Yueyin's gaze lingered for only a second — but to Zeravon, it felt like the stars themselves had paused to watch.
He blinked.
And she looked away, as if nothing had happened.
> *"Did she see something?"*
> *"No… did she recognize something?"*
Before he could make sense of the strange pull, a scroll flew through the courtyard and unrolled mid-air.
Instructor Wei's voice boomed out:
> "Final rounds begin at dawn. Only sixteen disciples remain. Prepare yourselves."
The scroll listed names — and Zeravon's stood among them.
Chaoxi nearly choked on his spirit bean.
> "WHAT?! How are you in the final 16?! You… you lost both fights!"
Zeravon simply stood up.
> "Maybe losing was the qualification."
---
### **Elsewhere – Elder Lin's Chamber**
Instructor Wei stood beside him, expression grim.
> "You pushed him through."
Lin didn't deny it.
> "I needed him under surveillance. That boy… something around him bends logic."
Wei frowned.
> "He doesn't even use Qi properly. But he moves like a divine puppet — perfectly flowing with the world."
Lin opened an old scroll — not golden, not divine. But something even older.
A list of **erased names**.
Only one name remained partially visible:
> **"…ravon"**
Wei stepped back slightly.
> "He shouldn't exist anymore, should he?"
Lin whispered:
> "He shouldn't have existed at all."
---
### **Next Morning – Combat Grounds**
The air was colder. The sky, paler. And even the arena stones felt like they were bracing for something **unseen**.
Zeravon stood at the edge of the platform, facing a disciple named Qiu Fan — a Qi Pulse cultivator known for his elemental hammer strikes.
The match started.
Qiu Fan shouted, charging with ground-crushing weight.
Zeravon exhaled slowly.
One step.
That's all he took.
And the **entire impact of the hammer missed** by an inch.
Qiu Fan's eyes widened.
> "How—?!"
Zeravon didn't dodge like a fighter.
He *moved like water avoiding stone*.
He didn't strike. Didn't counter.
He just **let the world turn**, and stood in the perfect place every time.
---
### **Watching Disciples and Elders**
> "Is he using predictive footwork?"
> "No… that's not technique. That's… awareness."
Yueyin watched quietly.
Chaoxi was gripping his knees.
Instructor Wei muttered:
> "He's not winning by power. He's making them defeat themselves."
Elder Lin remained still.
Only his eyes gleamed faintly.
---
### **Ten Minutes Later – Result**
Qiu Fan collapsed from exhaustion.
Not one blow had touched Zeravon — but he hadn't landed a hit either.
Still…
> "Victory: Zeravon."
Disciples murmured.
Some with doubt.
Some with awe.
Some with fear.
Zeravon walked back.
His steps were as silent as before.
But inside, something stirred.
---
### **That Night – Beneath the Tree**
Zeravon finally closed his eyes.
For the first time since the dreams had ended…
He saw **something**.
Not a throne.
Not a golden sword.
But a **crimson chain**, wrapped tightly around a name he couldn't read.
He reached toward it.
> *"No… not yet."*
> *"You're not ready."*
The vision shattered.
He woke up with a sharp inhale.
A golden glow flickered under his skin — barely noticeable — then vanished.
---
### **Realm Between Fate and Dream**
The cracked scroll now showed a **third fissure**.
A voice whispered:
> *"If he wins again… the fourth crack forms."*
> *"After that, nothing can hold him."*
But an older voice responded:
> *"Then let him lose. Break him here — before he remembers Oblivis."*
---