The world fractured into light.
One moment, Caelan stood with the trial's survivors, sweat cooling on his skin in the still air of the cavern. The next, a brightness swallowed his vision, sharp enough to feel like knives against his eyes. Weight disappeared, and the ground vanished.
Crash
His boots hit polished stone. The solid feeling jolted through him, and when his vision cleared, he caught his breath.
A vast arena spread around him, large enough for armies. The floor was paved with slate-gray tiles etched with glowing mana inscriptions, shimmering like veins of molten silver. Tiered seating spiraled upward around the dueling ground, empty for now but eerily expectant, as if the ghosts of a thousand spectators watched from unseen balconies.
Above, there was no sun or moon—only an endless twilight sky painted violet, with faint arcs of light slicing through it like comets. The system's voice whispered in the air, cold and mechanical:
[Final Phase: Duel Grounds Initiated. Remaining Candidates: 10]
[Format: One-on-One Elimination. Victory determined by incapacitation or surrender]
Caelan took a deep breath, steadying his heartbeat. Ten of them remained. Out of hundreds. He wasn't supposed to have made it this far—not the Caelan of the novel. Yet here he stood. His place among them felt fragile, like glass ready to shatter.
A shimmer moved across the arena floor. Ten platforms rose in a circle, each glowing softly. Names appeared in the air above them—candidates chosen to fight.
Caelan's eyes darted. Damon's name glowed like a beacon across the way. He stood at ease, shoulders squared, his expression calm as a flat blade. He didn't even glance at the others. Confidence radiated from him in waves.
Then there were the others.
Edric Ashblood, Duke's son, already smirking as his platform lifted him higher, crimson spear resting on his shoulder. His arrogance seemed to bleed into the ground.
Liora, the silver-haired girl who had surprised everyone with her mastery of wind, brushing hair from her eyes as she steadied her bow.
Kieran, the commoner boy—his knuckles white on the hilt of a worn sword, breathing slowly, as if he had spent years fighting for survival.
And others, nameless to most but not to Caelan, who had battled alongside them just days ago.
The first match began.
Edric Ashblood faced a stocky boy wielding twin axes. The match was over before it truly started. The Duke's son twirled his crimson spear with incredible speed, mana flaring with each strike. Within seconds, the boy lay sprawled on the tiles, coughing up blood.
Edric spun his weapon, grinning as if the outcome had never been in doubt. "Pathetic" His voice rang out, sharp and mocking.
Caelan narrowed his eyes 'Arrogant bastard. But efficient'
Next, Liora fought, with the wind curling around her like a lover's embrace. Each arrow she let loose curved through the air, slipping past defenses to strike where no shield could cover. Her opponent, an armored boy with a tower shield, lasted three minutes before a final arrow slid through the visor slit, ending the match.
She didn't smile at her victory. She simply lowered her bow and whispered something Caelan couldn't hear, as if speaking to herself.
Kieran's duel followed. The commoner boy appeared small and unimpressive, his sword plain, his stance raw. His opponent scoffed, a smirk already forming—until Kieran moved.
Each step was deliberate and efficient, forged from hardship rather than training. He didn't overpower his opponent; he dismantled him, blow by blow, feint by feint, until the boy collapsed in exhaustion, unable to lift his weapon.
Kieran panted, sweat streaming down his temples, but his eyes shone like steel catching firelight. For the first time, whispers spread among the survivors.
Caelan smirked. 'He's like me—fighting above what's expected. Rising when everyone thinks he should've stayed down'
Caelan watched each fight carefully, noting patterns, calculating distances, and anticipating movements. When his turn came, he stepped onto his platform, the slate cold beneath his boots. Across from him, a tall, scarred youth raised a spear with calloused hands, eyes gleaming with determination.
The system's voice cut through the silence.
[Begin]
The spear lunged first, blurring toward Caelan's chest. Instinct screamed 'move' but Enhanced Comprehension had already sketched the arc of the thrust, showing the fraction of overextension in the boy's elbow.
Caelan twisted aside, water flaring at his heels. His blade hummed as it sliced through the air, grazing the boy's arm. Blood sprayed.
The boy snarled, spinning his spear in a wide sweep. Caelan ducked, water wrapping like serpents around his wrists. He lashed them forward, a whip of pressure striking the boy's knee. The spear faltered, momentum broken.
"Damn you—!" the boy spat, stumbling back.
Caelan pushed forward, his blade angled low. His mind raced through possibilities faster than his body could breathe—strike high, feint low, pivot left, exploit the imbalance.
But the flood of data jabbed into his skull like knives. His vision blurred for a heartbeat, warm blood dripping from his nose.
'Not now'
He gritted his teeth, pushed through the pain, and lunged. His sword cracked against the spear shaft, forcing it wide. With his other hand, water burst upward, crashing into the boy's chest like a hammer.
The scarred youth flew back, crashing onto the tiles, gasping. His weapon clattered away.
The system chimed: [Victor: Caelan Crowndread]
No cheers came. The arena remained silent except for the ragged breaths of the fallen boy. Caelan staggered, pressing a hand to his temple. The blood from his nose dripped onto the slate floor, instantly absorbed into the glowing inscriptions.
He didn't celebrate. He couldn't. His head throbbed, every nerve aflame. But he had won.
Damon cut through his opponents like a scythe through grass. Each clash ended in seconds, his strength overpowering, his mana crushing. No wasted moves. No hesitation. He looked calm throughout, as if the rest of them were children fumbling with wooden toys.
By the time only two remained, Caelan stood opposite him.
The arena fell deathly still. Even the twilight sky above seemed to lean closer, waiting.
[Final Match: Caelan Crowndread vs Damon Veyra]
Mana surged in the air, thick enough to taste.
Damon's crimson gaze locked onto him, unflinching. No mockery, no disdain—just acknowledgment, as if Caelan had finally become visible.
Caelan tightened his grip on his blade. His head ached. His chest burned. But deep inside, a flicker of exhilaration sparked.
'So this is it. The final measure'
He raised his sword. Damon lowered into position.
The system whispered: [Begin]
✦ To be continued…