Endless Ascension
Episode 6 – The Breath Between Wars
The sand still smokes from where Kharvos fell.
Molten silver streaks cool into jagged glass across the arena floor, glittering in the strange light of World-Zero.
I stand alone, chest heaving, my God-Tier throwing stars humming in my hands. They don't feel like weapons anymore. They feel like part of me — as if they've been in my blood since before the Fighting Gods forged me.
The crowd hasn't moved. The Watchers haven't spoken. The portal that brought Kharvos here is gone, leaving only a yawning silence.
⸻
System Update
The voice comes in cold and absolute.
[Level: 66]
[Condition: Critical Fatigue Detected]
[Warning: Consecutive high-tier engagements will reduce combat efficiency.]
[Suggestion: Rest cycle engaged. Arena gates locked for recovery period — 12 minutes.]
Twelve minutes.
In a place like this, that's the closest thing to mercy I'll ever get.
The Stands
The crowd starts moving again, but it's not the usual roar. They murmur, their voices sharp with speculation and fear.
Some point. Some whisper my name — or what they think my name is. Others glare, the look of people already imagining my corpse.
High above, the cloaked Watchers remain still. I can feel their focus like a blade pressed to my neck.
They didn't expect Kharvos to fall. And now they're thinking about what happens if I keep winning.
I know what happens.
They'll stop sending champions.
They'll send executioners.
⸻
Weapon Mastery
I drop to one knee, drawing a deep breath, and let the stars hover above my palms. The God-Tier form is alive — the shifting celestial metal gleams under the demonbone framework, runes pulsing as if in sync with my heart.
I flick my wrists.
Both stars split into spectral copies instantly — five each — spinning in wide arcs around me before fading back into my hands.
The System hums approval.
[Passive Skill Progress: 12% toward "Perfect Copy Control."]
I run drills — throw, split, recall, ignite — over and over, feeling how the stars respond. The return speed is faster now. The ignition delay is nearly gone. And the concussive shockwave upgrade from before blends seamlessly with the new spectral copies, making every hit devastating in a radius.
Good.
Because I have a feeling I'll need all of it soon.
The Watchers' Whisper
Movement in the shadows above. I catch faint words carried on some psychic current.
"If he reaches the Hundred Gates, the balance breaks."
"Then he cannot reach them."
"The next trials will break him — or break the rules."
They know I can hear them. They want me to.
⸻
The Small Fight
The arena gates rumble — ahead of schedule. The "12 minutes" is already over.
From the gate steps a figure barely taller than me — cloaked in desert rags, carrying no visible weapons.
The System tags him.
[Opponent: LVL 70 – Blade Monk of the Sandspire]
[Specialization: Martial weapon summoning, adaptive combat style.]
A test fight. They're probing to see if I'm still worn down.
Opening Moves
The monk bows slightly. The moment he straightens, a curved blade appears in each hand, forged from compressed light.
He moves fast — not god-tier fast, but fast enough to pressure me while my muscles still ache from Kharvos' strikes.
I block his first swing with one star, hurl the other — it splits into five copies mid-flight, three grazing him, two detonating near his feet. Sand and smoke fly.
He uses the cover to vanish.
⸻
Counter
I close my eyes for half a breath, letting my demon side focus on sound and movement.
There — behind me.
I whirl, fling both stars backward without looking. They split, copies flying in a wide circle, and the monk reappears just in time to take two full detonations to the chest.
His body crumples.
The Kill
I walk over slowly, retrieve the primary stars from where they lodged in the sand, and stand over him. His breathing is ragged. His eyes meet mine.
"You are not meant for this world."
"Neither are you."
I ignite the star against his throat. The blast ends him instantly.
⸻
System Reward
[Level Up] → 66 → 71] (+5 levels)
*[Skill Unlocked] → Sandstride: Gain enhanced movement speed and stability on loose terrain.]
The stars hum, faint heat radiating into my hands. Another step. Another kill.
⸻
The Realization
The Watchers wanted this fight short. They wanted to see if the last battle drained me enough to make me sloppy.
It didn't.
But it told me something.
They're afraid.
⸻
Looking Forward
The gates close again, the sand being swallowed back into the arena's mechanism. The Watchers vanish into their higher chambers, but I can feel them still watching from wherever they hide.
I stand in the center of the arena, spinning the God-Tier stars slowly.
I'm at Level 71 now.
I'm still breathing.
And I'm still climbing.
The next gate will open soon. And when it does, I'll be ready.
Because this isn't the end of a battle.
It's the breath before a war.