Anonymous Quote: "The making of greatness starts with resolute determination."
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The murmur of the crowd rose like a restless tide beneath the vast canopy of the Imperial Colosseum in Region 1 of the Nazare Blade Empire. Thousands of voices filled the air—laughing, betting, arguing—as nobles in richly embroidered robes clustered in their private booths, sipping on sparkling fruit wine while lower-born spectators hustled for better seats in the public tiers. Above them, banners of different regions flapped lazily in the breeze.
A blaring horn silenced some of the chaos, followed by the booming voice of the colosseum's long-time public announcer, Peter Reitch. With a voice like thunder in a bottle and dramatic flair honed from decades of crowd-work, he stepped onto the raised announcing platform with flourish.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the empire!" he bellowed, raising both arms like a priest blessing his congregation. "Prepare yourselves for a match unlike any other!"
The crowd responded with a rumble of anticipation.
"This fight… will be between the undefeated—yes, undefeated!—blind swordsman… NAZE!!"
The mention of the name was like striking a match in a dry forest.
The crowd exploded.
Cheers thundered across the colosseum like a war drum beat from the heavens.
"NAZE! NAZE! NAZE!" they chanted in unison, some clapping rhythmically, others slamming mugs together, sloshing drink and slurring praise.
He had become a legend of blood and steel—the Beast of a Man. The story of how he, despite being blind, had defeated Agra the Giant had turned into tavern ballads and betting-table lore. Every time he stepped into the arena, the crowd got a little louder, a little crazier. Women swooned, children mimicked his style with wooden sticks, and drunk old men claimed to have known him before he became a sensation.
"And now…" Peter Reitch lowered his voice for dramatic effect, "His opponent will be... Cain Zuli."
The moment the name was spoken, silence slammed into the colosseum like a hammer on glass. The cheers choked in mid-air. Cups stopped mid-raise. Even the wind seemed to hush in reverence.
The name was not one thrown around lightly.
Up in the royal booth, the 1st Prince—Balek Aratat— abruptly stood up from his seat, face taut with alarm. His eyes narrowed. He hadn't authorized this.
Cain Zuli was his man.
His secret protector.
A blade in the shadows, rarely seen, never spoken of. A cultivator of terrifying prowess—ranked at the 9th Level of the Ocean Flooding Realm, on the cusp of breaking into the fabled Beyond Mortal Realm. A realm that could bend the rules of reality and physics. For him to be placed in a public spectacle? This was either a colossal mistake—or a move orchestrated by someone with power and a dark agenda.
Meanwhile, whispers spread like wildfire across the colosseum:
"Did he say Cain Zuli?" "The Shadow Fang of the imperial palace?" "Why would he be here?" "Naze might actually lose this one…"
Understanding of power levels made the tension even worse.
The Empire had five major cultivation zones:
1. Foetal Power Realm (Level 1–10)
2. Ocean Opening Realm (Level 1–10)
3. Ocean Flooding Realm (Level 1–10)
4. Beyond Mortal Realm (Level 1–10)
5. Indestructible Realm (Level 1–10)
Josh Aratat's soldiers, however, operated under the Kingly System, a unique cultivation structure that synchronized with 5 major cultivation zones—they present a—15 military-style ranks from Lieutenant all the way to King, with a rare, nearly mythic zone known as Above King Level.
These 15 ranks starts from
1. Lieutenant
2. Major 1,
3. First Sergeant,
4. Corporal,
5. Brigadier,
6. Brigadier General,
7. Second Lieutenant,
8. Major 2,
9. Lieutenant Colonel,
10. Captain,
11. Major General,
12. Colonel,
13. Lieutenant General,
14. General,
and 15— King...
There is the Above King level but that is placed in another ranking system.
Most of Josh's generals had already broken into the Major General Rank, equivalent to 1–3 levels into the Beyond Mortal Realm, while the core members hovered in the Lieutenant Colonel or Captain Ranks, dominant forces within the late Ocean Flooding Realm.
But Naze?
He didn't fit the mold.
Naze wasn't ranked. He didn't cultivate like the others. His power came from a unique physique, refined by constant death matches, forged in the furnace of combat. There were theories—some claimed he was a walking formation of raw instinct and sword essence. Others whispered he might be a divine experiment gone rogue.
No one knew.
And that uncertainty made everyone nervous.
Because today… he was going up against a monster whose power had been carefully hidden from the world.
And the Trickster God? The being pulling strings from beyond reality, the one who had turned these fights into his personal theatre of chaos—he watched from the void, chuckling.
Because today's performance promised to be glorious.
The underlings of Josh Aratat presents a strong line up, however that wasn't enough to face the trickster god who transcended mortality, but could still be killed with the right weapon and strategy.
Cain Zuli was at the 9th level of the Ocean Flooding Realm—an elite in his own right. But his opponent, Naze, was a different case entirely.
He didn't rank like the other underlings. He belonged to no known cultivation tier, no formal realm, and no sect dared claim him. If one were to estimate his strength by traditional standards, it would appear he was at a disadvantage. But that was the exact trap—those who underestimated him rarely walked away. A rough ranking, though, gives him the strength equivalent to the 10th Level of the ocean flooding realm, but it is impossible to guage his actual strength.
It was this unknown variable that made many uneasy.
Both fighters were yet to emerge from the gladiator tunnel beneath the Imperial Colosseum, but their names had already set the spectators on edge. The tension was palpable.
Cain Zuli—his name was slightly less well-known than the infamous Scarlet Raven, yet it rang with weight and consequence. He was Prince Balek's personal assassin, the blade in the dark that ended uprisings before they began. His connection to the royal house ran deep. It was whispered he'd once saved Princess Jerusha's life when Prince Alloysius attempted to have her killed via hired assassins in the infamous Region 22, a territory known for being a graveyard of failed missions.
Even Prince Jaden, as proud and cold as he was, had once acknowledged Cain's worth with a respectful nod at court—a gesture that said volumes.
In the royal viewing platform, Prince Balek glanced toward the Trickster God, who sat nearby on his floating throne with that perpetual smirk etched across his face. The prince's eyes narrowed briefly, but he quickly reined in his irritation. He could not afford to offend a divine madman. Not here. Not now.
Instead, Balek exhaled and returned to his seat with deliberate calm, signaling faith in his champion.
He picked up his golden goblet and took a measured sip of wine, as if none of his earlier tension had existed at all.
The surrounding nobles, high officials, and foreign dignitaries all turned their gazes toward him, searching his expression for signs of worry or strategy. What they saw puzzled them.
His features had returned to their usual cold neutrality.
"Poor prince," one of the whispering nobles muttered under his breath. "Even his father, the Emperor, was consistently humiliated by that lunatic Trickster God. At least the boy is wise enough to know his limits."
The gossip spread in hushed waves as the arena prepared for the emergence of two killers—one, trained and lethal like a scalpel; the other, strange and unreadable like a wild force of nature.
The crowd held its breath.
And beneath the Colosseum, in the darkness of the tunnel, two shadows slowly began to stir.