Beneath the towering celestial arena, the dust of fallen warriors still lingered in the air. The battlefield lay silent, yet the weight of what had transpired was heavier than ever.
A single youth stood alone.
Alexander Magnus—untouched, unshaken, undefeated.
Every force watching understood what this meant.
A new peak had appeared in the younger generation.
And for some, that was an unacceptable truth.
---
Kael Vortanis – The General of Dominion
At the highest seat of the VIP stands, a single man exuded an undeniable aura of war.
Kael Vortanis.
Warlord of the Imperial Blood Battalion, conqueror of three battlefronts, and a veteran general of countless wars.
He was no mere strategist—he was the sword of the empire itself.
Unlike the refined scholars or scheming nobles, Kael was a man of the battlefield.
His physique was tempered through thousands of life-and-death battles, every inch of his body carrying the scars of wars that lesser men would never survive.
Draped in his black-gold imperial battle robes, his every movement carried the sharpness of a drawn blade.
But more than his presence—it was his aura that made cultivators tremble.
—Dominion Force.
The martial authority of an Overlord-tier warlord.
When Kael stood upon a battlefield, lesser warriors found themselves unable to move.
Their wills crumbled.
Their strength faltered.
And the moment they doubted themselves—they were already dead.
That was Kael Vortanis.
An emperor of war.
Yet today, for the first time in a hundred years—he felt an unease creeping into his veins.
He had fought many rising stars. He had crushed thousands of prodigies before they could become true threats.
But Alexander Magnus?
That was no mere prodigy.
That was a monster beyond reason.
Kael's golden eyes narrowed.
"If he is not eliminated… this world will belong to him."
A terrifying thought.
Even more terrifying… was the realization that it might already be too late.
---
Other Watching Titans
Kael was not the only one whose heart was stirred.
Far across the arena, elders and supreme prodigies of different races watched the scene with narrowed eyes.
Among them was Saintess Lysara of the Celestial Divine Pavilion.
She was a peerless beauty draped in flowing white silks, her platinum hair cascading like divine moonlight. Her every step carried a saintly radiance, and her delicate hands were adorned with celestial scriptures.
Yet her divine glow dimmed ever so slightly as she gazed at Alexander.
"…That presence. The way he commands reality itself… It is unnatural."
Even her Celestial Vision, capable of glimpsing into fate, failed to see through him.
That alone was an impossibility.
No mortal, no cultivator—not even peak immortal sages—could escape the threads of fate.
Yet this youth stood outside of the heavens' decree.
Lysara's hands tightened around her prayer beads.
"Is he a calamity? Or… is he something beyond even that?"
A few seats away, another presence burned with demonic fire.
Duke Mordain, Abyssal Flame Overlord.
A towering figure cloaked in black infernal armor, his very existence was a beacon of demonic might.
Unlike Lysara, he did not fear Alexander's existence.
No—he was intrigued.
His burning eyes gleamed.
"This is what it means to be born supreme. This is what true dominion looks like."
He chuckled, the flames of hell curling around his breath.
"The heavens loathe him, yet they cannot erase him."
"Perhaps the demons should embrace him instead."
Across the different sects and clans, myriad thoughts clashed.
Some saw Alexander as a future rival.
Some saw him as a threat that must be stopped.
And others—saw the beginning of an era they could not escape.
---
Kael's Silent Fury
Kael Vortanis had seen enough.
His gloved fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne-like seat, his battle-honed mind already calculating.
Alexander Magnus was a problem.
And there was only one solution to problems in his world—war.
His eyes flickered to one of his aides, a cloaked figure standing silently beside him.
A whisper passed between them.
A silent command.
Within moments, the wheels of fate turned.
Somewhere in the shadows of the arena, an unseen force stirred.
An assassin of unparalleled skill, bound by an imperial decree, prepared to move.
Kael's golden eyes gleamed.
If the battlefield could not bury Alexander Magnus… then the darkness would.
And this time, he would ensure there were no survivors.