The arena's air hummed faintly, the scent of charred ozone lingering from the last match. The announcer's voice rang out, sharp and energetic.
"Next—Kaelith Dravorn of the Dravorn Clan!"
The roar from the stands was instantaneous. Even the most stoic elders leaned forward in interest. Kaelith did not simply walk into the arena—he strode as though the ground itself existed to carry him. His long silver hair flowed behind him, catching the sunlight like strands of lightning, and his deep violet eyes scanned the crowd with unhurried contempt. The faint crackle of electricity danced around his fingers.
At just Foundation Establishment – Early Stage, he had already carved a reputation as one of the Academy's most dangerous students. The Dravorn Clan's lightning bloodline surged through his veins, and his every step seemed to dare the world to challenge him.
His opponent, a solid-looking youth in Qi Condensation – Peak Stage, squared his shoulders and gripped the hilt of a steel saber. He was no weakling. But the difference in realms was a gulf few could cross.
Kaelith tilted his head, smiling faintly. "I'll make this quick. Try not to bore me."
Before the referee could finish signaling, Kaelith moved. No—he vanished.
A blinding streak of silver-blue light appeared behind his opponent, and with it came the hiss of serpents in a thunderstorm.
Thunder Serpent Fang.
A coil of pure lightning qi erupted from Kaelith's right hand, taking the form of a crackling serpent with fangs of blinding light. It struck the youth's back before he could even turn, the impact releasing a deafening boom. The force threw him across the arena, his body twitching as arcs of lightning danced over his skin.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The strike had not only overwhelmed him—it had paralyzed his limbs.
Kaelith walked forward, the echo of his boots carrying easily in the stunned silence. He stopped beside his fallen opponent, crouched, and placed a single finger on the boy's forehead. A faint arc of lightning made the youth cry out in pain.
"Remember this," Kaelith murmured, voice low but carrying across the arena. "There's always a bigger serpent."
The referee rushed to intervene, but Kaelith rose smoothly, brushing his robe sleeve as though flicking away dust. His gaze swept the crowd again—and then paused.
On the opposite side of the arena, in the waiting zone, stood Edran Vale.
Kaelith's smile returned, but it was sharper now, the kind a predator wears when it catches the scent of rare prey. For the briefest moment, violet eyes narrowed, scanning Edran from head to toe. A flicker—barely perceptible to anyone watching—passed through his expression. Recognition? Interest?
In Kaelith's mind, a memory stirred. Dragon Vein…? The image of an ancient mural from the Dravorn Clan's vault came unbidden: a great azure-scaled dragon coiled around a mountain, its eyes glowing with the same quiet intensity that now looked back at him from Edran's face.
So… the bloodline still exists.
He didn't linger. With a casual wave to the crowd, Kaelith exited the arena, his arrogance back in full display. But the calculation in his eyes told a different story—one only Edran would later come to understand.
From the stands, murmurs spread like wildfire.
"That was Thunder Serpent Fang! I heard he mastered it before even reaching Foundation Establishment!"
"He's terrifying… and that look he gave the Vale boy—what was that about?"
"I don't know, but something tells me the next time they meet… it'll be bloody."
Edran didn't react outwardly, but deep inside, a pressure coiled in his chest—not fear, but something sharper. The Dragon Vein within him pulsed faintly, as though recognizing a challenge of its own.