Chapter 14: Voices in my head.
The grand ceremony ground of Daveron pulsed with barely contained violence.
Thousands of demon superhumans filled the vast circular plaza, stone tiered like an ancient coliseum, black marble veined with crimson dream-runes that glowed faintly under the pale northern sun. Floating obsidian tablets drifted through the crowd like silent omens, each one seeking its chosen participant. The air thrummed with clashing auras: violet flame, black blade intent, molten crimson aura, and the low, predatory growl of spirit beasts waiting at the edges.
I felt one of the tablets brush past my shoulder, cool, heavy, humming with latent power.
My hand snapped out on instinct. Fingers closed around smooth stone. It settled into my palm, but the surface remained blank to my ruined sight, no runes, no words, only weight.
I turned toward the nearest stable life energy, soft, feminine, tinged with curiosity.
"Excuse me," I said, tapping her shoulder lightly and offering a charming, disarming smile. "Could you please help me read what's written on this tablet?"
A sharp intake of breath. Her aura flickered with surprise.
"He's blind…" she thought, shock rippling outward.
"No problem at all," she answered after a heartbeat, voice gentle despite herself. She took the tablet from my hand. "From what I can see here… your contestant number is 105."
She placed it back into my palm.
"Thank you," I said quietly, bowing my head once before turning away. I ignored the lingering weight of her curious gaze and spread my senses wider, mapping the sea of heartbeats, footsteps, and killing intent that surrounded me.
"Liam."
A voice struck my mind like a blade forged from absolute darkness, deep, ancient, devoid of any trace of warmth or mercy.
My breath caught. The timbre was familiar… yet colder than anything I had endured in Helga's pit.
"This voice… it sounds familiar," I thought.
Before I could place it, the world vanished.
My presence was torn away, swallowed into an endless void. No ground beneath my feet. No air to breathe. Only crushing pressure against my soul, like the weight of an entire mountain range bearing down at once.
"I believe this is the first time I have communicated with you directly."
The words echoed from every direction, heartless and absolute.
My heart hammered against my ribs. My body instinctively recognized the presence of overwhelming power, something far beyond Silver rank, beyond Platinum, perhaps even beyond anything I had yet faced.
"Lord Aron Deveron…" I whispered.
The moment the name left my lips, my consciousness compressed. My mind teetered on the edge of oblivion; pain lanced through my brain like white-hot needles threading every nerve. Memories flickered and died at the edges, forgetfulness threatening to erase me entirely.
"I expect nothing less than the top position in this tournament," the voice continued, calm as death watching from above. I could feel his gaze piercing straight through my core, weighing every fragment of my being. "Failure to show them why the people of the Dream should be looked up to will result in your death."
The final sentence landed like an executioner's axe.
Before I could respond, my mind was hurled back into reality with brutal force.
I staggered sideways, cane scraping stone as I caught myself against a pillar. My head throbbed violently. Blood trickled from my nose and the corner of my mouth. The girl who had helped me earlier gasped in shock.
"If he's so weak… why contest at all?" she wondered aloud, pity threading her aura. "Does he plan to lose his life here?"
I slowly straightened.
My body released a dangerous, violet-black killing intent, raw, unrestrained, cold as the deepest abyss. The surrounding superhumans shivered as the temperature around me plummeted several degrees.
"Who the fuck do you think you are," I growled, voice low and venomous, "to determine my death?"
The words hung in the air like a drawn blade.
Unknown to me, high above on the floating seats reserved for the House of Dreamers, a figure leaned forward with manic delight.
Caleb watched my every movement, wild grin splitting his face, eyes gleaming with pure, unhinged excitement.
"What will you show me today, blind devil?" he murmured, voice dripping with joyful madness.
The obsessive stare drew another's attention.
Helga slowly turned her head. Her long dark hair flared upward like living shadows as rage ignited behind her eyes.
"Caleb," she said, voice dangerously sweet, "if you know what is good for you, take your eyes off him."
Caleb burst into laughter, loud, unrestrained, echoing across the high seats.
"Hahahaha! Helga, your words mean nothing to me. You don't understand the value of what you hold in your grasp."
Helga's hand flashed to her blade. Steel sang as she unsheathed it in one fluid motion.
"And what exactly do I hold in my grasp, you crazed fool?"
Caleb's grin widened, mocking, predatory.
"ohh I'm scared, Calm down, big sis. It's not like I'm going to snatch him from you… not like I couldn't if I truly wanted to."
Helga moved, blade cutting a lethal arc toward his throat.
Before the strike could land, an elderly figure materialized between them, intercepting the blow with two fingers. The clash rang like struck iron across the sky.
"Foolish child," Elder Akim spoke gently, voice carrying the weight of centuries, "why do you allow this one to prick at your bones?"
His presence commanded instant respect, calm, unshakeable, diamond-rank aura flowing like still water as a dome slowly materialized around them.
"Do not interrupt the ceremony," he added, turning his gaze toward Caleb.
A single pulse of diamond-rank strength washed outward, silent to the crowd below, yet Caleb felt every ounce. Blood vessels bulged in his neck. Muscles tensed to the point of cracking.
"Elder Akim…" Caleb growled, voice strained. "Why do you always support that bitch?"
Rage boiled in his chest. He gathered energy inward, compressing it violently toward his heart in a forbidden technique.
"Gathering aura to one point is a dangerous move," Helga whispered in shock. "Mostly used when superhumans wish to self-detonate…"
But then she witnessed something impossible.
Caleb smiled.
Two gentle, controlled waves of pulse energy rippled outward from his body,.subtle, precise, breaking the suppression without explosion.
Helga and Elder Akim froze in genuine astonishment.
"He just used Liam's technique…" Helga breathed.
Caleb's grin turned predatory.
"Oh yes… that blind devil. His techniques are truly flawless. They should be considered Gold-grade at the very least."
Helga's eyes widened in disbelief.
*author's note would later clarify:
Pulse Technique,.one of the main character's signature arts. Gather energy to a single point, allowing it to flow violently within the chest, then release it not as a destructive burst, but as a gentle yet heavy push that destabilizes both mental state and movement for several critical seconds.*
"Caleb… what battle technique is this?" Elder Akim asked, genuine surprise coloring his ancient voice.
Caleb did not answer.
Instead he stared down at Helga, all wildness gone. His demeanor turned ice-cold, unnatural, terrifying.
"How long do you think your elders will keep saving you from my wrath?" he said softly. "A day will come when I dance through the streets of Daveron with your head on a pike."
A devil spirit materialized behind him, ugly, tribal, oni-like, legs levitating as it seized Helga by the throat with one clawed hand.
"Let me out ," A whisper came directly into her ear.
"The only thing you will be dancing in is madness."
Helga's own veil demon flared into existence, staring the intruder down with equal malice.
"Enough with your useless banter," Elder Akim voice cut through the tension like a blade. He stepped forward, shattering the invisible dome he had raised around them with a casual wave. "The days of the Paragon fast approach, but it's not yet at hand" he said calmly his face showing no emotion .
In an instant, both Helga and Caleb found themselves seated once more, forced back into their places as though nothing had happened.
Yet their eyes remained locked on the same figure below.
Helga, filled with worry and fierce possessiveness.
Caleb, burning with manic excitement.
Both watching me.