CHAPTER 39: The Thirty-Nineth Fracture

The arena dimmed—not with shadow, but with anticipation.

Sunlight filtered through veils of ancient glyphs hovering in the sky, as if even the heavens dared not interrupt what was about to unfold.

A low hum rumbled beneath the stone—deep, ancient. The battlefield pulsed with the heartbeat of something far older than the world itself.

Then—high above the field—twin glyph-rings spiraled open.

From their centers descended thrones: one crystalline steel, entwined with white vines and rivers of goldlight. The other, forged from midnight-blue alloy, crowned with obsidian and carved moonstone—regal, grim, and timeless.

Principal Lyra and Principal Xena appeared atop them—elevated above all. The crowd erupted—then fell silent. Their presence silenced even magic.

A single glyph blazed above the arena, casting divine light across both academies.

Its voice boomed—neither human nor god, but somewhere in between:

“THE INTER-ACADEMY TRIAL… BEGINS.”

Lyra rose, her voice calm and glacial.

“Today’s first battle is not a match. It is a reckoning. Witness it well.”

Xena stood, and her words shook the sky like a war drum:

“Sukara of the Academy of Fractured Light.

Valkor of the Seraphyne Institute.

Let the first match… begin.”

Golden chains coiled upward as the central dueling platform rose—an obsidian disc wrapped in radiant runes and flickering stars.

From opposite sides, the combatants stepped forward.

Sukara’s boots struck the platform with quiet finality. Violet gravity curled around him like a tide answering his will. Three orbs rotated above his glyph circle—synchronized, lethal, watching.

Valkor emerged in a storm of kinetic force, lightning trailing off his skin, red eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

They met at the center. Neither bowed. Neither blinked.

“You made it,” Valkor snarled. “I thought you’d run crying into your lab like the scared little reject you are.”

“You talk a lot for someone whose biggest accomplishment is being loud,” Sukara replied.

“Careful,” Valkor growled, stepping forward. “Say one more thing, and I’ll crack your skull open right here.”

“Go ahead,” Sukara said. “Break your knuckles trying.”

From the stands behind them, Saaya leaned forward, her hand gripping the edge of the balcony, eyes fixed only on Sukara.

“Stay focused,” she whispered, barely audible.

But her voice reached him.

“You’re just another arrogant musclehead who thinks yelling equals power,” i said. “But that’s fine. I’ll make this quick. You’ll be unconscious before you realize you lost.”

Valkor laughed—short, sharp, hateful.

“I’m going to fry you alive and leave nothing for your little girlfriend to cry over.”

“Say that again,” Saaya’s voice rang out—louder now, fierce.

Valkor turned his head just slightly, eyes locking onto her. “What? Afraid he’s not man enough to protect you?”

Her eyes didn’t flinch. “No. I’m afraid of what he’ll become when you push him too far.”

Valkor scoffed, returning his gaze to Sukara. “Cute. You’ve got her fooled.”

Sukara stepped forward. “She’s not the one who’s fooled.”

“Fifty percent,” he added. “That’s all I’ll need.”

Valkor’s expression twisted. Electricity exploded from his skin, grounding into the obsidian.

“YOU’LL DIE FOR SAYING THAT!”

“I’ve died before,” Sukara replied. “It didn’t stick.”

Saaya stood tall now behind the glass barrier, her glyph glowing faintly at her feet.

“Sukara,” she said, firm but quiet. “Do not hold back. Not even a little. Not against someone like him.”

Her words didn’t scream.

They didn’t need to.

They cut through everything.

The violet glyph beneath Sukara’s boots pulsed brighter. The orbs around him accelerated. The air warped—dense, unreal, heavy.

Valkor gritted his teeth. His fists clenched. Yellow lightning spiraled outward, cracking reality around him.

“I’ll tear you apart atom by atom,” Valkor roared. “I’ll shatter your bones and drag your corpse across this arena!”

Sukara raised a single hand. His aura flared, gravitational waves rippling outward like breath from a star.

“You’re not going to touch me,” he said, voice low and absolute.

“And you’ll never lay a hand on her.”

The crowd sat frozen.

No cheering.

No movement.

Only silence.

Two forces stood at the center of the world.

Time held its breath.

The duel was no longer just a match.

It was war.