The arena of the Grand Bout was a coliseum built for gods and monsters.
It sprawled across the heart of Crimson Reach like a living heart of stone and mana — vast beyond measure, its circular fighting pit wide enough to swallow entire districts. The ground was reinforced with layered mana-stone that glowed faintly under the red sky, capable of withstanding blows that could level mountains. Towering barriers of shimmering energy surrounded the pit, thick enough to contain even Destroyer-level destruction while allowing the crowd to feel every shockwave.
Hundreds of thousands filled the stands, a roaring sea of humanity, beastmen, elves, and more. Banners of the three southern cities fluttered proudly — crimson phoenix for Crimson Reach, emerald forge for Emberhold, and iron storm for Stormcrag. The air vibrated with raw excitement, chants, and the smell of sweat, roasted meat, and anticipation.
Then the announcer stepped onto the central platform.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a voice that could shake the heavens — clad in ornate red-and-gold robes, a mana-amplifying crystal hovering at his throat.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… WARRIORS AND SPECTATORS OF THE SOUTH… WELCOME TO THE GRAND BOUT!"
The crowd erupted like thunder.
He raised his arms, letting the roar wash over him before continuing, voice booming with theatrical power.
"Today is not merely a tournament! Today is a battle of strength and ideology! Warriors from Crimson Reach, Emberhold, and Stormcrag will clash with pride! Even fighters from distant regions have answered the call! This is where legends are born… and where the weak are forgotten!"
The stands shook with chants: "Grand Bout! Grand Bout!"
He gestured dramatically toward the VIP box high above.
"And now… the rulers who make this possible! The three pillars of the south!"
The crowd hushed slightly in awe.
"First — the elegant flame that guides Crimson Reach! The ruler whose beauty burns brighter than any phoenix! Lady Phoenix!"
Lady Phoenix rose gracefully in the VIP box, her orange-and-black hair flowing like living fire, amber eyes scanning the arena with regal poise. The crowd cheered wildly, many whispering how she looked even more stunning in person.
"Next — the unbreakable forge of Emberhold! The lord whose will shapes steel and destiny itself! Lord Kael Voss!"
Lord Kael stood tall, bronze skin and silver-streaked beard gleaming, raising a fist in acknowledgment. His hazel eyes burned with quiet intensity. Cheers rose for the respected trade-lord.
"And finally — the iron storm of Stormcrag! The unbreakable warrior-king whose blade has carved fear into the hearts of invaders! Lord Thorne Varkis!"
Thorne rose like a mountain, scarred face and steel-blue eyes cold as winter steel. He gave a single, powerful nod. The warrior-class spectators roared the loudest for him.
The announcer's voice rose to a fever pitch.
"Warriors! Fighters! The rules are simple yet merciless! The bout continues until your opponent is unconscious… or no longer willing to fight! Death… is no exception! The barriers will protect you, the spectators — but inside this arena, only strength matters!"
The crowd exploded into a frenzy of cheers, chants, and gossip.
"Do you think the Void Reaper is fighting?!"
"Yeah, and that new red-haired guy who cleared five dungeons in one night — I hear people are calling him a monster already!"
"I bet Lord Thorne's champion from Stormcrag sweeps the early rounds."
"No way — Lady Phoenix's fighters always have tricks up their sleeves."
In the stands, reactions rippled.
Indura sat in the participant waiting area with Shadow beside him, arms crossed, a relaxed smile on his face. His golden eyes sparkled with genuine excitement.
"This is going to be fun," he said softly. "All these strong people throwing everything they have… I want to feel that weight." And maybe crush a few...
Shadow smiled faintly, calm as ever. "Try not to break the arena too early."
Not far away, Jin sat with Hanz, his silver eyes hidden behind his mask. Hanz was already shouting at the top of his lungs, pumping his fists.
"THIS IS IT! THE GRAND BOUT! I'm telling you, Jin — we're gonna see some crazy shit today! You better not hold back if you fight!"
Jin sighed, clearly annoyed. "Stop shouting. You're embarrassing." I won't risk my life fighting today. I still have to investigate that gate... I can't get it off my mind.
Hanz laughed louder. "Embarrassing? This is the best day of the year! Look at that crowd! Feel that energy!"
In another section, TaiKhan and his gang of street kids had somehow sneaked into decent seats. TaiKhan was on his feet, screaming with pure childish hype, short black hair messy, faint red eyes wide with excitement.
"LET'S GOOOO! Smash them! I wanna see someone get launched into the barrier!"
His boys joined in, jumping and cheering wildly. "Shadow Rats forever!"
High in the stands, a mysterious figure sat quietly — fully armored, face hidden behind a visor, but long white hair spilling from beneath the helmet. She watched the arena with intense focus, saying nothing.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, yet beneath it, the waiting area for fighters felt like a tomb.
Fighters from all three southern cities stood or sat in tense clusters. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, oil, and fear.
A young Slayer from Emberhold, barely twenty, doubled over suddenly and vomited violently onto the sand. His hands shook as he wiped his mouth, eyes wide with terror.
"I… I can't do this," he whispered to no one. "They say people die here every time…"
Nearby, an older warrior from Stormcrag knelt on one knee, hands clasped tightly, muttering prayers under his breath. His voice trembled.
"Gods of iron and storm… grant me strength… or at least a quick death…"
In the stands, the atmosphere was electric but laced with morbid excitement. Spectators leaned forward, whispering among themselves.
"Did you hear? Five years ago, three fighters died in the opening rounds. One got his spine snapped by a Knight's casual punch."
"Yeah… they say the barriers sometimes fail to contain the really strong ones. Blood everywhere. The crowd loves it though."
A group of crippled veterans — men and women missing limbs or bearing deep scars from previous Bouts — sat in a reserved section. One of them, an old knight with only one arm, stared at the arena with hollow eyes.
"Fools," he muttered. "They think it's glory. It's just meat for the arena."
The announcer continued, voice dripping with dark enthusiasm — perhaps too cheerful.
"LOOK AT THEM, FOLKS! The brave warriors of the south — and a few foolish outsiders — standing on the edge of destiny! Some of you will walk out as legends… and some of you…"
He paused, licking his lips with obvious relish.
"…will leave this arena in pieces! Yes, death is no exception here! The Grand Bout doesn't care about mercy! It only cares about who's left standing — or who paints the sand red!"
The crowd roared with a mix of bloodlust and excitement.
The announcer's grin widened, almost manic.
"I love this part! The fear in their eyes! The prayers! The vomit! It makes every match so much sweeter when the strong crush the weak! Let's see who breaks first!"
In the waiting area, more fighters shifted uncomfortably. One young woman from a minor house clutched her spear so tightly her knuckles turned white, whispering, "I just wanted recognition… not this…"
Another fighter, a burly man from Stormcrag, laughed nervously. "At least if I die, it'll be quick… right?"
The roar of the crowd was a living storm.
"AND NOW… THE RULER OF CRIMSON REACH… THE FLAME THAT GUIDES THE SOUTH… THE ONE WHOSE BEAUTY BURNS BRIGHTER THAN ANY PHOENIX… LADY PHOENIX!"
The entire coliseum erupted once again.
Lady Phoenix rose slowly from the VIP box high above the arena. The moment she stood, a wave of her presence rolled outward — calm yet razor-sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk and fire. The crowd's cheers didn't die; they were silenced, not by force, but by the sheer weight of her aura. Thousands of voices faded into a breathless hush as every eye turned toward her.
She stepped forward to the edge of the box, orange-and-black hair flowing behind her like living embers. Her amber eyes scanned the sea of faces below with graceful authority.
Her voice carried across the arena, smooth, warm, and commanding all at once.
"Warriors… spectators… people of the south. Today is not merely a day of violence. Today is a celebration of strength, of will, and of the fire that burns within every soul who dares to step into this arena. Fight with honor. Fight with pride. But above all… fight as if the eyes of the world are upon you. Because they are."
She paused, letting the words settle like embers on dry grass.
"May the strongest rise. May the weak find their limit. And may the south show the rest of Chaos why we still stand unbroken."
A wave of cheers began to build again, but she raised one elegant hand, and the sound died instantly.
She smiled — beautiful, regal, and just a touch dangerous.
"Let the Grand Bout… begin."
As she sat back down, her thoughts remained hidden behind that perfect mask.
Everything is in place. Security is tripled. The barriers are at full strength. The other rulers are watching. Dark Haven… if you dare show your face here, we will be ready.
She gave the announcer a subtle nod.
The man stepped forward again, his grin widening with theatrical glee.
"YOU HEARD THE LADY! THE GRAND BOUT IS OFFICIALLY UNDERWAY!"
The crowd exploded once more.
High in the participant waiting area, Indura sat with Shadow beside him, arms loosely crossed, golden eyes half-lidded in relaxed interest.
He watched Lady Phoenix's speech with a small, thoughtful smile.
"Her aura is calm… yet sharp," he murmured. "Like a blade that doesn't need to be drawn to cut. She speaks like someone who's used to the world listening."
Shadow nodded quietly, his voice low. "She rules Crimson Reach for a reason. Her presence alone keeps the south stable."
Indura leaned back slightly, still watching the arena below as the first fighters were called.
"Interesting," he said softly. "She feels like someone who has seen a lot… and decided to keep smiling anyway."
He closed his eyes for a moment, the faint memory of the white dragon and the vision still lingering in the back of his mind.
This world keeps getting more complicated, he thought. But at least the fights should be entertaining.
TaiKhan and his gang sat crammed together on the stone benches, munching on roasted meat skewers and cheap fermented drinks they'd "acquired" earlier. The air smelled of sweat, grilled food, and excitement.
Miko was still gushing, waving his skewer like a conductor's baton.
"Did you hear Lady Phoenix's voice? So smooth… so powerful! One day I'm gonna stand in that arena and make her notice me!"
Renn snorted, nearly choking on his drink. "You? Stick to stealing apples, lover boy."
The boys exploded into laughter, shoving Miko around playfully.
TaiKhan grinned, tearing into his meat. "You idiots. When I make it big, I'll buy the whole arena and let you all watch from the front row."
The announcer stood at the center of the massive arena, arms raised high, his voice booming through the mana-amplified crystals like thunder rolling across the coliseum.
"THE GRAND BOUT BEGINS! FOR THE FIRST MATCH OF THE DAY… FROM CRIMSON REACH… A PROUD SLAYER WHO HAS CLEARED TWELVE HIGH-GRADE DUNGEONS AND LIVES TO TELL THE TALE… KAIRO VELDRIS!"
The crowd erupted as the gates on one side opened.
Kairo Veldris stepped into the arena with confident strides. He was a tall, well-built human in his late twenties, wearing lightweight crimson-and-gold armor that gleamed under the red sky. His short dark hair was slicked back, and a long scar ran down his left cheek — a souvenir from a past battle. He raised one fist to the crowd, a cocky grin on his face, basking in the cheers from the Crimson Reach section.
"FOR CRIMSON REACH!" he shouted, voice full of pride.
The stands belonging to Crimson Reach roared in support, banners waving wildly.
"Show them what real southern strength looks like!"
"Make it quick, Kairo!"
From the other sections, however, came jeers and opposite opinions.
"Emberhold's fighters would crush him in seconds!"
"Stormcrag's warriors eat guys like him for breakfast!"
The announcer let the noise build for a moment, then raised his arms again with dramatic flair.
"AND HIS OPPONENT… FROM STORMCRAG… A RELENTLESS SLAYER KNOWN FOR BREAKING ENEMIES WITH NOTHING BUT RAW POWER AND IRON WILL… GAROK THANE!"
The opposite gate slammed open with a heavy thud.
Garok Thane emerged like a moving fortress. He was a broad, heavily muscled human, his skin marked with old battle scars, wearing heavy midnight-blue plate armor reinforced with silver runes. A massive two-handed axe rested on his shoulder, and his cold gray eyes scanned the arena with predatory focus. He didn't shout or pose. He simply walked to the center, radiating a quiet, intimidating presence.
The Stormcrag section exploded in cheers.
"Garok! Crush him!"
"Show the pretty boys from Crimson Reach what real warriors look like!"
Crimson Reach fans immediately fired back.
"Your brute will get outsped and humiliated!"
"Kairo's too fast for that slow lump of iron!"
The two fighters faced each other in the center of the red sand.
Kairo smirked, spinning his lighter blade with practiced ease. "Hope you're ready to go home in pieces, Stormcrag dog."
Garok's expression didn't change. He hefted his axe, voice low and gravelly. "Talk less. Fight more."
The announcer's voice cut through the rising tension, laced with dark excitement.
"Two Slayers. Two cities. One arena. No mercy. No surrender. The first blood of the Grand Bout… BEGINS NOW!"
The bell rang like a death knell.
Kairo exploded forward with blinding speed, his lighter blade flashing in a storm of precise strikes aimed at Garok's joints and gaps in the heavy armor. I'll make this quick, gotta impress the ladies.
Garok met him, swinging his massive two-handed axe in wide, crushing arcs. Each swing carried enough force to split boulders, forcing Kairo to twist and weave desperately to avoid being bisected.
The crowd was split in chaos.
"Crimson Reach! Speed kills!"
"Stormcrag! Crush the pretty boy!"
Kairo landed the first clean hit — a lightning-fast slash across Garok's thigh that drew a line of blood. The Stormcrag section booed loudly while Crimson Reach cheered.
"First blood to us!"
Garok didn't flinch. He roared and countered with a brutal overhead smash.
Kairo barely dodged, the axe cratering the arena floor where he had stood a split second earlier.
He danced around Garok, using his superior speed to land stinging cuts and slashes, chipping away at the bigger man's defense. Garok endured the hits, his heavy armor absorbing most of the damage, and answered with devastating power strikes that forced Kairo to stay constantly on the move.
"Stand still and die!" Garok bellowed, swinging his axe in a horizontal arc that created a visible shockwave.
Kairo leaped over it, landing a spinning kick to Garok's jaw that snapped the bigger man's head back.
The Crimson Reach fans went wild.
But Garok only grinned through bloody teeth.
He dropped his axe suddenly and charged bare-handed, grabbing Kairo by the waist in a crushing bear hug. The sound of armor creaking and bones protesting filled the arena as he squeezed with terrifying strength.
Kairo gasped in pain, face turning red. What the hell is this guy made of?!
"Break him, Garok!"
"Stormcrag strength!"
Kairo headbutted Garok hard, breaking free and staggering back, breathing heavily. Blood trickled from his nose.
He blurred forward like a crimson streak, his lighter blade flashing in a relentless storm of slashes. He targeted joints and gaps in Garok's heavy armor, each strike precise and vicious.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three quick cuts opened shallow gashes across Garok's thigh and side. Blood sprayed. The Crimson Reach section exploded in cheers.
"YES! Tear him apart, Kairo! We really are going to win this!"
Garok tanked the hits without flinching. His eyes burned with fury as he swung his massive axe in a wide, crushing horizontal arc. The weapon howled through the air, creating a visible shockwave that forced Kairo to leap backward desperately. The edge still grazed his shoulder, spinning him mid-air.
He crashed onto the sand, rolling once before springing back to his feet, breathing harder now.
The Stormcrag fans roared in approval.
"THAT'S IT! CRUSH THE PRETTY BOY!"
Garok didn't give him a second to breathe. He charged like a battering ram, axe raised high for a devastating overhead smash.
Kairo dodged at the last moment. The axe slammed into the arena floor, cracking the reinforced stone and sending a shockwave that nearly knocked him off balance.
The announcer's voice cut through the chaos, dripping with dark excitement.
"LOOK AT THIS! SPEED VERSUS RAW POWER! WHO WILL BREAK FIRST?!"
Kairo was starting to tire. His movements were still fast, but the edges were dulling. Sweat mixed with blood on his face. Of course... I didn't expect this to be any easier!
Garok was breathing hard too, blood dripping from multiple cuts, but his eyes burned with stubborn, unyielding fury. He roared and swung again — a brutal backhand with the flat of his axe that caught Kairo across the ribs.
CRACK.
The impact sent Kairo flying across the arena. He slammed into the mana barrier with a sickening thud, the shield flaring bright as it absorbed the force.
Crimson Reach fans screamed in outrage.
"GET UP, KAIRO! DON'T LET THAT BRUTE WIN!"
Stormcrag supporters roared with savage joy.
"CRUSH HIM, GAROK! SHOW THEM WHAT REAL WARRIORS ARE MADE OF!"
Kairo pushed himself up, coughing blood, but he forced a bloody grin.
Monster...
He dashed in again, blade a silver blur, landing a deep slash across Garok's shoulder that made the bigger man drop to one knee for a split second.
Stormcrag fans howled in anger.
The fight dragged on.
Kairo was faster, landing more hits, chipping away at Garok's defense like a relentless storm.
Garok tanked a few, absorbing punishment that would have killed lesser men and retaliating with hits that felt like falling mountains.
Both men were exhausted, covered in blood and sweat, chests heaving, yet neither would back down.