Regan simply watched him, expression unchanging, as though waiting for something more… interesting to happen.
"Is this truly how you've held onto fourth place all these years?" Regan asked, voice mild, almost curious.
Jeffer's face twisted with fury. "Shut your mouth!" he roared, veins bulging along his neck as he strained harder.
Regan gave the faintest shrug. "Well then… it seems I'll be taking that position from you today."
With a casual flick of his wrist, the six black nails spun away and they clattered harmlessly across the stone floor.
Jeffer's arms fell limp to his sides. His eyes locked on the scattered spikes, wide with disbelief. "No… no way…" he whispered, humiliation searing through him like acid. Then his features hardened into a desperate snarl. "I'm going to crush you!"
He surged forward, spiritual energy surging into his right fist, but before his foot could complete the step, Regan's palm was already raised.
A translucent sphere of shimmering air snapped into existence around Jeffer, trapping him mid-stride.
"What… what is this?!" Jeffer thrashed, but the bubble held him fast, unyielding.
Silence swallowed the entire colosseum. Thousands of eyes stared, unblinking.
Then lightning erupted inside the cage.
Crackling white-blue arcs lashed Jeffer from every direction, searing flesh, scorching clothing, forcing his body into violent spasms.
The air itself hummed with raw, electric fury.
All the spectators were too stunned to make a sound.
Lord Dorian Hawthorne, the ruler of Golden Peak stared from his high tower, eyes narrowed in rare astonishment.
'Confinement followed by lightning execution… such synergy is exceedingly rare,' he thought.
Other sovereigns were also stunned.
In the Star Haven tower, Lord Silas Valehart shot to his feet, face drained of color, chest rising and falling in shallow horror as he watched his champion writhe.
Regan lowered his hand and the sphere dissolved.
Jeffer collapsed to the arena floor in a boneless heap, body rigid, hair standing on end, skin blackened in ugly patches, faint wisps of smoke curling from his form.
Up in the Skylit tower, Alistair Rehn reached for the final cookie on the plate. He bit into it slowly, expression as serene as ever.
A long, breathless moment passed.
Even the few citizens of Skylit who attended were too shocked to cheer.
Then the stands erupted into frantic, overlapping whispers.
"Did… did Skylit Realm just win?"
"What does this mean for the rankings?"
"The upper realms haven't shifted like this for years. This… this is historic."
"The lowest realm has climbed into the upper echelons? Just like that?"
"Doesn't that push Star Haven down to fifth… making them a lower realm now?"
Minds raced, unable to process the upheaval.
The elder drifted back into the center of the arena, his usual composure tinged with genuine intrigue. He studied Regan for a long moment.
"Warrior," he said at last, voice carrying across the stunned silence, "if we may know… what is the name of the technique you just employed?"
Regan met his gaze evenly.
"Volt Cage," he answered simply. "It does precisely what you've all witnessed."
The elder gave a slow, almost reverent nod, murmuring half to himself, "Such a plain name… for a technique so formidable."
He turned, lifting his eyes toward the Skylit tower.
"Lord Alistair Rehn," he declared, "my congratulations on your realm's victory! The hierarchy has shifted and this day marks a new era. Do you have any words for the Divine Empyrean Palace on the occasion of this unprecedented promotion?"
A ripple passed through the stands as every eye turned toward the Skylit tower.
Alistair rose from his throne.
Among the sovereigns of the seven realms, he stood out starkly. He had to be the youngest ruler among all of them, perhaps early to mid-twenties at most, yet there was nothing boyish about him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and possessed a striking, almost otherworldly handsomeness framed by his dark, thick long hair that stopped just below his chin, and even his presence commanded the arena without effort.
His green eyes swept the colosseum once, before he spoke.
"From this moment forward," he declared, voice clear and resonant, carrying to the farthest reaches of the stands, "Skylit Realm will no longer exist. Henceforth, we shall be known as… The Supreme Domain."
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in a bustling modern world dominated by towering skyscrapers and glowing screens, Diane Richardson sat in the back of a late-night taxi, heading home. She scrolled absently through her phone, the soft blue light illuminating her tired face.
The ride was calm, the city hushed except for the steady hum of tires on asphalt and the occasional distant horn.
She rested her forehead against the cool window and let out a long, exhausted sigh. "I just want to get home and crash," she muttered under her breath.
Her heavy eyelids lifted, and then snapped wide open.
A brilliant, unnatural light had bloomed in the sky directly overhead.
"What the..?" She sat up straighter. "Driver, do you see that? Up there?"
The man behind the wheel glanced at her through the rearview mirror, one eyebrow raised like she'd lost her mind. He said nothing and kept driving.
Diane frowned and pressed her face closer to the glass. "Wait... that's not normal. It's... it's getting bigger. Or closer. Is it… is it coming toward us?"
The driver's eyes flicked to her again, clearly debating whether to answer or just ignore the crazy lady in his backseat.
Before she could process another thought, the glowing orb, now pulsing with deep crimson streaks, spiraled downward with terrifying speed and slammed straight into the taxi.
Diane screamed as searing light flooded the interior.
The brilliance passed clean through her body
She wobbled backward in pure reflex, staggering, and landing hard on her butt.
For a heartbeat, everything was blinding white.
She blinked rapidly, shielding her eyes with one hand. "What... what just happened?"
When her vision cleared, the taxi, the road, the city, they were gone.
She was no longer on Earth.
All around her stretched an impossible, dreamlike landscape with a violet sky that felt too close, fogged ground, crystalline trees that chimed softly in the breeze, and flowers that glowed.
It looked like something pulled straight from a fairy tale... or a fever dream.
Diane sat frozen on soft, moss-like ground, mouth open, heart hammering.
"Where... the hell am I?"