Chapter 6
The silence in the colossal arena was deafening. Thousands sat frozen, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
An Earthling.
A mere Earthling had defeated a proud warrior of the Gnor race—effortlessly, and in under a few minutes. It was not just victory; it was overwhelming dominance.
Then, like a dam breaking, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.
Power. That was what they respected. That was what they worshipped.
And Raven Ling had just demonstrated it in terrifying magnitude.
The announcer, jolted from his trance, stammered into his crystal mic.
"V-Victor of the match... Raven Ling!"
But the battle wasn't truly over. Not yet.
Anyone familiar with the rules of the Survival Matches knew this was only the beginning of the end. A cruel and vital tradition remained.
Down on the stage, the air grew still. From Torac's broken body, a radiant white crystal floated free—pulsing faintly like a dying star—and drifted toward Raven's outstretched hand.
The entire colosseum fell silent once more.
Raven caught it gently, holding it with both hands. A frown tugged at his lips.
This shouldn't have been possible. When a being died, their soul space collapsed in on itself—sealing away everything within. Yet here was the soul core, floating to him without resistance.
He stared at the crystal. Its light was soft. Innocent. Almost... beautiful.
But Raven's expression twisted.
Because he knew what this meant.
The crystal wasn't just Torac's essence—it was tethered to the life force of his homeworld. The Gnor planet. To crush it would be to annihilate it. Utterly.
Millions, perhaps even billions, would die.
Raven clenched his jaw. His fingers tightened around the crystal—but didn't move.
He hated this. Hated the way the rules forced him into playing executioner. If he refused to destroy it, he risked violating the rules of the match. But if he did... he would become a planetary butcher.
"Crush it already!" someone from the crowd shouted.
"Ling, this isn't a charity. Do it or face the consequences!" came another jeer from the Low Ascendants.
A cacophony of voices rose, growing louder and more vicious.
But then—
"Enough," said a calm voice.
It wasn't loud. But it cut through the noise like a blade of silence.
All at once, the colosseum quieted. Because the voice had come from one of the Sovereigns.
Lord Hiva.
The God of the Third Seat stood tall, his expression unreadable. His serpentine eyes gleamed like twin suns. Raven felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"Don't waste our time," Hiva said coldly. "Crush the crystal. And leave."
Raven's throat tightened. The pressure of the Sovereign's gaze was suffocating. But somehow, he forced himself to speak.
"I'm sorry... but I can't do it."
Gasps rippled through the colosseum.
Raven tossed the crystal aside, his expression layered with conflict—rage, guilt, dread, and above all... conviction.
"I can kill someone who tried to kill me," he said, his voice low but steady. "I can even end hundreds of lives if they pose a threat or have committed unforgivable crimes. But this—" he gestured toward the crystal, "—this isn't justice. It's genocide."
He paused, inhaling deeply as he hold the glowing white crystal
But how could he do it?
How could he bring himself to wipe out billions of lives—men, women, children—people he had never met, never harmed him, never even knew his name?
He tried to reason with himself. Surely, among them, there must be some—hundreds, maybe thousands—who had committed atrocities worthy of death. That was inevitable across any civilization. But... what about the rest?
What about the innocent?
What about the children who had just begun to explore the world around them, wide-eyed and unaware of its cruelty? What about the mothers cradling their newborns? The elderly recounting tales to their families beneath a setting sun?
He wasn't a saint. Far from it.
He had slain countless beasts and warriors of every race imaginable to rise to this level. But there was always a reason. A fight for survival. A quest for strength. A need to protect.
But this?
This wasn't justice. This wasn't survival.
This was mass extinction—for show.
And for what?
So a pantheon of godlike beings could be entertained? So they could balance their so-called cosmic scales by erasing entire worlds over the death of a single warrior?
No. He wouldn't stoop to that level. He refused to become something so monstrous.
Raven took a deep breath, lifted his gaze to Lord Hiva, then to the other Sovereigns watching from their divine thrones. With slow reverence, he lowered his head into a deep bow.
His voice, when it came, was quiet. Humble. Steady.
"My Lords, if I have spoken out of turn... I ask for your forgiveness."
"I understand your wisdom in hosting these Matches of Survival—to refine the strength of races and weed out weakness. I do not question your authority. I honor it. But I beg you... please reconsider this one rule."
He held the glowing white crystal before him, trembling slightly in his hand.
"To end an entire world... because one of its children has fallen? That is not judgment. That is obliteration."
"I do not speak as a warrior now, but as a man. A man who has taken lives and paid the price for power. But I've always fought with reason. With purpose."
He swallowed, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
"There may come a time when another warrior rises from that planet. One who could one day serve your will. One who could shape the tides of fate. But if we destroy that future now... we lose more than a world. We lose what that world might become."
"Please... I beg of you. Do not make me the hand that ends them all."
The arena was silent.
Raven kept his head bowed. His hands trembled. The crystal still pulsed gently in his grip, like a dying heartbeat.
Then a voice cut through the stillness. Smooth. Amused.
"Well," came a drawl. "Quite the speech."
Raven looked up to see Sovereign Kraven, the God of War, lounging on his throne, cheek resting lazily against one hand.
"Very passionate. Thoughtful, even." Kraven smiled faintly. "But it doesn't change one simple fact."
His voice dropped, turning cold.
"You are a mere mortal... and you dared question us."
The colosseum grew tense.
"Such insolence cannot go unpunished."
Kraven sat up straighter now, the smile gone.
"Raven Ling, you are hereby charged with Defiance of Divine Order."
Gasps rippled across the arena.
"As such," Kraven continued, his voice like falling ice, "you will stand trial before this colosseum. If you are found guilty—and trust me, the evidence is clear—your punishment will not be yours alone."
His eyes glowed like molten steel.
"Your world—your Earth—will be obliterated. Every life, every soul... gone."
Raven's face went pale.
The weight of it hit him all at once. What he'd hoped would save lives had now brought his entire world closer to destruction. This wasn't a trial. It was a sentence. A farce designed to silence him.
He lowered his head, eyes shadowed.
Then his hand shifted—gripping the hilt of his sickle blade.
He raised his head again, slowly.
And this time, his eyes were burning with unyielding resolve.
"I object," he said.
Kraven blinked, then tilted his head. "You… what?"
"I object to a normal trial," Raven said, his voice steady.
Kraven's tone turned amused. "You can't. It's not your choice."
But Raven didn't flinch. He shook his head, yellow-gold energy beginning to swirl around him in radiant pulses.
"No," he said. "If my world is to be judged because of me… then let me stand for it. With my blade."
He raised his voice, projecting it across the entire colosseum.
"I invoke Trial by Combat."
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To Be Continued...
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