Rebecca stood nervously at the center of the arena, her hands trembling despite the fire sparking at her fingertips. Across from her, Aida, the sorceress from Murdoc's team, stepped forward with eerie calm as the referee signaled the start of the match.
Cael's unease deepened, something about Aida unsettled him, though he could not yet place why.
Rebecca began to circle the arena, each step conjuring small orbs of flame that hovered in her wake. Her movements grew quicker, her walk turning into a sprint as she fired blazing arrows toward Aida.
But the arrows passed harmlessly through her.
Rebecca skidded to a stop, a new plan came to a fruition. She pressed her hands together, her rune flaring yellow and orange. A glowing circle blossomed beneath her feet, and with a torrent of fire, a wraith cloaked in flame rose from the summoning.
It lunged at Aida with blistering ferocity.
Aida simply raised her hand, a shimmer of violet aura surged then a purple barrier wrapped around her body, absorbing the wraith's onslaught without effort.
Rebecca gasped for breath, sweat dripping down her face. Summoning had drained her, and holding the fiery wraith strained her body further.
Aida lifted her staff, its purple eyes glinting. With a resounding crack, she slammed it against the ground.
Cael's gaze sharpened. "That staff…" he muttered.
From the sidelines, Murdoc smirked. "Here it comes."
A massive phantom serpent, erupted from the ground. Its maw gaped wide, swallowing the fiery wraith whole before dissipating its embers into nothingness.
Rebecca's eyes widened in awe and dread, she summoned flames beneath her feet and propelled herself backward, barely retreating out of reach as the serpent hissed, its fangs snapping inches from her.
The phantom slithered back toward Aida, coiling protectively around its master before vanishing into the shadows behind her.
The crowd murmured, tension thick in the air.
Aida lifted her staff to cast again but Rebecca raised her hand. "I surrender."
The referee immediately signaled, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.
"Winner, Aida!"
Cheers erupted as the sorceress lowered her staff and stepped gracefully down from the arena. On her way out, she cast a fleeting glance toward Cael, he met her eyes, studying her intently, unease gnawing at him.
Rebecca slumped onto the bench, shoulders sagging, her face clouded with disappointment. Geist, ever full of energy, plopped down in front of her. With a grin, he patted her head. "You did well, your control's way better than before!"
Rebecca's lips tugged into the faintest smile.
Then the referee raised his voice again. "And for the next bout, Cael versus Brisk!"
The arena buzzed with excitement as Brisk strode forward, Murdoc's spearman. He wore fitted bone armor adorned with a beast's mane draped over his head, with scarred right eye. Hairy, broad-shouldered, he spun his long spear and thrust it skyward, riling the crowd into cheers.
"And his opponent… Cael!" the referee called.
The cheers faltered, the crowd gasped and exchanged uneasy glances, Cael was nowhere to be seen.
The arena fell into a hush of confusion.
The referee called again but Cael never showed up, Geist looks at Cael's bench before gesturing for the referee to wait.
Meanwhile, in a shadowed alley far from the roar of the arena, Cael moved silently, his eyes fixed on Aida's retreating figure. He kept to the darkness, tailing her with deliberate patience.
When she reached the alley's depths, he stepped forward, his presence cut through the gloom. "You…" His voice was steady, cold. "You reek of Veyrith."
Aida froze mid-step, slowly, she turned her head, her right eye gleaming a sinister violet. Purple streaks bled through her hair, her frame shifts unnaturally. Fangs pushed past her lips, the staff in her hand cracked and split, revealing the hidden weapon within.
She hissed, the sound echoing like a predator in the dark.
Cael's gaze didn't waver. "Why are you here? What business does a Veyrith have in a warrior district? Do you really want to die that badly?"
Aida's lips curled back in a feral sneer. "You human pests… this city should already be burning. Today was meant to be the attack. And yet here I am, wasting time with a human Zero." Her aura pulsed with venomous hatred. "This place sickens me."
She slammed her staff down, the ground rippled as spectral serpents erupted from the cobblestones, hissing and writhing, dozens of them surging toward Cael in a storm of fangs.
And still, he stood calm.
Back at the arena, Cael sat quietly in his usual place. In the center, the announcer introduced the final bout, "Geist versus Murdoc." The crowd thundered in anticipation.
Annisa approached him, her steps light but her tone tinged with concern. "Cael… your match was forfeited, victory was handed to Murdoc's team."
Cael lowered his gaze, guilt in his voice. "I'm sorry."
Annisa shook her head with a gentle smile. "It's okay, we still have our squad leader. He'll win this round, I'm sure of it."
The two of them looked toward the arena floor, where Geist and Murdoc stood face-to-face, the weight of the final battle settling over them like a storm about to break.
Murdoc sneered down at him, voice booming across the arena. "Hey rookie, you don't stand a single chance. Give up while you can!"
But Geist didn't flinch, his gaze stayed sharp and unwavering, fixed on the towering opponent before him.
The referee's hand cut through the air. "Final round of this competition, fight!"
Murdoc moved first, with a single swing of his massive arm, a gust of wind rushed forward, buffeting Geist. In his other hand, a massive spiked club materialized, its weight shaking the ground as he brought it crashing down.
Geist leapt aside just in time, the arena floor shattering where he had stood, landing lightly, he drew his sword.
Murdoc roared and pressed the assault, swinging the club in wide, crushing arcs, Geist weaved through the storm, dodging left and right, every motion measured, step by step, he closed the distance.
At last, he slipped into Murdoc's guard, eaising his blade in one hand, he prepared to deflect whatever might come next. Then, with his free hand, he extended four fingers and thrust them toward Murdoc's abdomen.
A pulse of force exploded from the impact, an inch punch, concentrated and devastating.
Murdoc staggered back, the blast tearing the air, his groan echoing as the shockwave flung him across the arena floor.
Murdoc's teammates exchanged uneasy glances as the referee began to count. For a moment, it seemed the match might be over.
But Murdoc wasn't finished, he rose slowly, his fury burning hotter than his pain. "How dare this rookie… humiliate me in front of everyone…" he muttered, trembling with rage.
When the referee reached five, Murdoc's glare snapped to him. "Shut your pipe, or I'll carve your head next!"
The referee paled and immediately leapt out of the arena, refusing to risk it.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
Murdoc roared, his aura erupting outward in a suffocating wave. His skin seared and cracked, glowing like molten lava as smoke coiled from his body. The massive club in his hands burned away its wooden shell, revealing the true weapon beneath, a steel club, blackened and brutal, his eyes flared yellow.
With terrifying speed, he strode forward, the club swung in violent arcs, left and right, heavy enough to splinter stone with every strike.
Geist closed his eyes, to him, each attack wasn't just muscle and fury, but ripples in the air, disturbances he could sense and anticipate seconds before they landed. He dodged, smoothly, weaving between the titanic swings.
But then, something changed.
Murdoc's pace quickened. Faster. Stronger.
To Geist, the ripples blurred, multiplying until they became a storm. His vision darkened, the world reduced to a thousand phantom clubs falling like rain from every direction.
His eyes snapped open, he immediately raised his blade to block, only to feel a crushing impact from the side, he had read the wrong strike.
The blow sent him skidding across the arena floor, the crowd gasping at the first clean hit Murdoc had landed.
From the benches, Cael narrowed his eyes, studying Murdoc's movements.
"It's not just raw power…" he realized. "Murdoc's transformation didn't simply enhance his strength, it multiplied his strikes within a single swing."
For an instant, Cael's eyes flared crimson, he focused on the haze around Murdoc sharpened, he saw it, four afterimages layered atop one another, each swinging in tandem, distorting reality itself.
Unease stirred among Murdoc's team.
Sentry, watching from across the benches, caught the flicker in Cael's gaze, his eyes widened. He squinted, trying to catch it again, but when he looked, Cael's eyes had already returned to normal.
Uneasy, he grabbed at Brandt's shoulder. "Hey, look at him. Did you see?"
But Brandt was too absorbed on the fight raging in the arena, Sentry snarled under his breath, something about Cael unsettled him deeply.
Geist staggered under the relentless assault, his blade ringing with every desperate block. The air itself trembled beneath Murdoc's fury, he searched for an opening, any opening, but the strikes came too fast and too heavy, leaving no room to breathe.
Gritting his teeth, Geist pushed off the ground and vaulted upward, for a heartbeat he seemed to dance across the afterimages themselves, tapping against the blurred echoes of Murdoc's swings as if they were solid ground.
But in his vision, the truth revealed itself, five Murdoc, their giant arms crashing down in unison. Each phantom carried the same crushing weight as the real one, and if even a single blow connected, it would be enough to break him apart.
Murdoc grinned, his taunt booming over the roar of the crowd. "What's the matter, rookie? Can't do a thing now?"
But Geist never flinched, his eyes stayed sharp, with unbroken focus.
With a snarl, Murdoc twisted his massive frame and spun with frightening speed. His steel club became a storm, a tornado of crushing force, the wind whipped outward, pulling Geist into its orbit, tugging at his body as though the air itself were betraying him.
Geist's mind raced, every possible escape flashed before his eyes, but each route ended the same. The arena was too narrow, his movements were being funneled, dragged inevitably toward the heart of Murdoc's strike.
Geist closed his eyes once more, he never intended to use it, not yet, but the moment demanded it, he exhaled slowly, steadying his breath, and the world around him began to slow.
He lifted his blade before him, his fingertips brushed the steel from tip to hilt, and the weapon lit with a radiant blue glow.
From the benches, Cael leaned forward, watching intently, as Geist shifted his stance.
A blue oni mask of formed over Geist's face, followed by gleaming spaulders upon his shoulders, his sword elongated, reshaping itself into a gleaming katana burning with azure energy, he positioned it just above his shoulder.
Geist's voice rang out, "Sanguine Tempest!"
In a blur, he vanished forward, his blade thrust past Murdoc's chest in a single, precise motion. The arena seemed to shudder with the force of it.
The crowd held its breath, sparks and arcs of blue electricity snapped through the air, tracing Geist's path.
Murdoc froze, his spin faltered, the tornado collapse, his molten skin dimmed, aura breaking apart as he staggered. With a final groan, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Geist stood over him, the blue mask already burning away into flickering embers before vanishing, his katana dissolved back into its normal blade.
Silence hung in the arena.
Then the referee, still stunned, scrambled back onto the platform. he raised Geist's hand high. "A… and the winner is… Geist's team!"
The stadium erupted in thunderous cheers, the sound shaking the walls as victory was declared.
In a narrow, shadowed alley not far from the stadium, a small gathering had formed. Whispers rippled through the onlookers as they stared at the sight before them.
A woman lay unconscious on the cobblestones, beside her rested the shattered remains of a purple staff, its broken fragments still faintly pulsing with dying light.
The victorious team stood proudly as the merchant approached, carrying their prize. With a broad smile, he presented a gleaming sword to Geist, who accepted it with childlike excitement, raising it high as the crowd cheered once more.
But Cael's eyes weren't on the celebration, he stepped closer, studying the blade with a quiet intensity. His senses traced along the weapon, and he felt it, a faint, lingering familiar presence.
"Veyrith…"
He knew it well, some of these so-called treasures weren't just relics, they were vessels, infested with the spirits of the Veyrith, able to seep into human hosts as part of their infiltration.
The trace he felt was weak, almost dormant, not enough to expose here, not yet.
Glancing at Geist, who was practically glowing with joy at their prize, Cael said nothing, he let it slip for now.
"If the time comes," he decided grimly, "I won't hesitate."
To Cael, the mystery remained unsolved, how the Veyrith infiltrated, how they gained such influence over humankind, none of it was yet clear.
But for now, the team basked in their triumph, cheering thundered through the arena as flower petals rained down like blessings, smiling faces beamed as they waved to the crowd, their joy shining bright beneath the sun.
Far away, deep within a shadowed forest, the atmosphere was very different.
A Veyrith sat in a chamber of stone, his ashen hair falling across his blank, pitiless eyes. With a snarl, he slammed his hands against the table, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. "Useless… all of it useless!" He swept scrolls and relics to the ground, pacing with growing agitation. Their plans of infiltration were a failure, the great fortress still beyond their grasp.
The door creaked open.
"Not now!" the Veyrith snapped.
A figure stepped inside, a Human at least by appearance. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his smile glimmered faintly, he set something on the ruined desk.
"I just got the right item for you," the figure said smoothly. "This will let you disable their defenses."
The Veyrith paused, his gaze dropped to the object, a fragment of a runed weapon, humming faintly with dormant power, slowly, a cruel sneer curved his lips.
Then, his head turned, his gaze stretching far beyond the walls of the forest chamber fixing upon the shining victor standing proudly on the center stage.
"Geist…" he hissed. "Soon, that flesh will be mine."