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The arena was a crater of silence.
Dust and scorched mana particles drifted lazily through the air like ash after a storm. All eyes were fixed on the platform, the tension so thick it could be carved with a blade.
And then—movement.
Two figures slowly came into view as the smoke cleared.
Silas stood at the very edge of the platform, dark robes fluttering with the fading pulse of mana. His chest rose and fell rapidly, beads of sweat dripping from his chin. His arms trembled, and his once-pristine cloak was frayed at the ends. The toll of Dark Sun: Erase had clearly drained him.
At the center of the stage stood Caelan Virelith.
Or rather, what remained of him.
The top half of his clan robes had been shredded, revealing a lean, muscular frame marred by cuts and burns. His skin shimmered faintly, veins pulsing red with arcs of crimson lightning. Crimson Overdrive was still active, though dimming. Blood oozed from his wounds—but as the crowd watched in awe, the blood began to retreat back into his body.
The cuts sealed.
His breath steadied.
A hushed murmur swept across the arena.
"He's... healing," someone whispered.
"No recovery pill can do that," said a Clan elder.
Theron Virelith narrowed his crimson eyes, his expression unreadable. He watched the crimson lightning and self-regenerating flesh, lips twitching in thought.
> So, it's true.
> He's awakened the Dragon Bloodline.
> But...
> Even this doesn't feel like the full picture.
Still, Theron said nothing. His thoughts remained his own.
From the heir stands, Seryn exhaled slowly. "That's the furthest I've ever seen Silas pushed."
Lysander crossed his arms, eyes focused. "By someone still at Initial Silver and True Mage stage, no less. Unbelievable."
"Not just someone," Dorn grunted. "That's Caelan Virelith."
On the arena stage, Silas lifted his gaze, his black eyes cool and unwavering. "You can't keep going like this," he said flatly. "Your body's on the edge. Forfeit, Caelan."
Caelan's eyes sparked.
"Not happening," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll only stop when I can't move anymore."
Red lightning crackled across his shoulders as he poured mana back into Crimson Overdrive, reigniting the arcs with new fury. The pain lanced through him—but he welcomed it.
Silas sighed, shaking his head. "Very well."
He raised a hand.
"Limit Break."
A violent pulse erupted from his body.
Purple mana flared around him in a blazing inferno. The air thickened as ambient mana rushed to his form. His black eyes glowed with ethereal violet light. A weight settled across the arena like a storm about to descend.
From the pavilion, Velian Stormbrite's eyes widened. "The Evolution System... granted him that?"
"He's breaking past his stage's limit," Malrik murmured. "He's pushing his power beyond the natural cap... temporarily."
On the arena floor, Silas didn't hesitate. With one arm raised, a beam of dark energy shot from his palm—a concentrated stream of pure darkness.
Caelan raised his swords to block—but the force was overwhelming. The beam pushed him backward, feet skidding across the stone platform. His arms trembled from the force.
> Damn it... I can't hold this forever.
He channeled his mana and cast two lightning bolts from his free hand.
Silas was forced to twist aside, halting his dark beam to deflect the bolts.
> Now!
Caelan dropped into a low stance. His blades hummed in his hands.
> The Virelith Sword Arts...
> I've only mastered three stances. That'll have to be enough.
"Virelith Clan Sword Arts," he muttered.
He inhaled deeply.
"First Stance: Flame Bolt!"
His entire body ignited in flame as he dashed forward like a burning arrow. The sudden speed caught Silas off guard. Mana surged around him as he hastily summoned a barrier.
Caelan crashed into it with a loud crack. The barrier split—crumbling like glass.
He dropped into a squatting position as his blades hummed again.
"Second Stance: Rising Sun!"
A massive burst of flame erupted beneath him.
The shockwave launched both Caelan and Silas into the air. The crowd gasped.
Midair, Silas recovered first. He spun, firing a dark beam upward.
Caelan's body, heavy with pain, surged with one last push of mana.
"Third Stance..." he whispered.
His eyes locked onto Silas. Time seemed to freeze.
"Descending Star!"
Flames exploded around him as he plummeted like a meteor. His twin blades shimmered with heat as he crashed through Silas's dark beam, parting it like silk.
Silas tried to summon another barrier—too late.
BOOM!
The two slammed into the arena floor.
A massive dust cloud rose.
Silence.
Then—
The dust cleared.
Caelan was on one knee, gasping for breath. His body swayed, cuts reopening across his chest. Crimson Overdrive flickered, then vanished completely.
Across from him, Silas lay motionless in the cratered center of the stage. His Limit Break aura had dissipated, and his eyes were closed.
The arena was dead quiet.
The proctor stepped forward slowly, looking from one heir to the other.
"Victor... Caelan Virelith!"
Cheers erupted.
Theron closed his eyes, a small smirk forming.
> He did it.
Velian nodded quietly. "That boy... is a monster in the making."
As the noise grew louder, Caelan looked toward the sky, chest rising and falling.
> I won...
> Barely.
> But I did it.
Then he collapsed forward.
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