"And ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."
Ephesians 6:4 (KJV)
Murmurs of confusion and curiosity filled the audience. Everyone wanted answers.
What happened to Colton? Didn't he lose? How did the forcefield get pierced?
"Ladies and gentlemen, looks like we have an upset on our hands!" the announcer exclaimed. "It appears Colton has accessed the true form of his ability!"
"What you're witnessing is something we Seraphites know as Convergence! When a Seraphite achieves complete mastery and understanding of their ability, their soul can resonate with it completely, unlocking powers unique to that individual!"
"Convergence is incredibly difficult to achieve, especially with more complicated abilities. Though, in rare cases, a Seraphite may reach it through a near-death experience!"
"This young chap already has access to his Convergence, and he hasn't even received the academy's training? This is talent at its peak!" Daniel said. He and his sister, Angelina, had arrived shortly after the first fight due to traffic.
"What about you, bro? When did you unlock your Convergence?" Angelina asked, taking small sips of her drink.
Daniel's cheeks became slightly rosy. "That's classified information, nosy girl. Pay attention," he chuckled awkwardly.
The truth was, he hadn't.
A vast majority of Seraphites lived their entire lives without unlocking their latent potential. There wasn't much research done on the topic due to it being extremely difficult and dangerous. One could train for a hundred years and still not unlock it.
Most people who had achieved Convergence described it as becoming the ability, but as expected, it was incredibly difficult to replicate. Colton's achievement was already rare. His age made it even more spectacular.
Melanie and Stephanie were watching the fight as well.
"Colton's still going, sis. Your weird friend still finna get his ass whooped!" Melanie cheered.
Stephanie ignored her sister, her eyes trained on Tristan. She had been sure Tristan was going to win the fight, but now that his opponent had revealed a hidden power, skepticism had set in.
Tristan, I don't know what you're planning, but this is the endgame. Whatever cards you have stored, you better reveal them.
A Convergence could instantly tip the scales of any fight due to its unique, powerful, and unpredictable nature. If Tristan couldn't adapt fast enough, he was inevitably going to lose.
Tristan stood opposite the entity, still fascinated by the new form.
"Do you think this new power changes your fate? No matter how strong you become, no matter how hot your flames burn, I will extinguish them," Tristan sneered.
The entity raised its hand and clenched its fist, molten ichor sizzling as it dripped from its body.
"This is where you are wrong. We might stumble, we might fall. But we shall NEVER stay down."
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
We?
The demon had heard the entity's words earlier. Something about failing their son. Realisation washed over him like a tide.
Could it be?
"Our flames can never be extinguished, and will only continue to grow hotter, till we scorch our victory into your flesh!"
Tristan sprinted towards Colton, eyes glowing. When he was at arm's length, he pivoted to the side and threw a punch straight at the entity's temple. The punch tore through the air with tremendous force.
The entity caught Tristan's fist effortlessly. Despite the tremendous force behind it, the attack didn't even budge him.
How strong did he get? To be able to stop my attack so effortlessly?
Tristan's original plan was to continue testing Colton until he slipped up, broke, or tired out. Now, he wasn't so sure.
The entity slowly brought Tristan's hand down, twisting his wrist. Molten ichor began to flow from its arm, slowly encasing Tristan's fist.
Such a pathetic attempt to—
His eyes widened. Pain shot through his body like a bullet as the ichor seared and burned his flesh. The stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils. Tristan gritted his teeth as the ichor ate at his flesh.
This pain. It's Hell all over again!
Tristan fired beams of light from his eyes. A dark, volcanic substance coated the entity's torso. The beams fizzled out, unable to do any damage.
For a second, the molten ichor receded. In that short window, Tristan yanked his damaged hand from the entity's grip. He sprang backward, creating distance between them.
The demon clutched his forearm, staring at his fist. The wound had already begun healing, but the initial damage was clear. The skin around it had completely peeled away. It felt like dozens of knives were being dragged across his flesh at once.
"Does it hurt?" the entity questioned, suddenly appearing in front of Tristan.
His instincts screamed.
When did he—
The entity drove its foot into Tristan's gut, his stomach compressing around the impact. The force of the stomp sent him flying out of the stage, cinders and smoke trailing after him. His body slammed into the arena's walls. A plume of dust rose into the air. The audience cheered.
Such speed and strength.
Tristan's pride would never let him admit it, but he felt slightly threatened. The demon pulled himself out of the cracks in the wall.
I didn't cross realms, escape a Seraphite facility and a police station, just to fall to a mortal!
Raw ichor erupted from him in a violent pulse. The shockwave rolled outwards, causing the atmosphere in the arena to slightly change and the forcefields to ripple. Tristan's eyes glowed with even more intensity, like twin suns in a vacuum.
Ichor writhed around his hands and feet, spreading up his arms to his elbows and up his legs to his calves. Once completely covered, the ichor condensed, forming a thick layer of protection.
"Again!" Tristan roared.
In the blink of an eye, he was in front of the entity. Tristan threw a punch at its head. The entity tilted its head to the side, Tristan's hand soaring off the mark.
It attempted to grab his hand, but Tristan fired beams from his eyes at its palm. Once again, the volcanic material instantly materialized, shielding its palm from damage.
The demon stomped the ground, forcing the entity back.
Just like before, it defends with this strange substance.
Tristan's eyes narrowed at the entity as it slowly walked toward him.
Its defenses have already proven strong enough to withstand everything I've thrown at it. I've been thinking too small!
"Don't look down on me!"
Tristan's irises flared, and beams erupted from his eyes at point-blank range. The entity immediately raised the protective substance over its face, shielding itself from the attack.
The demon smirked.
It's just as I expected.
The molten ichor coating his arms suddenly vanished. Still locked in the entity's grip, Tristan unleashed beams from his palms as well, firing alongside his eyes.
The protective substance didn't spread to its hands in time. Already concentrated around its face, it failed to reach Tristan's palms before the beams struck.
Tristan's grin grew wider.
I've been trying to overwhelm it with my strength and ability. I've been so lost in my brutish methods that I didn't even realize I've been using a multi-target ability one direction at a time.
The entity withdrew its hands, staring down at its palms in shock. Blood began to spill from the points of impact.
"We are hurt?"
For the first time in the fight, its face displayed emotion.
"Even in death, we still cannot protect our son? What good are we to him, Maria?"
It murmured to itself, saddened.
This entity strongly relies on two abilities: the protective substance and the molten ichor.
Tristan watched the blood drip from its palms.
The protective layer appears whenever I attack. The moment it focuses on defending itself, the molten ichor recedes. And whenever the molten ichor returns, that protection disappears.
His eyes narrowed.
It can't use both at the same time.
Tristan recalled their previous exchanges.
The protective layer is the most important one. It's what stops my attacks from doing any meaningful damage. The molten ichor is dangerous, but I can endure it.
The demon finally understood.
So I don't need to overpower it. I just need to force it to make a choice.
Tristan slowly straightened.
This entity lacks skill and finesse. It only relies on its ridiculous physical prowess and abilities.
His gaze hardened.
Whatever it is, it lacks the technique and wit of that mortal, Colton.
Tristan stepped forward.
The entity suddenly swung. Tristan ducked beneath the attack and drove his fist into its ribs.
It didn't budge.
Molten ichor suddenly coated the entity's arms as they came crashing down. Tristan rolled away, but not before the sludge singed his shoulder.
The entity closed in, attempting to stomp the crouched Tristan. The demon raised his hand, preparing to fire a beam from his palm at its exposed area.
The entity's entire nether region was covered in the protective layer, anticipating the attack.
But it never came.
"Mortals. Your gullibility never ceases to amaze me!" he sneered, grabbing the elevated foot with both hands.
Tristan dug his foot into the arena floor. His heel scraped against the stone as he pivoted his hips, using the entity's elevated leg as leverage.
With a violent twist, he hurled it toward the edge of the arena.
The entity crashed into the arena's walls.
Not letting up, Tristan raised his hand, curling his fingers into a claw-like position. Five dense light beams shot out from his fingers at the entity.
The light beams began to converge toward its sternum. The volcanic layer of protection spread rapidly across its chest.
Tristan smirked to himself.
It seems this entity is incapable of learning!
At the last second, the beams abruptly diverged. What the entity had expected to strike its chest instead split apart, the five beams piercing its exposed body from multiple angles.
Blood sprayed from the newly opened wounds as the entity released a bone-chilling scream, one that anyone who had watched the fight from the start would recognize.
"That voice," Melanie muttered.
"Colton is still in there. I concluded he might not be steering at the moment, but whatever pain is inflicted, he feels," Stephanie stated.
This fight should have been over the moment Tristan choked him out. Now it seems he still has a chance to beat Tristan, but at what cost?
The young woman was worried her new friend would go too far and get disqualified.
"Tristan Ashborne," the entity pulled itself free from the damaged wall. "You have hurt our son time and time again. You derive pleasure from harming others weaker than yourself. We have concluded that you're cruel. So cruel that we can't let you advance in this tournament. So cruel that we can't let you live."
It put its palms together, slowly bringing them down to its stomach.
The entity began to advance toward Tristan, each step it took leaving a trail of molten ichor and scorch marks. The temperature of the arena began to rise rapidly. The forcefields instantly deployed, shielding the audience from the scalding heat.
Tristan stood in the square, watching the entity closely. As far as he was concerned, this fight was already over.
He had poked and prodded the Seraphite until he discovered the weakness of his Convergence. He had already tested his theory twice, exploiting the nature of its abilities.
Whatever he has planned is futile—
Thick pillars of molten ichor erupted from the ground around Tristan, forming a ring around the square.
The columns did not recede. They continued to surge upward in violent bursts, like geysers erupting from beneath the arena floor.
Tristan walked toward one of the pillars. He ran his ichor-reinforced hand through it and immediately withdrew.
All the ichor coating his hand was instantly burnt to ash as the molten ichor ate through his protection and viciously attacked his flesh. His entire hand was scorched so badly that he could see the layers of skin mending themselves in real time.
This heat. It's intensified?
"Welcome, Tristan Ashborne, to the Prison of Regret. It will also be your resting place," the entity said calmly.
As he spoke, the pillars slowly but surely began to shrink around the square.
The shrill screech of the microphone rang through the arena as the announcer held it.
"Colton Walter, you have expressed your intent to take Tristan Ashborne's life on two occasions now. Following the outlined rules, you have now been disqualified from the contest!"
The audience was filled with grumbles; they clearly didn't want the fight to end in a disqualification.
Tristan looked up angrily at the announcer, his eyes glowing.
"You dare interrupt my battle for your insignificant rule system. How dare you?" he roared.
Another pulse of ichor erupted from him, slamming into the forcefield.
The announcer looked at the dissatisfied crowd and angry contestant.
This isn't going to end well. But it's whatever. Their funerals, not mine.
"It seems Tristan wants this fight to continue. Should he fall in this fight, any injury or death will be his responsibility. Continue!"
"These pillars surrounding us will continue to grow hotter as they converge until you're completely consumed. Your hopes, dreams and aspirations will be reduced to nothing but ash," the entity concluded.
At this point, the pillars had gone past the square, slowly edging closer. Tristan could feel the heat spreading across his skin.
He suddenly pointed at the entity, firing a beam of light aimed at its leg.
The beam pierced through its skin, blood pouring from the wound. The entity gritted its teeth in pain but held the pose it had assumed.
It's stopped using its protective layer. That could only mean one thing; it's pouring all its ichor into its fire ability.
Tristan fired another beam of light from his palm, piercing through its shoulder. Blood flowed downward, fizzing into gas before touching the ground.
The entity closed its eyes tightly. Molten ichor began to pour from the entity's eyes as it cried out in agony.
The pillars suddenly grew in size, enclosing at an even faster rate. Tristan could now feel his skin scalding as the heat grew.
I have to end this. But if I kill him, I'll be disqualified.
An idea sprang into his head.
"You. What kind of horrible parents are you?" Tristan spat.
The entity's eyes snapped open, its focus now on Tristan.
"Such a pathetic attempt to cancel the process. You will soon perish along with your insults!" it cried out.
A stream of molten ichor shot out from one of the pillars, burning the skin off Tristan's back. The scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils.
Yet, he gritted his teeth through the pain and slowly advanced towards the entity.
"I'll perish along with your son if this madness continues. Look at the state he is in!" Tristan yelled.
For a moment, the entity's visage softened, but its scowl soon returned.
"Stay out of matters that don't concern you!" it said.
"Even beyond the grave, you still torment Colton. This boy possesses scary potential and is a formidable combatant. This young man's ambitions and dreams all revolve around rising above the superiors you fell to. But the second he gives you control, you hurt him this bad? Answer me this: what's more important? Killing me or your son's life? Because his body can't take anymore punishment, both from this technique and my light beams!"
The flame pillars were now a few feet from them.
Tristan dropped to one knee, pain and heat ravaging through his body.
"If these pillars move even an inch closer, I will send Colton to Hell. Stop this madness!" Tristan growled.
The entity's face was a blanket of sorrow. Tears of molten ichor continued to fall from its eyes.
It looked away.
"Maria. What have we done to our boy?" it murmured.
The pillars swayed slightly.
"We can't keep doing this."
The entity turned to Tristan.
"Tell our boy—that Maria and Davis are sorry. For everything."
The entity dropped its hands.
The pillars of ichor slowly began to weaken and dissipate, leaving large scorch marks in the floor.
The entity dropped to its knees, its ichor fading.
Looking at it, Tristan almost pitied it.
Colton and his parents were victims of the Seraphite's system. He was in no way a saint, but seeing other creatures, creatures that were supposed to be the chosen spawns of their god, suffer like this slightly angered him.
"If it's any consolation, I'm not of royal descent. Just like you people, I am nothing to my superiors," Tristan said.
For the first time in the entire round, the entity smiled.
"Thank you... For your mercy, Tristan Ashborne."
A plume of thick, black smoke rose from its lips, completely engulfing it. At the same time, the temperature began to return to normal.
When the smoke was finally gone, Colton's scrawny frame came into view. The colour of his skin had been restored, covered in bruises and ash. Some of his injuries had vanished along with the entity as well.
The young Seraphite lay on the floor, unconscious but alive.
"Ladies and gentlemen! The winner of this round has finally been decided: Tristan Ashborne advances to the 20-man bracket!"
The audience erupted into cheers and whistles.
Stephanie let out a deep sigh, smiling inwardly, while Melanie grumbled to herself.
As the healers entered to retrieve Colton, Tristan couldn't help but glance at him one more time.
A formidable foe indeed. Colton Walter, your strength, technique and power will not be forgotten.
He wondered how Colton would fare if he fought him with his full demon form after deactivating his disguise.
Some healers tried to attend to him, but he declined since all his wounds had already healed by themselves.
The demon made his way back into the waiting area.
In the audience, a group of people were busy on their phones.
"Damnit! I put all my winnings from the previous round on that Colton chap. How did he lose?" a woman with dirty blonde hair said.
"So did I! That Tristan guy is a fucking monster. Insane strength and speed, high-speed regeneration, and that light beam ability. Talk about winning the genetic lottery."
Amongst the losers was a woman in a black dress who was grinning at her phone.
"Looks like I made the right choice, didn't I, Tristan?" Drusilla chuckled.