Voss, a towering warrior clad in gleaming crimson armor etched with swirling runes that pulsed faintly with an inner fire. His piercing amber eyes scanned the battlefield, radiating calm menace. Known as the “Crimson Juggernaut,” Marek’s brute strength and relentless offense made him a terrifying force on any battlefield. Beside him walked Selara Nyx, a lithe and graceful figure shrouded in flowing midnight-blue robes embroidered with silver stars that shimmered like the night sky. Her cool, calculating gaze betrayed an intellect honed by years of arcane study. Selara, the “Shadow Weaver,” commanded powers of darkness and illusion, bending light and shadow alike to confuse and strike with deadly precision. As their eyes met those of Zero and Tirion, the tension in the arena thickened — two worlds of raw power and cunning about to collide. Zero’s eyes widened as a surge of raw power radiated from the two newcomers—an energy eerily familiar, like the same ancient force that fueled him and Tirion. His mouth parted slightly in realization. “I see… you both wield dragonic forms as well, don’t you? Let me guess — one commands the shadows of the dragon, and the other, the fury of lava?” Marek’s lips curled into a slow, confident smile. “Sharp as always, Zero. I am indeed the Lava Dragon’s wrath made flesh.” His voice rumbled like molten rock shifting beneath the earth. Selara stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with cool intensity. “And I am the Shadow Dragon’s veil, weaving darkness where none can see.” Her tone was calm but edged with quiet menace. Zero nodded, a newfound respect settling in his gaze. “Then this battle… will be unlike any other.” The arena’s atmosphere instantly warped as the four warriors began their transformations, the very air thrumming with ancient, primal energy that seemed to tear at the fabric of reality itself. A deafening silence fell across the arena—heavy, tense, alive with the pressure of unleashed destinies. Then, with a single exhale, frost curled from Zero’s lips. His eyes shifted first—deep blue irises becoming crystalline, glowing with an inner storm. The ground beneath him crackled as a thin layer of ice spiraled outward in a web of jagged veins. The sky above darkened not with clouds, but with swirling shards of snow and frozen mist that danced around him like spirits drawn to his awakening. Then came the sound—bones creaking, energy surging. Frost erupted from his back as enormous, jagged wings unfurled—sleek yet powerful, their membranes semi-transparent like glacial glass. His arms and legs lengthened, muscles rippling under a rapidly shifting skin that hardened into icy, silver-blue scales. Claws extended from his fingers—razor-sharp, coated in a layer of frost that never melted. His tail lashed behind him, long and spiked with icy ridges that shimmered under the arena lights. Horns spiraled from his head, sleek and angular like frozen obsidian, curling slightly back like the crown of a true dragon king. From his chest radiated a cold light—an ancient, unforgiving chill born of the deepest frozen abyss. As the transformation neared its peak, mist hissed from his mouth with every breath, and his voice echoed with dual tones: one his own, the other something older, colder, and not entirely human. “I am the breath of the storm… the will of winter… the Ice Dragon’s legacy reborn.” Snow began to fall. But this was no natural snow. Each flake hung heavy with energy, freezing solid anything they touched for even a moment too long. The arena floor crackled, and frost crept up its stone pillars like vines hungering for warmth. Zero stood tall, regal and dangerous—no longer just a warrior. He was a hybrid force of ancient power, eyes locked on his draconic foes across the battlefield. “Now,” he growled, ice curling around his feet with every step, “let’s see if fire and shadow can withstand the storm.” As Zero’s icy presence swept across the battlefield, the air grew tense again—not from cold, but from sheer pressure. A deep metallic hum filled the arena, as if the world itself held its breath in anticipation of something heavy… indomitable. Tirion took a step forward. The ground cracked beneath his foot—not shattered like ice, but split by density, as though the earth strained to bear his presence. Sparks danced up his frame, and a dull clanging began to echo with each heartbeat. His eyes glowed—not with fire, nor frost—but with a piercing, silvery glare that seemed to cut through everything it beheld. Then—BOOM. His body pulsed outward with force. Bands of steel burst from his back, spiraling and twisting into massive, armor-plated wings, each feather-like segment razor-sharp and forged of living alloy. His skin morphed, layer by layer, into polished blackened steel etched with glowing, molten-red seams that pulsed with every breath like magma flowing beneath a forged shell. His shoulders widened, a thick tail formed of overlapping armored plates coiled behind him, tipped with a bladed spike. Jagged horns erupted from his head—brutal, angular, forged like twin greatswords stabbing into the sky. From his arms extended gauntlet-like claws, gleaming with metallic sheen, capable of rending through mountains. Steam hissed from vents along his spine, every exhale a release of built-up pressure from the core of a living forge. Tirion stood—not as a man, but as a titan of steel and power incarnate. “I am the forge that shapes fate. The Steel Dragon’s heart beats through me.” His voice thundered, metallic and cold, echoing like a hammer striking an anvil across the heavens. With a flex of his fingers, shockwaves rippled through the ground, and a magnetic field surged around him, pulling loose stones and debris to orbit him like moons around a planet. Zero’s frost met Tirion’s raw density—and the battlefield trembled at the convergence. “Let’s remind them,” Tirion growled, his gaze locked with Zero’s, “why dragons were feared by gods.” The ground beneath Marek began to tremble—not a mere rumble, but a deep, guttural growl as though the core of the world had taken offense. Heat surged across the arena, evaporating the frost that clung to the stones near Zero, and even causing Tirion’s metallic armor to hiss. Then—cracks. Glowing red fissures spiderwebbed beneath Marek’s feet. Lava bled from the fractures in slow, pulsing waves. His body ignited—not with flame, but with pure magma, veins glowing bright orange through his skin as his human form struggled to contain the force awakening within. With a roar, it was unleashed. His body expanded, muscle and stone intertwining. His skin darkened into obsidian, slick with glowing cracks that pulsed with molten energy. Lava leaked and cooled across his body, forming armor-like plating jagged and uneven like volcanic cliffs. His back erupted in a burst of flame as enormous wings took shape—massive, tattered membranes of fire and volcanic rock, constantly shifting and shedding droplets of magma. Horns spiraled upward and out like molten blades, dripping fire at their tips. His mouth split into a jagged grin, revealing fangs glowing white-hot. Clawed hands dripped with lava, each flex leaving burning scars on the ground. From his chest radiated a red-hot light like the heart of a volcano, beating in sync with the earth’s own fury. Then came his voice—deep, guttural, and cracked like thunder through ash. “I am eruption given form. The Lava Dragon’s wrath, born to incinerate.” As he stepped forward, the ground liquefied in his wake. Ash began to fall from above, thick and black, swirling with embers like a volcanic blizzard. The arena began to warp under the overwhelming heat—pillars melted at the base, and the once-stable battleground twisted into a battlefield of chaos. He raised a clawed hand, magma swirling in his palm like a miniature sun. His grin widened as he met Zero’s icy glare and Tirion’s steely resolve. “Let’s see which element outlasts the end of all things.” As fire scorched the air, steel shook the ground, and frost carved through silence, darkness fell—unnatural and absolute. ONE BIG PARAGRAPH NO CHANGES! Selara closed her eyes. The moment she did, the light around her flickered—not extinguished, but consumed. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the arena, coiling like serpents drawn to her presence. A whisper—not of voice, but of absence—echoed across the battlefield. Then, she vanished. The arena darkened—sky, stone, sound—all swallowed in a suffocating black mist. Then, from within that void, two glowing violet eyes snapped open. Selara stepped forward from the darkness—not walking, but gliding, her feet barely touching the earth. Shadows pulsed from her like waves, coiling around her limbs and solidifying into sleek, scale-like armor of glistening obsidian-black. Her body elongated, more agile and serpentine than the others, a figure of grace born from night’s embrace. Wings unfurled from her back—gossamer-thin yet impossibly vast, like the torn veil of a starless sky. They emitted no sound, no shimmer—only void. Her claws weren’t made of bone or steel, but of sharpened shadow, shifting and reshaping at her will. Her tail slithered behind her, barely seen but always felt, leaving trails of distortion in the air. From her back rose a crown-like ridge of dark horns, twisted and elegant, wrapped in runes that shimmered like constellations glimpsed through a storm. With every movement, the world around her seemed to dim, as if reality recoiled from her presence. When she spoke, her voice was like wind brushing across a grave—calm, elegant, but heavy with hidden menace. “I am the veil between light and death… the unseen claw, the hush before the slaughter. I am the Shadow Dragon’s breath.” The darkness exploded outward in a silent burst—not fire, not frost, not pressure, but the erasure of presence. The arena fell into brief silence as even Marek’s lava dimmed, and Tirion’s armor dulled. Selara floated beside her brother, eyes fixed on Zero. “Let them come,” she whispered. “Their light cannot pierce what they cannot grasp.” Zero smirked, his breath misting the air like a coming blizzard. “Ice and Steel vs. Lava and Shadow… This’ll be fun. Tirion—” he cracked his knuckles, icy sparks flying off his scales, “—which one do you want?” But before Tirion could respond, a blur of darkness darted across the battlefield. Selara—silent, precise—came from the blind spot. A blade of shadow arced for Zero’s throat. But Zero didn’t move in panic. His eyes shimmered faintly Instinct Veil active. He had seen it coming minutes before the first strike. In a heartbeat, Zero twisted, ducked under the shadow slash, and spun—his thick, frost-covered tail slammed into Selara with the force of a collapsing glacier. She crashed into the ground, carving a trench through the arena floor. Zero grinned, tail coiling around her neck like a serpent of winter. “Guess that answers that. Shadow Dragon’s mine.” He raised his head. Icy vapor swirled around his open jaw as the air temperature plummeted. “ICE DRAGON ROAR!!” From his mouth erupted a massive, concentrated breath of ice—roaring like a blizzard given life. The icy beam tore through the air, freezing and shattering everything in its path, but just as the cold storm reached Selara, she vanished into the shadows, dissolving like smoke into darkness. Before Zero could react, she reappeared behind him—a ghost slipping through the cracks of reality, silent and deadly. Zero’s instincts flared. With a lightning-fast pivot, he spun on his heel, his fist smashing into Selara’s jaw like a hammer striking steel. The impact sent her soaring across the arena, crashing into the stone wall with a thunderous crack, dust and debris exploding outward. Selara slumped against the broken wall, momentarily stunned—but her violet eyes burned with fierce resolve. Selera rubs blood off her mouth, “Now that was a good hit I give you that…But, how is it your able to predict what I’m doing!?” Selera said. Zero then whispered, both of his arms covered in deep black up till his elbow. Red and white Aura emitting from his arms, his scales on his arm getting more reinforced, “It’s called Instinct Veil…I can see your every move…” Marek’s molten eyes locked onto Tirion with a savage grin. “They won’t be the only ones wrecking this place.” He coiled low like a volcano on the verge of eruption, then shot forward with explosive force. “Molten Lava Dragon Punch!” His fist ignited instantly—cracking molten rock fused with blistering lava, flames roaring and licking the air, sending waves of searing heat that made the very ground beneath him glow red-hot and crack with molten fissures. Tirion didn’t hesitate. With a thunderous leap, he blasted off the ground, wings unfurling like gleaming blades of steel, the sound of grinding metal echoing through the arena like a warhorn. “Steel Dragon Punch!” he roared, his armored fist encased in jagged shards of razor-sharp metal, spinning with deadly precision, sparks flying with every twist of his arm. The moment their fists collided, the arena shuddered violently—a shockwave ripped through the air, uprooting trees, splintering stone pillars, and sending dust and debris swirling into a choking storm. Steel shards tore through the air, whistling like deadly missiles, slicing through ancient stone and scorching the earth, while rivers of molten lava burst outward, hissing and boiling as they ignited scorched craters wherever they splattered. The intense heat caused the air to shimmer and warp, distorting the battlefield like a mirage, while chunks of scorched earth and molten rock exploded outward with every tremor of their titanic clash. Deep grooves gouged themselves into the arena floor, steam rising as underground magma pockets cracked open, releasing bursts of fiery smoke that billowed like storm clouds. Both warriors stood unyielding amid the chaos—muscles taut, eyes blazing with fury—each strike sending ripples through the very foundation of the realm itself, the raw power of their battle reshaping the world around them. Zero’s icy gaze sharpened, the cold aura around him flickering with renewed intensity as the shockwaves from the battle rippled through the arena. His breath formed small frost clouds in the heated air—an ironic contrast to the molten chaos erupting nearby. “They’re tearing the place apart…” he murmured, voice low but steady, his tail twitching with restrained power. His eyes flicked to Selara, measuring her calm in the storm. “Ready to dance in the shadows again?” he challenged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Selara’s eyes glinted like obsidian, shadows gathering and swirling around her in response to the violent spectacle. She crossed her arms, a sly smile curving her lips as the embers from the molten fight cast flickering lights across her dark scales. “Impressive… but brute force won’t win this,” she said coolly, voice smooth like velvet dipped in venom. Her form shifted subtly, the shadows clinging tighter to her, as if feeding off the fiery destruction nearby. “Let’s see if your ice can cut through the darkness, Zero.” The tension between them thickened, the frozen air around Zero clashing with the creeping shadows around Selara—two primal forces poised to collide once more amid the raging battle. The frozen shards hung thick in the air, shimmering like deadly crystals as Zero’s breath chilled the battlefield to near silence. Selara’s shadows writhed and twisted, dark tendrils reaching and retreating like living smoke. They circled, eyes locked, the tension between ice and shadow electric—each waiting for the other’s next move. Suddenly, Selara surged forward, her form dissolving into a storm of shadows that swirled and struck from every angle. Zero’s Instinct Veil flared, guiding his movements with uncanny precision as he dodged and parried with claw and tail. With a roar, Zero slammed his palm to the ground, summoning a blizzard that tore across the arena, freezing the very shadows themselves. The darkness hissed and recoiled but Selara twisted mid-air, merging with the shadows that seeped into cracks and crevices, refusing to be extinguished. In one final desperate gambit, Selara erupted from the shadows, her form solid and fierce, claws glowing with dark energy as she lunged for Zero’s throat. But Zero’s eyes gleamed with unwavering resolve. Gathering every ounce of his icy might, he unleashed his ultimate roar—a towering wave of frost and ice that slammed into Selara with unstoppable force. The blast shattered the shadows, freezing them solid in a sparkling cage of ice. Selara collapsed, breathless, her dark aura flickering weakly. Zero lowered his arms, chest heaving, the cold settling back into his scales. He offered her a steady gaze, voice calm but resolute. “It’s over, Selara. This battle belongs to ice.” Selara’s lips curled into a faint, grudging smile as she nodded, shadows retreating into silence. “For now…” she whispered, fading back into the darkness, leaving the arena awash in icy stillness. The battlefield roared with the fury of molten rivers and scorching flames as Marek unleashed his volcanic wrath, the very air thick with blistering heat and crackling embers. Lava cascaded like molten waterfalls, burning everything in its path, while the ground beneath them groaned and cracked. But Tirion stood unwavering, a living fortress of gleaming steel and unbreakable resolve. His armor shimmered coldly against the fiery onslaught, each breath releasing a metallic clang that rang like a war bell across the arena. With a fierce growl, Tirion charged through the burning flood, his movements precise and unyielding. Marek’s fist slammed down in a crashing wave of lava and rock, but Tirion’s steel scales absorbed the impact with a deafening clash. Summoning every ounce of his strength, Tirion’s arm morphed into a blinding blade of razor-sharp steel, humming with lethal energy. “Steel Dragon’s Edge!” he bellowed, launching a strike charged with unstoppable force. The blade tore through Marek’s molten defenses like an icebreaker through thick ice, shattering the burning shield and cleaving deep into the core of the Lava Dragon’s power. Marek’s roar turned to a guttural gasp as his molten form cracked and cooled, fiery veins solidifying into brittle obsidian under the relentless assault. Flames flickered and died, his molten rage extinguished by the cold precision of steel. Tirion stood tall amidst the smoldering ruins, his chest heaving, steel gleaming like a beacon of victory. “Steel conquers flame.” Marek sank to one knee, the fierce fire in his eyes now tempered with grudging respect. “You’re stronger... this time.” The arena fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the distant echoes of their titanic battle—a testament to power, endurance, and the cold inevitability of steel’s dominion over fire. The deafening roar of the battle finally began to fade, replaced by a tense silence that blanketed the arena. The swirling dust and shattered remnants of the battleground slowly settled as the energy of the fight dissipated. A commanding voice echoed throughout the realm, reverberating from the floating towers and into the ears of all gathered. “From the depths of the 8th Realm, the final duel concludes!” “Zero—the Ice Dragon—and Tirion—the Steel Dragon—have tested their limits in a clash of frost and metal.” “But today, Tirion—the Steel Dragon—claims victory in this brutal contest of fire and steel!” The crowd erupted into cheers and murmurs of awe, the intensity of the moment palpable. On the battlefield, Tirion’s steel form began to shimmer, the jagged armor dissolving like mist in the morning sun. His massive wings folded back as his metallic scales faded into gleaming skin, until he stood once again as the warrior beneath the steel. Nearby, Zero’s icy form quivered, the crystalline scales and frozen wings cracking gently as shards of ice shimmered and melted into vapor. His tail retracted, and his horns softened as the fierce chill surrounding him evaporated, returning him to his human shape. Zero met Tirion’s gaze, a flicker of respect passing between them—silent acknowledgment of a battle well fought. The arena’s atmosphere shifted, the stage set for the next challenge as the warriors caught their breath, preparing for what was yet to come.