The afternoon sun burned fiercely over the arena, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The air buzzed with excitement as the crowd roared for the next match.
"The next contestants—Lior and Vex!" the announcer declared.
Lior stepped forward, his expression calm, sword resting loosely at his side. Across from him, his opponent—tall, broad-shouldered, with a smirk stretching across his face—laughed arrogantly.
"An easy win," Vex sneered as he cracked his knuckles. "You might as well surrender, boy."
Lior said nothing. His eyes were focused, steady, unmoved by the jeering crowd or his opponent's words.
The signal was given.
With a roar, Vex launched a blazing fireball straight at him. The flames tore through the air—but Lior's sword flashed once, and the fireball split apart, scattering harmlessly into sparks.
The crowd gasped. Before Vex could even blink, Lior vanished from sight.
A heartbeat later—thud!
Vex crumpled to the ground, Lior standing behind him with his sword's handle resting lightly against his opponent's head. The match had lasted mere seconds.
The arena fell silent before erupting into cheers.
"Winner—Lior!"
Lior sheathed his sword and walked calmly off the stage, his face unreadable. He took a seat quietly to watch the next matches unfold, uninterested in the noise around him.
Match after match followed—fighters clashing with flames, water, earth, wind, and steel. But it was the 16th battle that caught Lior's attention.
The crowd went silent as a man in a dark cloak stepped onto the arena floor. His opponent laughed, mocking him for his quiet demeanor. Yet, when the fight began, everything changed.
Blue fire erupted from the man's hands—cold, ethereal, and unlike anything the spectators had ever seen. It wasn't just hot—it was alive. His opponent's barrier melted instantly, and within seconds, the fight was over.
The man extinguished his flames and turned away without a word.
Lior watched him intently, eyes narrowing."Blue flames…" he whispered to himself. "That power—it's not normal."
The rest of the matches played out fiercely. The arena echoed with clashing steel, elemental bursts, and thunderous cheers. When the round of 64 ended, the top 32 warriors were selected.
Lior's next opponent was announced: Hans Velric, the arrogant son of a nobleman known for buying his victories.
"The tenth match tomorrow," the announcer read. "Lior versus Hans!"
Lior simply nodded, standing up. The sun was setting, and the golden light washed over the arena floor. He decided to take a walk through the city to clear his mind. The cheers, the noise, and the smell of battle—all faded as he wandered through quiet streets.
By the time he returned to his lodging, the moon hung high in the night sky. He lay down, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
"Blue flames… Hans… Tomorrow's going to be interesting," he murmured before closing his eyes.
The following morning, he awoke early, preparing calmly for his match. But fate had other plans.
As he stepped out of his home, shadows moved.
From the alley ahead, men emerged—armed, dangerous, eyes glinting with malice. Their leader stepped forward with a grin.
"Sorry, boy," he said, spinning a dagger between his fingers. "Your match ends here."
Lior exhaled softly, hand already resting on his sword."So… Hans sent you?"
The gang leader laughed. "You catch on fast."
Lior's eyes hardened, his voice low and steady."Then tell your employer I'm in a hurry."
And in that quiet, a storm was about to break.