The atmosphere inside the expanded Iron Petal Arena was suffocating. The air was charged with the static of thousands of competing Prana signatures, and the high-pitched hum of the Siphon-Array hidden beneath the sand acted as a constant, low-frequency thrum in Konja's teeth. Above, the sky was a hazy violet, the sun beginning its slow descent to make way for the blood-red moon that already ghosted the horizon.
Konja stood in the center of the ring, his boots sinking slightly into the white, chemically treated sand. Across from him stood a man who looked less like a fighter and more like an executioner.
Sunder was a giant of a man, his skin the color of old parchment and covered in jagged black tattoos that pulsed with a rhythmic, sickly light. He didn't wear a traditional gi; instead, he wore heavy iron plates bolted directly into a leather harness. But it wasn't Sunder's size that made the crowd go silent—it was his Crest-Mon.
Floating behind Sunder was a Void-Leech, a creature that looked like a tangled mass of translucent, oily tentacles with a single, unblinking eye at its center. It didn't chirp or roar; it made a sound like a wet blade sliding across stone.
"Be careful, Konja," Mina's voice whispered through the communication ear-piece she had fashioned from apothecary crystals. "Sunder's Void-Leech doesn't attack the body. It feeds on the link between the fighter and their companion. If he catches Zale, the feedback could shatter your soul."
Konja glanced at Zale, who was trembling on his shoulder. The little blue fox's fur was standing on end, and he was letting out a low, terrified whimper.
"I know, Zale," Konja whispered, reaching up to scratch the creature's ears. "But we've practiced the Bitter-Endurance. We don't break. We just get tougher."
The First Strike
"Match start!" the announcer bellowed.
Sunder didn't move. He simply pointed a finger. The Void-Leech lunged, not toward Konja, but toward the space just above him. It moved with a sickening, liquid speed, its tentacles lashing out like whips made of shadow.
"Zale, Volt-Slide!" Konja commanded.
Konja dived to the right, his body blurring with the Flash-Fry Step. He expected to feel the rush of the creature passing him, but instead, he felt a sudden, sharp coldness in his chest. The Void-Leech hadn't missed; it had created a localized vacuum, sucking the Prana out of the air around them.
Konja stumbled, his breath hitching. The connection to Zale flickered like a dying lantern.
"First lesson, boy," Sunder growled, his voice like grinding gravel. "A warrior is nothing without his pet. And your pet is just a snack."
Sunder moved then, with a speed that defied his massive frame. He was in Konja's face in an instant, his fist wrapped in a shroud of black, anti-Prana energy. He delivered a heavy blow to Konja's ribs.
Konja used the Salt-Pillar to brace himself, but the black energy bypassed his physical defense. It felt like a needle of ice being driven into his lungs. He flew backward, skidding across the white sand, coughing up a spray of crimson.
The Crest-Breaker's Method
The crowd roared, the wealthy patrons on the hovering platforms cheering as the "Ordinary" boy was tossed around like a ragdoll. In the VIP box, Baron Vane leaned forward, a cruel smirk on his face.
"Finish him, Sunder!" Baron yelled. "Show them what happens to street-rats who play with fire!"
Sunder walked calmly toward the downed Konja. The Void-Leech circled above, its tentacles vibrating. "You have a bit of spirit, I'll give you that. But your 'Munka-Style' is a relic. It relies on harmony. My style relies on the void. You can't balance what doesn't exist."
He raised his foot, intending to crush Konja's chest.
"Mina, now!" Konja wheezed into his earpiece.
From the edge of the arena, Mina focused her intent. She wasn't allowed to interfere directly, but she had planted something in the sand during the pre-match inspection. She sent a pulse of her own Sweet-Flow Prana into the ground.
A cluster of Iron-Vine Seeds erupted beneath Sunder's feet. They weren't meant to stop him, but they provided the one thing Konja needed: a distraction. Sunder's foot was caught for a fraction of a second, his balance shifting.
Konja rolled, springing to his feet. "Zale! Crest-Synthesis: Blue Ember!"
Zale didn't hop onto Konja's shoulder this time. He leaped into the air, spinning like a Catherine wheel. He unleashed a barrage of high-voltage sparks that coated the Void-Leech. The creature shrieked, its oily skin bubbling as the electricity reacted with its shadow-matter.
"You dare hurt my Leach?" Sunder's eyes turned a dark, bruised purple. "Secret Technique: Hollow Spike!"
Sunder slammed his palms together. The black tattoos on his arms detached from his skin, turning into physical shards of obsidian that shot toward Konja from all directions.
The Third Gate: Bitter Endurance
Konja saw the spikes coming. There was no room to dodge. He could hear Renzo shouting something in his ear, but the sound was drowned out by the roar of his own blood.
He's attacking the structure, Konja thought. He wants to shatter the Salt-Pillar.
"Then let him try," Konja whispered.
He closed his eyes and reached deep into his core, past the silver light, down to the foundation of his spirit. He thought of the years of carrying the heavy food cart through the mud. He thought of the burns on his hands from the hot oil. He thought of the cold nights in the shack. All of that was Bitter. All of that was the seasoning of his soul.
"Third Gate: Bitter Endurance—OPEN!"
A deep, ochre-colored aura erupted from Konja. It wasn't bright like the silver light; it was dense and heavy, looking like molten bronze. The obsidian spikes hit his aura and didn't pierce—they shattered.
Konja took a step forward. Then another. Each footfall left a deep, cracked indentation in the arena floor.
Sunder's face twisted in confusion. "What is this? You should be drained! My Leach is feeding on you!"
"He's feeding on the surface," Konja said, his voice dropping an octave. "But you can't drain the marrow of a Munka."
Konja blurred. He didn't use the Flash-Fry Step; he used a new variation he'd practiced in the blacksmith shop: the Pressure-Cooker Lunge. He moved with such force that the air behind him ignited from the friction.
He appeared in front of Sunder. He didn't use a palm strike. He used a simple, brutal elbow to the man's solar plexus.
CRACK.
Sunder's iron breastplate didn't just dent; it disintegrated. The giant man was lifted off his feet, his eyes bulging as the air was forced from his lungs.
The Flavor of Victory
But Sunder was a mercenary for a reason. As he flew back, he whistled a sharp, piercing note. The Void-Leech dived, its entire body turning into a black lance aimed directly at Zale.
"Zale, move!" Tali's voice screamed through the link.
But Zale didn't move. The little fox looked at Konja, saw the bronze glow of the Third Gate, and something shifted in the creature's own spirit. Zale didn't run; he grew.
The little fox's blue fur turned a deep, royal indigo. His three tails merged into one massive, sparking blade of energy.
"Technique Synthesis: The Dragon-Chef's Cleaver!"
Konja grabbed the air, and the energy from Zale formed a literal blade of indigo lightning in his hand. He swung the blade in a wide, horizontal arc. The edge of the blade hit the Void-Leech mid-dive.
There was no explosion. There was only a clean, silent cut. The Void-Leech split in two, its shadow-matter evaporating into the violet sky.
Sunder hit the arena wall with a thud that shook the entire stadium. He slumped to the sand, unconscious, his tattoos fading back into his skin.
The Aftermath and the Warning
The silence in the Iron Petal Arena was absolute. For the second time, the "Ordinary" boy had defeated an elite specialist. But this time, there were no cheers from the Lower Sluices—only a tense, fearful hush. The people knew that this victory had just made Konja the most dangerous man in Oakhaven.
Konja stood over Sunder, the indigo lightning blade fading from his hand. He was shaking, the heat of the Third Gate retreating and leaving him cold and drained. Zale hopped back onto his shoulder, looking exhausted but proud, his fur still humming with a faint electricity.
Elder Kaito stepped onto the sands, his eyes lingering on the shattered iron of Sunder's armor.
"Winner... Konja Munka," Kaito announced.
As Konja walked back toward the competitor's tunnel, he passed the VIP box. Valerius Vane, Baron's older brother, was standing at the railing. He didn't look angry; he looked hungry. He leaned over and locked eyes with Konja.
"Enjoy the taste of the Third Gate while you can, little chef," Valerius said, his voice carrying through the quiet arena. "But remember... the Crimson Moon rises in three hours. And the Fourth Gate isn't something you open. It's something that consumes you."
Konja didn't answer. He kept walking, his hand clutching the crimson ribbon on his wrist.
Inside the tunnel, Mina and Renzo were waiting. Mina immediately began applying cooling salves to his burned forearms, while Renzo kept a lookout for Vane assassins.
"You did it," Mina whispered. "But the Siphon-Array... Konja, it's at 80% capacity. Your fight with Sunder gave them a massive boost of energy. The ground is literally vibrating beneath us."
Konja looked down at his feet. She was right. The sand was humming.
"Then we don't have much time," Konja said, his silver eyes returning with a grim determination. "The next round is the quarter-finals. If the rumors are true, I'm facing Kalia Frost next."
"And after her?" Tali asked, joining them from the shadows, her tonfas dripping with the blue ichor of the guards she'd had to bypass to get back to them.
"After her," Konja said, looking toward the Great Spire that loomed over the village. "We take down the Hearth."
The sun dipped below the mountains, and the first sliver of the Crimson Moon appeared in the sky. The air turned a deep, bloody red. The final stage of the tournament was beginning, and the recipe for Oakhaven's future was finally coming to a boil.