The Grand Arena was a bowl of white stone, carved into the earth like a crater. Ten thousand seats rose in tiers, filled with nobles, instructors, and students. The air smelled of roasted meat, perfume, and anticipation. It was a festival of violence.
Cassian stood in the tunnel beneath the stands. The shadows were cool. He preferred them. The sunlight outside was too bright. His pupils didn't contract anymore. The light just poured in, washing out the world.
He wore heavy robes, hooded, gloves tight. They hid the black skin. The obsidian scales. The void eyes.
"Next match," a herald announced. The voice boomed, amplified by magic. "Thorne of House Valerius versus Cassian Vane!"
The crowd murmured. The name Vane carried weight now. Not respect. Fear. Rumors had spread from the dungeon. *He walked through poison. He broke stone with his hands. He is not human.*
Thorne walked out first. He wore polished steel armor, enchanted with wards of protection. He held a rapier infused with fire runes. He looked confident. He had spent a fortune on tutors and artifacts for this moment. He believed the script. The noble defeats the outlier. Order is restored.
Cassian stepped into the light.
The murmur died. The heat of the sun hit his robes. He didn't feel it. He walked to the center of the sand. His footsteps left deep impressions. He was heavier than he looked.
Thorne waited ten paces away. He raised his rapier. The tip glowed red.
"Surrender," Thorne said. His voice shook. He was sweating. The armor clanked as his hands trembled. "I don't want to kill you. But I will."
Cassian stopped. He lowered his hood.
A gasp rippled through the stands. The black skin was visible now. The neck, the face, the hands. He looked like a corpse burned and rebuilt.
Thorne's eyes widened. He took a step back. "What... what are you?"
Cassian didn't answer. He dropped his robes. They fell to the sand. He stood in trousers and boots. His torso was a map of dark plates. The violet veins pulsed beneath the surface.
"Begin!" the herald shouted.
Thorne panicked. He thrust the rapier. A jet of fire erupted from the blade. It was a high-tier spell, capable of melting steel.
The fire engulfed Cassian. The crowd screamed. The heat was visible, warping the air.
Cassian walked through it.
The flames licked over his black skin. They didn't burn. They didn't even leave a mark. The adaptation from the training room held. His body recognized the heat. It accepted it. It was just energy.
Thorne stopped casting. He stared. The rapier lowered slightly. "Impossible."
Cassian closed the distance. He didn't run. He walked. Heavy. Inevitable.
Thorne thrust again. Physical this time. The steel tip aimed for Cassian's heart.
Cassian didn't dodge. He caught the blade with his left hand.
The steel screeched against the black skin. It didn't cut. The friction sparked. Cassian's fingers closed around the blade. The metal groaned. It bent.
Thorne tried to pull back. The sword was stuck. Cassian's grip was a vice.
Cassian stepped in. He raised his right fist.
Thorne raised his arm to block. The gauntlet was enchanted steel.
Cassian punched.
The sound was wet. The gauntlet crumpled. The bone beneath shattered. Thorne screamed. He fell to his knees.
Cassian didn't stop. He grabbed Thorne by the collar. He lifted him one-handed. Thorne dangled, feet kicking uselessly.
"Yield," Cassian said. The voice was grinding stone.
Thorne sobbed. Blood bubbled from his mouth. "I yield! I yield!"
Cassian held him for a second longer. He looked at the stands. He looked at the nobles. He looked at Instructor Kael in the VIP box.
He dropped Thorne.
Thorne hit the sand. He didn't move. He was unconscious. The medics rushed out. They didn't look at Cassian. They were afraid to touch him.
Cassian stood alone in the center. The silence was absolute. No cheers. No boos. Just dread.
He looked up at the VIP box. Elian stood there. He wasn't sitting. He was leaning forward, hands on the railing. His face was pale. He wasn't looking at Thorne. He was looking at Cassian.
Cassian met his gaze. He didn't blink. He couldn't. His eyelids were too heavy.
Elian turned away. He walked out of the box.
Cassian turned to leave the arena. His shoulder throbbed. The impact had cracked a rib. He felt the fracture happening. He felt the body beginning to knit it, densifying the bone further.
*Cost recorded,* he thought. *Rib density increased. Flexibility reduced.*
He walked back into the tunnel. The shadows swallowed him.
Kael was waiting there. He held a clipboard. He didn't look happy. He looked concerned.
"You made a scene," Kael said.
"He attacked," Cassian said.
"With fire," Kael said. "And you walked through it. Do you know what that looks like to the Council? Demonic possession. Ancestral curses. They don't like things they can't classify."
"Let them classify," Cassian said. He picked up his robes. He pulled them on. They scratched against the scaled skin.
"Thorne's family will demand compensation," Kael said. "They want your head."
"Let them try," Cassian said.
Kael stepped closer. He lowered his voice. "Elian left the box. He's heading to the training wards. He's upset."
"Good," Cassian said.
"Cassian," Kael said. "You're forcing his hand. The Hero doesn't act until the climax. You're dragging him into the second act. The story might break."
"The story is already broken," Cassian said. He walked past Kael. "I'm just cleaning up the pieces."
He exited the arena. The air outside was cooler. He breathed it in. His lungs filtered the dust.
He headed for the training wards. He knew where Elian would be. The secluded courtyard. The place where they started.
Cassian walked through the academy grounds. Students cleared the path. They didn't whisper anymore. They went silent.
He reached the courtyard. Elian was there. He stood in the center. He held his sword. The rusted scrap metal. But now it glowed. A faint white light emanated from the steel.
*The Sunheart Blade,* Cassian thought. *Too early. He unlocked it early.*
Elian looked up. "You shouldn't have come."
"I needed to see," Cassian said.
"See what?"
"If you're still human," Cassian said.
Elian tightened his grip. The light flared. "I'm trying to save you, Cassian. The academy... they're using you. Kael. The Headmaster. They know what you are. They're breeding a weapon."
"I know," Cassian said.
"Then stop," Elian said. "Let me help you. Verra says there's a reversal process. We can strip the adaptation. You can be normal again."
Cassian looked at his hands. The black scales shimmered. He couldn't feel the wind. He couldn't feel the heat of the sun. He couldn't remember his mother's voice.
"Normal is weak," Cassian said. "Normal dies in the snow."
Elian raised the sword. "Then I'll stop you. Before you become something else. Before you hurt more people."
Cassian didn't draw a weapon. He didn't need one. He shifted his weight. His legs locked. The dense bone anchored him to the earth.
"Come," Cassian said.
Elian charged. The sword left a trail of white fire. It was faster than before. Stronger. The Protagonist's power was scaling to match the threat.
Cassian waited. He calculated the trajectory. The angle. The speed.
He stepped aside. Just an inch.
The sword missed his throat by a millimeter. The heat singed his hair.
Cassian grabbed Elian's wrist.
The white fire burned his hand. The black skin sizzled. It didn't break. It absorbed.
Elian's eyes widened. He twisted, trying to break free. He couldn't.
Cassian leaned in. Close enough to see the fear in Elian's eyes. The Hero was afraid.
"You can't save me," Cassian whispered. "There's nothing left to save."
He pushed Elian back. Not hard. Just enough to create distance.
Elian stumbled. He regained his balance. He raised the sword again. But his hand shook.
"Next time," Cassian said. "I won't step aside."
Cassian turned. He walked away. He didn't look back. He knew Elian wouldn't strike. Not yet. The Hero needed certainty. He needed to know he could win.
Cassian didn't give him certainty. He gave him doubt.
He walked back to the dormitory. The sun was setting. The shadows were long.
He entered his room. Julian was there. He looked at Cassian's hands. The black skin was cracking slightly. Bleeding a dark fluid.
"You're falling apart," Julian said.
"No," Cassian said. He sat on the bed. "I'm settling."
He looked at the ledger in his mind. The debt was massive. Thorne's family. The Council. Elian. The Academy.
He would pay it all.
In blood. In bone. In flesh.
He closed his eyes. His heart beat once every thirty seconds. *Thump... ... ... Thump...*
He was running out of time. But he was also running out of humanity.
Soon, there would be nothing left but the weapon.
And weapons don't feel pain.