The morning came with unusual stillness.
Kaelen woke before dawn. The duel was today by 1:00 PM. Fifteen hours had become five.
He dressed Orderly— the standard academy uniform for males: a jacket over a shirt and long pants. The Aether Chain fastened around his left wrist, the F-rank crystal secured in his pocket. His movements were deliberate, calm. The panic from days ago had crystallized into something sharper. Focus.
He checked his status screen one final time.
[HP: 300/300]
[A.E.: 350/350]
Full reserves. Good.
He left the dorm before most students rose, the corridors still shadowed and quiet. The academy's energy grids hummed their usual rhythm through the walls, a steady pulse that matched his heartbeat.
Outside, the courtyard was bathed in pre-dawn blue. The air was crisp, carrying the faint metallic tang of the power grids. Kaelen breathed deeply, letting the cold settle in his lungs, and began walking toward the western wing.
Toward Combat Dome 7.
...
The arena was massive in the early light.
Kaelen stood at the entrance, looking up at the curved structure. Transparent sections of the dome revealed the interior—tiered seating that could hold thousands, aether-suppression fields humming faintly along the perimeter, crystalline displays waiting to broadcast every moment.
He stepped inside.
The arena floor was empty. The seats stretched upward into shadow, silent and waiting. Kaelen walked to the center, his footsteps echoing against the polished surface. He closed his eyes and circulated his aether, feeling the stable flow through his channels. The reinforcement from Aether Harden vibrated beneath his skin like an armor being scrapped.
"Testing the space?"
Kaelen's eyes snapped open.
A figure stood near the edge of the arena... he was large, broad-shouldered, scales faintly visible along his jawline catching the dim light. Torven. The Dravari mutation student from Professor Nyra's class.
They'd never really spoken.
Torven walked closer, his movements careful, measured. He stopped a few meters away, arms crossed. For a long moment, neither said anything.
"You're early," Torven said finally, his voice low and rough-edged.
"Preparation," Kaelen replied.
"Smart. Most people show up nervous. You are... preparing." Torven's amber eyes studied him with an unreadable expression.
"I watched your first fight with Jax. The cafeteria."
Kaelen tensed slightly. "And?"
"You didn't run." Torven's scaled jaw shifted, something almost like respect flickering across his face. "Most first-years would've. Especially against a Sentinel."
"I didn't know about ranking systems then. And even if i did, i didn't have much choice."
"Everyone has a choice." Torven looked toward the empty seats. "I know what it's like to be stared at. Mutation class—people assume things. That you're unstable, dangerous, that your power controls you instead of the other way around." He paused. "You're Unique. Different assumptions, same weight."
Kaelen swallowed. He hadn't expected this conversation.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked quietly.
Torven's expression hardened slightly. "Because today, everyone will be watching. Not just to see if you win—they want to see what kind of person you are when the pressure hits." He uncrossed his arms, scales along his forearms glinting faintly.
"Jax is strong. Experienced. But strength without principle is just violence."
He turned toward the exit, then paused. "Professor Nyra says control is harmony, not dominance. Remember that when it gets bad." Torven walked away, his footsteps fading into the corridor.
Kaelen stood alone in the center of the arena, the words settling over him like weight and promise both.
Control is harmony.
He closed his eyes again and breathed. By 11:00 AM, the academy was alive with anticipation. Students flooded the corridors, their voices buzzing with speculation. The duel notification had gone campus-wide hours ago, and now everyone knew: Jax Hanlay, Sentinel—Emerald Badge versus Kaelen Burn, Unranked First-Year.
It was unprecedented. Ridiculous. Exciting.
Kaelen made his way to the preparation chamber adjacent to the arena. The room was stark—white walls, a single bench, a mirror, and a small display showing the arena feed. He could see the seats filling rapidly, thousands of students pouring in. The noise was already building, a low roar that vibrated through the walls.
He sat on the bench and forced himself to breathe steadily.
A knock at the door.
"Come in," he said.
Sera entered, her expression calm and unreadable as always. She carried nothing, just walked in and stood before him.
"Final check," she said.
Kaelen stood. Sera circled him once, assessing his posture, the way he held his weight. She tapped his shoulder lightly.
"Center of gravity. Don't forget."
"I won't."
"Footwork. Silent. Deliberate."
"I know."
She stopped in front of him, crystalline gray eyes meeting his. "Technique before strength. Precision over power." Her voice was firm, but not unkind. "You've trained for this. Trust it."
Kaelen nodded.
Sera turned toward the door, then paused. "One more thing. If you use Spatial Lance, aim low. Legs, not torso. You promised."
"I remember."
"Good." She left without another word, the door sliding shut behind her.
Kaelen exhaled slowly. His hands were steady. His breathing was controlled.
He was ready.
12:50 PM
The preparation chamber door opened again. This time, a voice over the intercom: "Kaelen Burn. Report to staging."
He stood, rolled his shoulders, and walked into the corridor. The noise hit him like a wave. Through the transparent sections of the dome, he could see the crowd—packed seats stretching endlessly upward, students from every year, every rank. The arena displays showed his name in glowing letters:
KAELEN BURN | YEAR 1 | UNRANKED
Opposite, on the far side:
JAX HANLAY | YEAR 3 | SENTINEL—EMERALD
The crowd was deafening. Some cheered. Others jeered. The energy was electric, chaotic, alive.
Kaelen stepped onto the arena floor.
The suppression fields hummed around the perimeter, a faint shimmer in the air. The ground beneath his feet was smooth, reinforced crystal designed to withstand at least Sentinel Mastery-level combat. Lights overhead cast sharp shadows.
Across from him, Jax emerged from the opposite entrance.
He looked different—more composed, more dangerous. His uniform was pristine, his emerald badge glinting on his chest. His expression was calm, but his eyes carried a cold intensity.
They met in the center.
Between them stood Serene.
She wore her official disciplinary uniform, her expression severe and neutral. Her presence commanded immediate silence. The crowd's roar dimmed to hushed murmurs.
"This is an officially sanctioned duel," Serene started, her voice amplified across the arena. "Between Jax Hanlay, Year Three, Sentinel rank—emerald badge—and Kaelen Burn, Year One, unranked."
Her gray eyes swept over both of them. "Standard combat rules apply. Lethal force is prohibited. Victory by knockout, yield, or my judgment."
She looked at Kaelen. For the briefest moment, something flickered in her gaze—not sympathy, but acknowledgment. She had tried to stop this. He had chosen it anyway.
"Combatants ready?"
Kaelen nodded.
Jax smiled faintly. "Ready."
Serene stepped back to the edge of the arena, her hand raised.
The crowd held its breath.
"Begin."
...
Jax moved first.
Not a lunge, not an obvious attack—just a step forward, testing distance. His aether flared orange around his fists, the sign of an active ability. Each movement carried weight, deliberate force held in check.
Kaelen activated Chrono-Perception immediately. The world fractured into slow motion, Jax's movements stretching into readable arcs.
Jax jabbed—quick, controlled, but the air itself seemed to compress around his fist. Kaelen sidestepped, his footwork silent, and deliberate. Center of gravity. Don't lean.
The punch passed inches from his face. He felt the displaced air, the raw power behind it.
Another jab. Another sidestep. Jax's eyes narrowed. His stance shifted fractionally.
Kaelen could feel it... Jax was probing him, measuring his reactions, looking for openings. This wasn't the reckless aggression from the cafeteria. It was an observation.
Jax feinted left, then struck right with enhanced speed. Kaelen raised an aether shield, the construct forming instantly.
[–15 A.E]
[Aether Regeneration Lv.1]
The blow connected.
CRACK
The shield held, but barely. The impact reverberated through Kaelen's arm, numbing it momentarily.
[–13 HP]
[Health Regeneration Lv.1]
The impact alone was enough to damage him. That's a grade A-rank abilty based on strength. One direct hit without the shield would be fatal.
Jax stepped back, reassessing. His fists still glowed with that steady orange light. "You're using constructs well. Good defense."
In the crowd, whispers rippled:
"He blocked a Titan's Grip strike?"
"That shield would've shattered against anyone else..."
"How can just aether do that?"
"He's a Chronomancer isn't he? Is this shouldn't hold..."
Kaelen didn't hear them. His focus was fixed. He flexed his fingers, feeling sensation return to his arm. Jax came again, this time with a low sweep aimed at Kaelen's legs—pure technique, not relying on his ability. Kaelen activated Flash Step, blurring backward, creating distance in an instant.
[–19 A.E]
Jax stopped mid-motion, his expression shifting. Not anger. Interest. "You're different," Jax said quietly, his voice barely audible over the crowd. "Looks like someone's training is helping them. Your footwork... it's not self-taught, right?"
Kaelen didn't respond. He adjusted his stance, breathing steady, watching Jax's shoulders for the next tell. Jax's aether pulsed once, orange light intensifying around his arms. "Good. This won't be boring."
Jax stopped testing.
His aether surged, muscles visibly reinforcing beneath his uniform. [Titan's Grip]... his A-rank Enhancer ability, fully engaged now. The air around him seemed to thicken with pressure.
He surged forward, and suddenly Kaelen understood the difference between an Enhancer at rest and one unleashed.
The first strike came like a cannon shot. Kaelen raised another shield, but this time the construct cracked, spider-web fractures spreading across its surface before it shattered entirely.
[–15 A.E]
Kaelen barely dodged the follow-up, the punch missing his ribs by a hair's breadth. The shockwave alone rattled his bones.
He's not faster, Kaelen realized, rolling away. But the power behind each blow—one solid hit and I'm done.
Jax pressed forward relentlessly. Strike. Strike. Strike. Each one calculated, measured, but carrying enough force to crack the reinforced arena floor where they landed.
Block. Dodge. Retreat.
[–15 A.E.] Shield... shattered.
[–19 A.E.] Flash Step... barely escaped.
[–29 A.E.] Aether Burst to create space.
The explosive release of energy sent Jax skidding backward several meters. His boots left grooves in the crystal floor.
The crowd erupted in shock.
Kaelen was breathing hard now, sweat rolling down his temples. His A.E. was dropping steadily:
[A.E: 253/350]
But he was still standing.
Jax straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders. His expression had shifted from interest to something darker—acknowledgment mixed with irritation. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Not bad," Jax said, his voice carrying across the suddenly quiet arena. "You actually made me work for it."
His right foot pivoted—exactly 2.3 degrees.
Kaelen's breath caught. Daniel's data.
"But let's see how you handle this," Jax growled.
His aether exploded outward, orange light blazing. Titan's Grip concentrated into his right palm, the air warping visibly around his hand from the sheer density of power. This was his signature technique—a devastating palm strike that had ended dozens of matches.
Jax surged forward with blinding speed, the charged strike aimed directly at Kaelen's chest.
Kaelen activated Chrono-Perception and the world slowed.
He saw it clearly: the trajectory, the concentrated force, the way Jax's weight distribution created a brief opening on his left side. The enhanced strength made Jax's strike powerful, but it also required commitment.
Kaelen stepped inside the strike.
Jax's eyes widened fractionally—the first time Kaelen had seen genuine surprise on his face.
Kaelen drove his knee into Jax's exposed midsection, his own aether-coated leg striking before Jax could adjust. Then he pressed his palm against Jax's chest and released Aether Burst point-blank.
[–29 A.E.]
BOOM
The explosion sent Jax stumbling backward, gasping, his enhanced strength momentarily working against him as the force transferred through his reinforced body. He crashed to one knee, coughing. The crowd went absolutely wild.
Kaelen stood in the center of the arena, chest heaving, fists coated in faint blue light. His uniform was torn, he was covered him sweat and little blood grazing from his hand.
...
In the faculty section, Professor Nyra leaned forward slightly, golden eyes gleaming with what might have been approval.
In the crowd, Daniel was on his feet, screaming incoherently. Lira watched with quiet intensity, a small smile on her face. Torven's scaled arms were crossed, but his expression showed clear respect. Sera, standing near the faculty section, remained motionless. But her crystalline gray eyes tracked every movement with sharp focus.
Jax rose slowly, one hand pressed to his midsection. His breathing was labored. His uniform was scorched from the Aether Burst. And his expression was no longer calm and dominant. It was furious and irritated.
"You..." he said quietly, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "You actually hurt me."
His aether flared violently, orange light crackling around him like flames. "A first-year. An unranked first-year made me bleed."
Kaelen said nothing, but he shifted his stance, ready.
"Good," Jax growled, his voice dropping to something dangerous. "Now I don't have to feel guilty about what comes next."
"You never did," Kaelen said with a low scoff.
Jax came at him like a natural disaster.
No more measured strikes. No more calculated restraint. Titan's Grip blazed at full power, every punch carrying enough force to shatter tungsten.
Kaelen's defenses crumbled.
A strike grazed his ribs, the shockwave alone sent him spinning.
CRACK
[–40 HP]
He tried to block the next one, but his hastily formed shield exploded on contact, and the residual force clipped his jaw.
[–25 HP]
He tasted blood.
[Flash Step Lv.1]
[–19 A.E]
He created distance, but Jax anticipated it, cutting off his escape route with a sweeping strike that carved a trench in the arena floor.
[A.E.: 215/350]
[HP: 235/300]
Kaelen was bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow. His vision swam. Every breath sent sharp pain through his ribs that was probably cracked.
Play it safe. Outlast him. Wait for an opening.
But Jax wasn't slowing down. If anything, he was getting stronger—his Enhancer ability fed by his rage, his Guardian-level stamina far exceeding Kaelen's own reserves.
Another strike. Kaelen tried to dodge, but his body was too slow, too battered. The punch caught his shoulder, spinning him around.
[–30 HP].
He hit the ground hard.
[HP: 200/300]
The crowd's roar became a distant hum. Kaelen's hands trembled as he pushed himself up. His legs barely held.
I can't outlast him.
Jax stalked forward, fists still blazing orange. "Get up. We're not done."
Kaelen's hand moved to his pocket. The F-rank crystal. His fingers closed around it.
He crushed the crystal. Aether flooded his system.
[+30 A.E.]
[A.E.: 245/350]
Kaelen stood, his legs shaking. He activated––
[Spatial Warp Lv.1: Distorts space between user and target to create a distance or shorten the distance. [–24 A.E]
He distorted the space between them. Jax's next strike passed through empty air, the displacement throwing off his aim.
"What—"
Kaelen used Flash Step...
[–19 A.E]
Repositioning in a blur, circling to Jax's blind side. His movements were desperate, running on fumes and will. Jax turned, tracking him with growing frustration,
Kaelen raised his hand.
The air around his palm began to warp.
[Spatial Lance Lv. 1]
[–38 A.E.]
Aether condensed into a single point, space itself compressed into a razor-thin projectile. The distortion was nearly invisible, marked only by the shimmer of bent light and the low hum of reality straining.
At the edge of the arena, Serene tensed, her hand moving toward the suppression field controls. If that lance went off-target...
Kaelen aimed low. Legs, not torso. As promised
He released it.
SHRIIEK
The Spatial Lance shot forward, a streak of distorted space that cut through the air like a knife through silk.
Jax saw it coming a fraction of a second too late. His eyes widened. He tried to dodge, his enhanced strength allowing him to push off the ground with explosive force...
The lance clipped his left thigh.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Jax's leg buckled, the spatial distortion tearing through muscle and destabilizing his stance. He crashed to one knee, gasping, his aether flaring wildly as Titan's Grip automatically tried to reinforce the damaged limb.
Blood seeped through his torn uniform.
The crowd went silent.
Kaelen stood fifteen meters away, swaying slightly, his raised hand still trembling from the energy expenditure. His vision blurred at the edges.
[A.E.: 164/350]
[HP: 208/300]
His A.E reserve was nearly empty.
But Jax was down.
Kaelen forced himself forward, each step agonizing. He had to finish this before...
Jax looked up.
And smiled
"You're good," Jax said quietly, his voice somehow carrying across the silent arena despite barely being above a whisper.
"Better than I expected. Better than you had any right to be."
He stood.
Impossibly, he stood. His injured leg trembled, blood still flowing, but his aether blazed brighter, Titan's Grip reinforcing his body beyond what should have been possible.
"But this," Jax said, his voice dropping, his expression shifting into something serene... almost peaceful, "is why a Guardian-level don't lose to a mere beginner in cultivation, like you."
His aether surged, not outward in an explosion, but inward, collapsing into a dense sphere around his body.
The arena trembled.
Kaelen's breath caught. What is—
Jax's eyes closed. His lips moved, words spilling out in a voice that resonated with layered power:
"Iron born of fire, forged in the crucible of will. Strength eternal, unyielding foundation
Manifest: Forge of the Titan's Oath."
The space around Jax fractured.
Reality bent like glass under pressure. A shimmering overlay spread outward from where he stood, ghostly flames erupted from nothing, licking at the air. The silhouette of a massive anvil appeared behind him, semi-transparent but real. Walls of molten stone materialized in a twenty-meter radius, their surfaces flowing like liquid yet solid as mountains.
Aether Domain: Level 2 – Firmament's Foundation.
The crowd erupted:
"He has a Domain?!"
"That's Guardian-level power!"
"This is prohibited in duels..."
"A Domain... he manifested it—"
Serene's expression darkened immediately. She stepped forward, her voice cutting through the chaos: "Jax! Domain manifestation is—"
"Still within combat parameters," Jax interrupted, his voice echoing strangely, layered as if speaking from inside and outside the forge simultaneously. "I haven't attacked. I'm simply... equalizing the field."
His injured leg no longer trembled. The blood flow stopped, the wound not healed but reinforced, held together by the sheer density of aether within his Domain.
Jax stood at the center of his manifested forge, spectral flames wreathing his shoulders, his eyes now glowing molten orange. The anvil behind him pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"Level 2: Firmament's Foundation," he said, looking at Kaelen with something beyond anger or pride—certainty. "Within my Domain, Titan's Grip doesn't operate at A-rank anymore."
He clenched his fist. The air screamed.
"It transcends a rank entirely."
Jax stepped forward. The arena floor cracked beneath his foot, spider-web fractures spreading outward from the point of contact.
He punched the air.
The shockwave from the motion alone sent Kaelen stumbling backward, wind pressure slamming into him like a physical wall. His feet skidded across the crystal floor, barely maintaining balance.
[–45 HP]
From pressure alone.
"Within my forge," Jax said quietly, walking forward with measured steps, each one cracking the ground, "strength has no ceiling. Force has no limit. This is what it means to reach Guardian level, Kaelen Burn."
The spectral flames intensified, the molten walls closing in slightly, the entire Domain radiating oppressive heat and pressure.
"Let me show you the difference between our worlds."
Jax charged.
And the air itself seemed to shatter from the force of his movement.