The arena thundered with anticipation—stone seats rattling beneath the roar of thousands. High above banners crackled with elemental energy: fire for ember coil, frost for storm fang. Below, the pit waited—scorched, scarred, and eager for one last war dance. Torren stood across from me, shoulders squared, his storm-colored fur rippling with restrained power. Full moon qi flickered around him like early snow.
His beast crystal pulsed—nearly tier three now, as if it too hungered for this confrontation.
"I'm happy it's come to this," he said, voice low and calm despite the noise. "After all the nights we spent training and rationing marrow jerky."
I chuckled, cracking my knuckles. My Storm-Grip Talon Bands hummed as my qi flowed into them, stabilizing the raw surge building beneath my ember coil scales, "I'd thought we'd die in some ruin," I said. "Not clash in the middle of our clan."
Torren grinned. "Who knows we still might." We bowed.
Across the coliseum, Elder Vash's voice rang out like a falling hammer: "Final Match: Ash Cross of the ember coil Line vs. Torren Inquest of the storm fang Line. This is no longer about survival—this is legacy."
He struck the gong. The crowd exploded. So did we.
I dashed left, kicking into my mobility technique, wind whistling past as my sacred breath technique kept my inner qi flow smooth and strong. Torren mirrored me with storm fang speed, the two of us circling like twin storms. We clashed center-pit.
My hidden dragon palm ignited—a wind-charged blast laced with crackling fire—aimed at his midsection. Torren met it with a storm claw barrage, claws flashing with icy chi, the impact sending up a shockwave of steam and dust. We broke apart, skidding backward in mirrored lunges. His chest smoked from the palm strike. My arm burned cold where his claws had kissed.
"Not bad," I muttered. Torren rolled his shoulder. "Round two?" My lightning qi twisted like a living thing—sharp, reactive, hard to read.
He was faster than I remembered. Stronger, too. Must have been the vital enhancer, maybe it was that damned sacred breath refinement—but every strike from him felt clean. Intentional. No wasted motion. Torren leapt back to create space, fur bristling with frost, his reactive qi straps primed to retaliate.
"Think, wolf. Fire flows forward—force meets force" But lightning? It waits. It punishes mistakes'' I could see Torren coaching himself mentally.
I darted in again—left feint, aerial dash, then blazing tempest strike. Death from above.
My vortex ignited with fire and wind, its heat washing over Torren as he dropped low and countered with a reverse Storm claw slashing across my flank!
His claws connected—barely—but my lightning lashed back, dancing across his arm and numbing it to the elbow. We broke. Both panting now.
I grinned. "You hesitated." He bared his teeth. "I learned." The crowd surged to its feet—no tricks, no items, just raw martial flow. I launched a hidden dragon palm mid-air, redirecting into a backward roll as he kicked off the wall of the arena itself, twisting like lightning in a bottle.
I met him in the air, my claws and his fists blurring—fire against ice, lightening against full moon qi. The Storm-Grip Talon Bands let me deflect mid-air, and I flipped behind him, striking low.
Torrens reactive qi straps exploded in frost again, catching me, but I barely flinched. We both stumbled. My breath steamed in his frost aura. His fur was singed.
Above, the crowd was split and feral—chanting both names now. "Ash! Torren! Ash! Torren!" We circled, slower. Every step was watched. Every twitch could be fatal.
I blinked behind him and launched a strike, a lightning-laced hidden dragon palm to the back.
Pain bloomed through Torren, he twisted, slashing wildly, but I dodged again—second strike, uppercut with a wind-sheathed palm blast that knocked Torren off balance.
"Second place Torren" I laughed, fist crackling. He headbutted me.
' 'CRACK' '
I stumbled, dazed, losing the timing of the last strike. Torren lunged in with a storm claw barrage straight to my scaled ribs. The crowd screamed.
I grunted, skidding back, chilled but still standing. Elder Vash stood now, robes whipping in the wind. His voice cracked like thunder: "Honor your bloodlines. Show the continent what it means to rise."
The crowd quieted—holding its breath. The whole Beast Vein seemed to shiver. I and Torren nodded once. Then we moved.
I launched with a double-jump aerial feint, my qi flaring into a spiraling tempest strike. Torren met me in the air with a tier three Storm claw barrage, rotating mid-spin, our final blows colliding center-pit.
' 'BOOM.' '
The ground cracked. Lightning laced with frost exploded outward. Fire scorched wind. Dust and qi ripped skyward. When it cleared—I stood upright.
Torren knelt.
Blood dripped from his mouth. Frost bit my limbs. But I smiled.
"Guess… you're tougher than you look," Torren rasped.
I reached down and pulled my clan mate and friend up.
Elder Vash raised both arms, "Victory to Ash Cross of the ember coil line!"
The coliseum erupted.
Fireworks of qi sigils burst above, thunder and flame dancing in the sky. Children waved ember-kites. Qi flares lit up the sky.
Torren's hand gripped my wrist and raised it, slowly with effort.
"Champion or not," he said, smirking, "you're still sharing your winnings." I just laughed, the weight of the fight—of everything—finally lifting. The cheers still echoed, but my focus narrowed.
Elder Vash stood atop the obsidian platform, staff in hand, his golden eyes scanning the crowd—and settling on me.
"Ashriel Cross of the ember coil Line," he declared, his voice resonating across the coliseum like thunder wrapped in silk.
"Step forward." I did so, the battlefield still etched in the soles of my feet.
A servant approached with a lacquered case and several other cultivation items. The Lacquered case was rune-sealed and humming with quiet power.
The crowd murmured.
"This," Vash said, opening the case "is a ' 'Power Meter' '—granted only to those who stand among the Continent's top percentiles. With it you will be able to monitor your cultivation progress. You will be able to view your greatest strengths and areas where you lack development.
Torren let out a low whistle behind me.
Vash held it out. I received it and the bag of several rare cultivation, fruits and roots with a few potions and ethers mixed in for good measure.
Vash smiled thinly. "You have not yet reached the peak of your walk—but the spiral climbs higher."
I stepped back, Torren catching my glance. "Damn I'd kill for one of those meters"
"You might have to," I muttered.
Vash raised his staff again.
"Let the continent witness: Ashriel Cross of the ember coil spirit is our Champion! He will represent us at the 1000 clan gathering. Let this record be carved into the archives of the Iron Fang Clan."
A flare of qi branded fire from Elder Vash wrote my name in the arena stone.