The sky was cracked with smoke and flame, lit only by the faint embers of Balerion's fall and the burning remnants of what used to be a jungle.
Varion Ignar flew like a flaming spear across the scorched wind, his fiery wings carving trails of light through the ash-ridden air.
Beside him, drifting in curved arcs of speed and grace—Zephyra, monarch of wind, rode the jetstream she herself conjured, keeping pace through instinct and raw precision.
Far below, blackened trees and shattered rocks formed a battlefield too savage to be called part of any tournament.
"There—" Varion's voice was rough, full of fire and urgency. His burning eyes narrowed. "They're engaged. Fighting."
Zephyra focused. Her silver eyes scanned the valley. "I see Kael… and—wait…"
She squinted.
"…Sofie."
Varion's flame pulsed violently.
An almost explosive burst of heat surged around him, and without warning—
FWOOOOOOM!
He rocketed forward, the sky igniting in his wake, leaving a tunnel of scorched clouds behind him.
Zephyra blinked as the shockwave shook her balance slightly mid-air.
"…Oof," she said with a smirk, brushing silver strands from her face. "What a worrywart."
She let out a light laugh, then twisted her body and spiraled forward, wind blades trailing behind her as she caught up.
---
Kael roared like a berserker drenched in hellfire.
His greatsword was no longer silver—it was red, bathed in layers of blood, bone, and the viscera of those who dared get close.
The arena was no longer an arena.
It was a butchery.
Broken bodies littered the field like fallen statues. Limbs severed. Skulls cleaved. A dozen men lay in twisted, mangled heaps, some crawling, others begging—most already dead.
Kael moved like a storm unchained.
One man leapt at him—
Kael caught him mid-air by the throat, slammed him to the ground, then curb-stomped his skull into paste.
"YOU WANT HIM? COME THROUGH ME FIRST!"
He turned, swinging his blade with such force that it bisected two enemies at once, their torsos hitting the ground with wet, disgusting slaps.
Reina was more elegant. But not cleaner.
Her blood-threads danced like predatory silk in the air—shredding weapons, twisting around joints and ripping arms from sockets.
One contestant screamed, trying to run.
She twitched her fingers.
The man's own blood turned to spikes from inside his lungs.
He died before he could scream.
"They don't stop…" she muttered, flicking more blood from her sleeves. "Vultures."
"Kael—ten more to the left."
Kael didn't even look.
He turned and tackled them like a charging beast, blade dragging behind him and slicing the legs off one before he cleaved the rest like firewood.
And through it all—
Sofie stood firm.
A literal goddess of fire.
Her aura burned in golden waves, her arms etched in flame sigils that spiraled up her skin. Her boots were half-melted from standing still in a ring of ash she'd created.
Around her—dozens of bodies smoldered, limbs curled inward like dried husks, faces scorched to bone.
No one had even gotten within five meters of Klaus.
She made sure of it.
A contender with a flame spear launched himself forward, roaring.
Sofie's palm opened.
The air ignited.
The man was incinerated mid-lunge—his scream cutting short as his entire body turned to flame and ash.
She turned slightly, glancing behind her.
Klaus lay unconscious, breathing shallowly, face pale but untouched. His body wrapped in cloth, his blood slowly soaked through, but—alive.
Sofie tightened her stance.
More enemies came.
She responded with a wall of fire that rose ten meters high, then bent inward, folding them into an inferno dome that collapsed in a thunderous BOOM.
She whispered through clenched teeth:
"You're not touching him."
"Not while I still stand."
CRASH.
Like a meteor dipped in divine flame, Varion Ignar slammed into the earth—his descent kicking up a violent eruption of molten rock and vaporized ash.
The entire battlefield trembled.
Dust and debris scattered outward in a sonic pulse as his boots met cracked stone, flames licking at his back like a cloak of wrath.
Moments later—
Zephyra descended in a spiral of elegance, wind forming beneath her feet like translucent platforms. She hovered before landing beside him, the winds calming instantly around her presence.
Varion's fire dimmed. His crimson eyes scanned the carnage.
Kael panting, drenched in blood. Reina surrounded by dismembered corpses. Sofie crouched next to Klaus, her flames flickering low and faint.
Varion stepped forward, his voice booming like a royal decree:
"ENOUGH."
"The Games are over. The Ascendant Tournament has been shut down due to catastrophic interference. We are here… to evacuate you all."
The wind howled in eerie silence.
And then—
"Tch. You expect us to just leave?"
A cocky voice echoed from behind a half-collapsed stone outcrop.
A contestant stepped forward—arrogant, shirt torn but strutting like a peacock. Sword over his shoulder. Face smug.
"We're still standing. Some of us earned this fight. Just because some oversized lizard threw a tantrum doesn't mean we stop. I came here to win."
Dead silence.
Zephyra turned, slowly.
Her eyes—normally soft, windlike—had sharpened to cold razors.
"You dare challenge a Monarch's order?"
"You dare prioritize your ego over the lives that have already fallen?"
She raised one hand.
The wind snapped in sharp arcs across the sky—forming a vast floating disk, shaped like a spiraling wind platform, large enough to carry multiple people. Tendrils of air weaved like stairs and rails, solid yet ethereal.
"Enough is enough," she said coolly. "You will ride. Or I will hurl you there myself."
The arrogant one gulped—and stepped back like a scolded child.
Varion gave her a nod of respect.
Then turned toward the blood-drenched brawler standing like a war god in the middle of it all.
"Son."
Kael turned.
His armor was cracked. Face splattered with crimson. Greatsword embedded in the earth like a grave marker. His chest heaved.
"Father."
Varion walked up, then lifted one arm.
Dap.
Their fists connected. A rough grin passed between them.
"You held the line like a true Ignar."
"Always," Kael said through a grin, wiping blood from his jaw. "Didn't even scratch the paint."
Nearby, Sofie exhaled and collapsed to her knees beside Klaus, her body finally giving into exhaustion now that the tension had dropped.
She knew it was over.
They were safe.
Varion walked over next, his heavy footfalls softening as he saw the girl trembling by Klaus's side. The fires around her had dulled into embers.
"Sofie," he said warmly, with the most uncharacteristically soft puppy face he could muster. "It's time to go."
She nodded, trying to get up.
But as she bent to lift Klaus—
She tripped.
Straight into Varion's armored chest.
"Are you alright, dear?" he asked, catching her gently before she hit the dirt.
"Y-Yeah…" she mumbled, embarrassed.
"Just… I don't have the strength."
She looked at Klaus—bandaged, unconscious.
"Can you… carry him?"
For a moment—
Varion's face twitched.
He was about to protest. That was Klaus. The boy who scorched his estate. The anomaly tied to Sofie's trauma.
But then…
He looked again.
Sofie, scorched hands trembling. Tears at the edge of her lashes. Klaus—unmoving, barely breathing.
And Varion just sighed.
"…Yeah."
He knelt down.
Carefully, almost reverently, he slid Klaus over his shoulder in a gentle fireproof grip, holding the boy as if he were carrying his own.
"Guess you really did your part… didn't you, kid," he muttered under his breath.
---
BOOM.
Another gate opened nearby—and from the ashes emerged Emperor Malrik, cloak billowing like a sunburst.
Alongside him—Kaleus, dragging a wide-eyed, still-shaky Kaen by the collar.
"I WAS USEFUL I SWEAR—LET GO—THAT'S NOT HOW YOU TREAT A HERO—"
"You were crying," Kaleus muttered.
"SALT. IN. MY. EYES."
They landed just behind Varion and Zephyra, the group now reuniting in full.
Kaen spotted Klaus.
His playful tone vanished.
Kaen dropped beside him, checking his pulse."Still alive…" he muttered, breath shaky.
"Klaus…"
Then he noticed who was holding Klaus.
"Wait. YOU'RE carrying him?" Kaen asked, genuinely baffled. "Monarch Varion… Ignar… carrying Klaus like a princess bride?"
Varion glared.
"You wanna fly back with one less kneecap, runt?"
Kaen laughed. "Nah, nah—I think it's kinda sweet."
Zephyra floated down beside them.
"That's the last of them."
She looked around.
The survivors were boarding the windcraft she conjured, the dead respectfully laid aside.
But one thing was missing.
Her eyes scanned the horizon.
"Where's Varnyx?"
Everyone turned.
Even Varion looked up, startled. "He didn't return with you?"
Malrik shook his head solemnly.
"He'll join us shortly."
He glanced at the empty sky—silent and torn.
"For now… let's get everyone out."
---
Varnyx hovered alone.
Wings torn. Scales cracked. Trails of molten blood steamed across his obsidian hide.
He remained in his full draconian form, suspended above the shattered land—where Balerion's corpse lay smoldering like a fallen mountain.
The wind was dead.
Silence blanketed the air.
His chest heaved. Slowly. Painfully. Healing still underway.
And yet…
"Why did this fight seem… easy?"
The thought echoed in his mind like a cold whisper.
He said nothing more.
Just kept staring.
Unblinking.
Unmoving.
Watching Balerion's lifeless body…
And waiting for an answer that never came.