The roar of the crowd felt distant, muffled, like echoes under water.
Asori was on his knees, gasping, his chest burning from the lariat that had nearly split him in two. Every breath was torture, every attempt to rise crushed beneath the weight of Sir Kael's presence.
The knight in dark armor advanced slowly, deliberately, like a hunter with no fear of its prey. The audience screamed, some cheering for Asori, others marveling at Kael's brutality.
From the stands, Blair dug her nails into her palms. Fear suffocated her, her memories of the previous night blurring into the present image: Kael, relentless, closing in on the boy she cherished most.
Kael paused at the center of the platform. His crimson gaze flicked upward, almost unconsciously, seeking one face in the reserved seats: Darian, Zeknier's nephew, lounging smugly in his chair with a mocking smile. That look was a needle, pulling mercilessly at the tangled thread of Kael's memory.
The scene dissolved into a frozen memory. He remembered how the mountain had spat him out that day: snow biting into his skin, air so thin each breath stabbed his lungs. He had been hurled into the abyss, defeated by a brat whose strength he had failed to grasp. His body broken, bones shattered, pride torn to ribbons in the cold. He thought he would die swallowed by white silence.
Weeks later, when death was his only companion, the shadow came to collect him.
The figure had no clear form, like the night itself condensed into a man. Its voice didn't come from lips but from within the marrow of his bones: deep, slow, endless, like an echo without end.
—Look at you… —the shadow said— Lost in the snow, beaten by a child.
Kael, barely conscious, felt rage burn through him like fever.
—That brat… had something. An orb. It glowed. He used the wind… —he stammered, his memories jagged, brittle as broken ice.
The silhouette leaned in, its outline sharp against the moonlight like a scythe. Silence pressed down on him, heavy as breath on his chest. Then, with venomous calm, the shadow spoke again:
—A bearer.
It was like someone had poured coal into his blood. Kael's eyes lit with desperate fire.
—He humiliated me! Left me to die! —he roared— I want power. I want to crush him.
The shadow did not move, but its presence was law made weight. Its voice sank lower, more intimate, branding his ear:
—Are you willing to lose everything?
It was a question that allowed no hesitation. Kael clung to the last spark of warmth in him and answered without thought:
—Yes. Whatever it takes.
The figure seemed to smile, and that smile sounded like ice cracking at dawn.
—Good, —it murmured— The girl you were following was the princess. Blair.
The name fell like a lash. Kael's heart froze in cursed silence.
—The princess?
The shadow coiled around him like a suffocating mist, its voice dripping with greed and broken promises.
—An uncut jewel. Believed dead. Can you imagine her worth? Take her. Break her. Shatter her. Let her pain echo your humiliation. Let her name moan when you speak mine.
It wasn't an offer. It was a chain. In its tone there was no comfort, only fate. Kael clenched his jaw until his teeth creaked, his eyes wild, fevered.
—I'll make her suffer, —he whispered— Let her writhe as I did.
The shadow surged over him like a black tide, whispering crowns of bone into his ear:
—Enter the tournament. My nephew will move the pieces. Make them face the last thing they expect. You will be the instrument of my game. Remember: the board tilts to the one who sets the rules. Obey… or we come for you first.
It was no mere threat. It was a sentence. The shadow needed no teeth—its power lay in the certainty of breaking anyone who defied its plan.
Kael nodded mechanically. In that moment, something in his chest shattered and was reforged: reborn at the edge of hatred, purchased with a promise that reeked of sulfur. He was no longer the man who had fallen. He was his rage made flesh, a puppet bound to the master of darkness.
And in the stands, Darian's smirk widened, unaware of the invisible chains he had just sealed.
Back in the arena, Kael grinned beneath his helm. His steps thundered like hammer strikes.
Asori forced himself to stand. Sweat streamed down his brow. Fear still gripped him, but something else stirred: Blair's voice echoing in his mind, her warmth, her promises.
I can't give up.
He lunged, hurling a punch charged with Astral. Air whistled around his arm. But Kael brushed it aside with his forearm, as if batting away a child's blow.
The counterattack was brutal: a knee smashed into his gut, lifting Asori off the ground. Pain ripped a scream from him. He barely raised his arms before the next strike slammed into his back, flattening him against the platform.
—Is that all? —Kael's voice roared, warped through the helm— This is the boy who humiliated me?!
Asori spat blood, but his legs refused to buckle. With a growl, he slammed an Aetherion into the ground. The burst of Astral kicked up a storm of dust, forcing Kael to stagger back a step.
From the stands, Blair leaned forward.
—Asori…!
The boy gasped, arms trembling, but his body began to sync. Fear still lurked, but now it hardened his muscles, sharpened his steps. Every movement defied collapse.
—You… won't break me…
Kael snapped his fingers. Shadows bled from his armor, coalescing into a long, jagged sword dripping with a familiar aura.
Asori's eyes widened. His heart lurched. He knew that blade—it was the same that had nearly pierced him in the forest, the same that had almost killed him the night he first met Blair.
His knees buckled. He collapsed, breath ragged.
—Yes… you remember. —Kael raised the sword with cruel slowness— That night you survived by sheer luck. But today… —his eyes blazed like burning coals— today I will kill you.
Terror froze Asori. His hands shook, his chest heaved out of control. The past had returned to devour him, trapping him once more before the executioner of his childhood.
The crowd roared, oblivious to the private hell inside the young bearer. Blair, tears streaming, rose from her seat, unable to breathe through the anguish.
The sword descended slowly. And Asori was still on his knees.
The real battle had only just begun.