The arena still shook with the echoes of their last clash.
Smoke curled from the fractured marble, and the barrier runes above flickered weakly, as though even the ancient enchantments had struggled to contain the storm between them.
John stood with his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple.
His flames guttered, reduced now to a simmer, while his space-field pulsed erratically, unstable after such reckless use.
Across from him, Kael Veynar lowered his blade, the lightning sputtering as though reluctantly retreating into silence.
The crowd of Arcanis hushed.
For the first time in decades, their Duelmaster had not crushed an opponent swiftly. Some eyes burned with outrage—how dare an outsider withstand Kael's art?
Others leaned forward in rapt fascination, whispering about the flame-wielding stranger who had fallen from nowhere.
Kael's expression transformed, shedding the disdainful smirk of a man entertained by a lesser foe. His gaze was sharp, measuring, like a smith assessing a rare, uncut gem.
He raised his voice, amplified by the dome's runes.
"Enough."
The word cracked through the silence.
John blinked, lowering his fists slightly.
"That's it? You giving up already?"
A ripple of laughter—and then, dead silence as Kael lifted a hand, commanding the air itself to still.
"You fight like a raging tempest," Kael said, his tone calm, deliberate.
"Crude. Reckless. Yet…" He pointed his blade toward John, not in threat, but in acknowledgment.
"There is a power in you that should not exist here. Not in any outsider. Not in any man."
Whispers surged through the stands, names and theories were exchanged rapidly, akin to a bustling marketplace.
Kael turned to the audience, his blade stabbing into the marble with a resounding crack.
"By the Laws of Arcanis, he has proven his worth. This outsider shall not be erased. He will stand—" Kael's eyes flicked back to John, glinting with something unreadable. "—as one under my watch."
Gasps. Shouts.
Half the crowd erupted in fury, the other half in wild astonishment.
Never before had a Duelmaster claimed an outsider, not in centuries.
John frowned, feeling wary of Kael's intentions.
"So what—you're not killing me, but babysitting me instead?"
Kael allowed himself a thin smile.
"Think of it as a chain. A leash, until you learn how to walk in this realm without burning it to ash."
John bristled at the word, but before he could retort, a chime rang out.
The dome's barrier dissolved, runes dimming into nothingness.
Officials in shimmering robes stepped forward, their eyes flashing with both disapproval and reluctant acceptance.
The Conclave's law was clear: the Duelmaster's word bound them all.
+++
Later, beneath the vaulted chamber of Arcanis' council halls, John stood with his arms crossed, fire still faintly flickering across his skin like a restless heartbeat.
The chamber itself was alive—its walls etched with glyphs that pulsed softly, each beat syncing faintly with John's own core. John sensed the walls of the chamber pulsating, like gentle whispers caressing his thoughts.
Kael addressed the gathered council members.
"This man is no ordinary trespasser. His flame is… unnatural. It is not simply fire, nor is his distortion of space the crude grasp of a novice. The Conclave must see what I have seen."
One elder, her hair white as frost and eyes gleaming with runic light, leaned forward.
"Duelmaster, you would gamble our laws on this? On an anomaly?"
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Not a gamble. A recognition."
"You speak like I'm not standing right here." John interrupted, impatient.
The elder's eyes snapped toward him, her glare like piercing ice.
"You are fortunate the Duelmaster stays our judgment. Few outsiders who stumble into Arcanis leave with breath still in their lungs."
John smirked, his expression nonchalant as he shrugged.
"Guess I'm just lucky. Or maybe you need me more than you think."
The council murmured with a mix of outrage and intrigue, showcasing their divided opinions. Kael raised a hand, silencing them.
"Enough." Kael's gaze met John's, holding a weight of unspoken knowledge.
"Then let the rites decide."
+++
They led John into the Hall of Resonance, a chamber vast and circular, its ceiling lost in shadow.
At its center lay a pool of mirrored crystal, surface still as glass, yet humming faintly like a chord waiting to be struck.
Around the pool, concentric rings of runes glowed faintly, each one etched by generations of magi.
"This is where we test one's bond to the ley-lines. Every being in Arcanis resonates differently."
"But if you are what I suspect… the pool will reveal it." Kael explained
John frowned but strode forward.
The pool shimmered, pulling at him like a breath drawn in reverse. He knelt, touching the surface.
The world changed.
For a moment, he was no longer in the hall.
Fire and void spun around him, endless, endless, until the two began to merge—his flames burning through the darkness of space, space devouring the fire in return, a cycle infinite.
And beneath it all, a heartbeat. The same heartbeat he had heard in the ruins.
The runes around the pool flared violently.
Elders cried out, shielding their eyes as the light surged, brighter than it had in centuries.
Glyphs once long dormant awakened, entire circles igniting one by one.
Kael's eyes widened.
"Impossible…"
The pool's reflection distorted, revealing a towering figure shrouded in flames and stars, with eyes blazing like twin suns.
The voice that followed was not spoken aloud but thundered in every mind present.
"At last… the vessel returns."
The light snapped out. The chamber fell into silence.
John staggered back, gasping, his hands trembling as the final traces of energy ebbed from his being.
The elders were speechless, their gazes locked on him with something between fear and reverence.
Kael broke the silence, his tone grave.
"John Terrado… whoever you are, your presence here is no accident.
The Conclave may debate, yet the ley-lines themselves have unequivocally declared."
John, still catching his breath, forced a grin despite the storm in his chest.
"So, does this mean I'm part of this now?"
Silence met his attempt at humor.
And from the shadows of the chamber, unseen by all but the flicker of the runes, something stirred—an ancient presence awakened by his arrival.
A whisper coiled through the dark, emanating from an unseen presence.
"He has returned. The cycle begins again."