The Imperial Colosseum did not feel like a training ground anymore. It felt like the epicenter of a natural disaster.
Kai and Prince Zhao Long charged at each other from opposite sides of the molten arena. They didn't bother with feints or complex footwork. This was a pure, unadulterated test of their physical vessels and their wills.
Zhao Long's Earthly Fiend foundation pushed his body to its absolute limit. The magma-veins beneath his obsidian skin glowed with blinding, subterranean light. He channeled every drop of his Tier 2 (Pseudo-Solid) Qi into the massive, black star-iron of his Abyssal-Core Gauntlets. As he ran, the sheer tectonic gravity radiating from him caused the stone bedrock beneath the sand to physically buckle and groan.
Kai met the charge with the terrifying, silent speed of his [Agility: 30]. His Stage 2 Titan-Pulse musculature rippled under his ruined uniform. He gripped the Sovereign's Edge with both hands, his Five-Element Cultivation roaring down the conduits of the blade. The charcoal-grey meteor steel screamed, the high-frequency vibration reaching a pitch that shattered the remaining spirit-glass windows in the lower observation decks.
"Show me the bottom of your core, Hart!" Zhao Long roared, leaping into the air for a devastating, double-fisted meteor slam.
"I'll show you the anvil!" Kai yelled back, planting his heavy boots, the 2x gravity cuffs anchoring him perfectly to the earth as he swung his blade upward in a flawless, two-handed vertical cleave.
KRAK-OOOOOM!
The collision eclipsed everything.
When the screaming high-frequency edge of the Tier-2 sword met the hyper-dense kinetic mass of the Tier-2 gauntlets, the resulting shockwave didn't just kick up sand. It completely vaporized the top layer of the Colosseum floor. A massive, dome-shaped blast of compressed air, orange magma-fire, and five-elemental light exploded outward.
The shockwave hit the other combatants like a physical wall. Maya dug her boots in, screaming as she angled her Deep-Earth Shale shield to protect Robert and Yan from the blast, while the Second-Year veterans were violently thrown off their feet, tumbling backward in a tangle of limbs.
In the center of the blinding explosion, time seemed to stop.
Kai's blade was lodged inches deep into the thick, spiked joint of Zhao Long's right gauntlet, the high-frequency edge desperately trying to saw through the star-iron.
Simultaneously, Zhao Long's left gauntlet was pressed directly against Kai's sternum. Kai had dropped his left hand from his sword at the last millisecond, catching the Prince's spiked fist with his bare palm. Kai's bones groaned, his [Endurance: 38] and dense iron-weave muscles absorbing a kinetic impact that would have liquefied a normal human.
For three agonizing seconds, they pushed against each other, locked in a flawless, trembling stalemate.
Then, their internal Qi pools simultaneously ran dry.
The glowing magma-veins on Zhao Long's neck flickered and faded. The screaming, high-frequency hum of Kai's sword died out. Even Anvil, the Qilin-pup who had been frantically pumping feedback Qi into Kai through the Soul-Link, let out an exhausted whine and slumped onto the sand.
Both the Transmigrator and the Prince blinked. The absolute, world-ending pressure holding them upright vanished.
They collapsed simultaneously, falling backward like felled timber, hitting the glassed sand side-by-side.
Silence crashed back into the Colosseum, broken only by the sound of heavy, ragged breathing and the settling dust.
Vice-Dean Kael slowly lowered his arms, having instinctively deployed a Grandmaster wind-barrier to protect the faculty stands from the blast. He looked down into the massive, smoking crater in the center of the ring.
Kai lay flat on his back, staring up at the blue sky. His arms felt like lead, and his chest ached with a dozen micro-fractures, but he was alive. His physical vessel had held.
A few feet away, Prince Zhao Long was in the exact same position. The heavy black gauntlets had deactivated, slipping off his bruised hands.
"My arms..." Zhao Long wheezed, staring at the sky. "I can't feel my arms."
"My ribs are powder," Kai rasped, spitting a mouthful of soot to the side. "If you had half an ounce more Qi in your core, you would have punched my heart out of my back."
"If your sword had vibrated for one more second," Zhao Long countered, a weak, breathless laugh escaping his lips, "you would have taken my hand off at the wrist."
The Prince slowly turned his head, his striking violet eyes looking at Kai. There was no arrogance left. No sneering superiority of the royal bloodline. The crucible of combat had burned all the political garbage away, leaving only the raw, undeniable truth of their strength.
"You're an absolute monster, Hart," Zhao Long grinned, his teeth stained slightly with his own blood. "I've never fought anyone who could take an Earthly Fiend strike head-on and just... catch it."
"You're a complete maniac, Prince," Kai shot back, a genuine, exhausted smile touching his own face. "You threw away a priceless Imperial heirloom sword just to punch me with rocks."
Zhao Long barked a laugh that devolved into a painful cough. "Swords are too fragile! I like to feel the bones break. Listen, Hart... when we deploy to the Fringe, you better not die to some random alien scout. We aren't finished. I'm going to forge my core to Tier 2, and then I'm going to snap that fancy blade of yours in half."
"You can try," Kai said, his molten-gold eyes gleaming with fierce respect.
With a monumental effort, Zhao Long lifted his bruised, trembling hand across the sand. Kai mirrored the movement.
Their knuckles bumped weakly over the smoking glass. It wasn't a formal Imperial greeting. It was the universal, unspoken pact of two apex predators recognizing an equal
Around the edge of the crater, the squad battle had also ground to a brutal halt.
Maya was sitting on her heavy shield, completely out of breath, her Iron-Plate Basilisk asleep on her lap. Across from her, the massive Second-Year Striker she had been holding off was leaning heavily on his halberd, too exhausted to lift it.
Robert was lying on his back, his Void-snake practically comatose after eating too much elemental magic. The enemy Mages were entirely drained, their robes singed by Yan's alchemical traps, which were now completely empty.
It was a total, undeniable stalemate.
Vice-Dean Kael stepped up to the edge of the Faculty Balcony. He didn't look angry. In fact, for the first time since Kai had arrived at the Academy, Kael looked profoundly satisfied.
"Medical servitors, secure the initiates," Kael's voice boomed across the Colosseum.
He looked at the rune-board, which was struggling to calculate a winner based on the simultaneous collapse. Kael waved his hand, magically wiping the board clean.
"The Vanguard Selection Tournament is concluded!" Kael announced. "The verdict is a Draw."
A shocked gasp rippled through the stands, quickly followed by a deafening roar of applause from the First-Year commoners.
"Squad 7 has proven the absolute validity of the Beast Taming Contract," Kael declared, his voice carrying the weight of Imperial law. "In just fourteen days, a squad of First-Years successfully closed a one-year Cultivation gap to tie with the veteran elites of the Second-Year Vanguard. The Incubation Loop is a success."
Kael looked directly down at the crater where Kai and Zhao Long were slowly being helped to their feet by the medical golems.
"Rest and refine your cores, Initiates," Kael ordered, his tone shifting from an instructor to a military commander. "Because your true test is no longer in this arena. The Exarch-Kin scout ships have breached Sector 7. The Vanguard deploys in forty-eight hours."
Later that evening, the Academy infirmary was packed.
Kai sat on the edge of a pristine white medical bed. A senior healer had just finished applying a cooling, restorative paste to his bruised chest. Anvil was curled up on the pillow next to him, passively digesting the ambient healing Qi in the room.
The heavy iron door of the ward swung open.
Prince Zhao Long walked in. He was bandaged across his chest and wore a simple, loose-fitting cotton shirt instead of his royal silks. He wasn't flanked by his usual entourage of sycophants.
Zhao Long walked over to Kai's bed and tossed a small, heavy leather pouch onto Kai's lap. It clinked with the distinct sound of high-grade Vault chips.
"What's this?" Kai asked, picking up the pouch.
"Ten thousand credits," Zhao Long stated casually, leaning against the wall. "My cousin, Vane, is a weak-willed idiot who relies on his bird to fight for him. You did my family a favor by blasting him out of the ring. Consider that payment for the entertainment."
Kai weighed the pouch in his hand. Ten thousand credits was a fortune. It was enough to buy premium Tier-2 forging materials, high-grade arrays for Robert, and a mountain of medicinal herbs for Yan.
"I'll take the credits, Long," Kai said, dropping the title entirely.
Zhao Long smirked, completely unbothered by the lack of formality. "Use it to upgrade your gear, Hart. Because when we drop into Sector 7 on Tuesday, the aliens aren't going to stop punching just because we run out of Qi. We're fighting together on the front lines. Try to keep up."
The Prince turned and walked out of the ward, his battle-crazed energy barely contained by his injuries.
Kai looked down at the credits, then over at his newly forged, perfectly tested Sovereign's Edge resting against the nightstand. He had a Level 9 System, a Stage 2 physical vessel, the dormant bloodline of a Qilin, and now, the grudging respect and financial backing of the Imperial Heir.
The Colosseum was finished. The real harvest was about to begin.