On the lower plateau of the training grounds, heat had taken on a different meaning.
Today, it radiated from a single name.
Laxus Verda.
Exalted inheritor of Hyperion—Titan of the sun.
The heir to burning divinity. His Aspect flared faintly with every breath, wreathing him in golden sunfire.
He stood calmly at the center of the sparring ring, golden hair tousled by a breeze that hadn't existed moments ago.
Across from him stood Siege.
Silent. Coiled.
Students gathered at the edges of the pit—whispers flickering like moths.
"Why pair a Titanic with an Exalted?"
"Isn't that... reckless?"
"Reckless? It's murder."
Albion leaned against the wall beside the others, arms crossed, his coat stirring in the breeze. His gaze flicked to Siege with something between concern and calculation.
Thrakkor's gravel-rough voice cut across the arena like an axe to bark.
"You asked for higher stakes, boy. This is what it looks like. If you break, it's your fault. If you die… I'll remember your name for a week."
The students around the ring chuckled nervously.
Leo gave Siege a double thumbs-up and a grin. "Go get 'im, Siege. Or, you know, die dramatically. That works too."
Albion murmured, mostly to himself, "He'll get turned to glass."
Siege didn't respond.
His focus was drawn taut, breath shallow, mind racing.
Laxus rolled his shoulders with the ease of a tiger stretching.
"No offense," he said, "but you're not going to win."
Siege stared. "I'm not here to win."
Laxus raised an eyebrow. "No? Then what are you here for?"
"To see how close I can get before it breaks me."
A glimmer of amusement crossed Laxus's face. "Fair."
At the far edge, Instructor Thrakkor raised a hand.
"Begin."
No countdown. No mercy.
Just one word, and the sun tried to kill him.
Laxus moved like a thunderclap.
One moment serene, the next—a streak of radiance that cracked the air. Siege barely twisted aside as a glowing fist blurred past his jaw.
The heat scraped flesh from his cheek. He struck back, on instinct—fists coiled with raw motion—but Laxus caught his wrist without flinching.
"You're... slow," Laxus said, bored, before slamming Siege into the obsidian floor.
Once. Twice.
An indention was formed on the ground..
Siege rolled aside with a gasp, blood already in his mouth.
He stumbled to his feet and felt his Aspect rise—but it was like reaching for a blade still buried in stone.
He couldn't summon Gram. Couldn't even feel it.
Siege rolled aside as a beam of pure sunlight scorched the place he'd landed. The air around Laxus shimmered like a mirage.
A halo of controlled brilliance hung over his head, coiling and uncoiling with every breath.
[Helios] wasn't just fire. It was celestial judgment.
Siege charged again, fists up, dodging another lightstrike by inches.
He feinted right, pivoted low, and went for Laxus's knee.
He hit flesh.
A clean strike.
Laxus didn't even flinch.
Instead, he grabbed Siege by the collar and threw him like a rag doll.
Mid-air, Siege twisted and landed on his side.
He rose too fast. His shoulder throbbed. Blood trickled from his ear.
"You're holding back," Laxus said. "That's cute. Let me show you how that ends."
A solar flare detonated across the ring.
Heat peeled the color from Siege's world. For a heartbeat, he felt himself burning—skin blistering, eyes scorched blind, lungs filled with cinders.
And then it stopped.
He was on his knees. The crowd was distant. The world was ash and ringing.
*I'm going to die here.*
It wasn't a panicked thought. It was cold. Final.
Like a tomb door closing.
Laxus approached slowly, the heat around him warping the light. "You're Titanic, right? Where's your weapon? Where's your power?"
Siege tried to speak, but only blood answered.
"You're just another corpse waiting to happen."
Laxus lunged again.
Siege blocked with his forearms crossed—but the light pierced through his defense like a knife through parchment.
It wasn't physical force. It was conceptual pressure. Solar might, focused into each strike.
Crack. Another rib gone.
Siege staggered, mouth filling with the coppery taste of blood.
Laxus lifted a single golden hand—and it glowed with the judgment of the sun.
The crowd leaned forward.
Albion moved for the first time, his voice cutting the air like a scalpel.
"Get up, Siege."
It wasn't a shout. It was quiet. But it echoed.
"Or die like a dog. Your choice."
Something in Siege clicked. Not bone. Something older. Something deeper.
It wasn't rage. It was remembrance—the memory of burning.
The memory of Fafnir's cruel voice, of endless night, of being hunted like prey in a cave that never ended.
He had died once.
And yet he stood.
His Aspect ignited.
It didn't blaze like Laxus's sunfire. It roared.
Horns split from his skull, black and jagged, curving back like twisted obsidian
His slit-pupils eyes glowed with seething-copper light.
New black scales formed beneath those burning orbs.
His nails sharpened to a point and his body radiated an invisible force of oppression.
The stone cracked beneath him as his aura deepened—twisting like the mouth of a dragon's grave.
"Finally," Laxus said, and his smile sharpened. "Now you're interesting."
Siege screamed—and Gram answered.
It didn't appear.
It erupted from the void.
A greatsword longer than he was tall.
Its blade dark blue, edges trimmed in silver, etched with wave-like patterns that shimmered faintly, as if cast from moonlight over deep waters.
He gripped it with two trembling hands. His breath came in ragged bursts. But he felt truly alive.
Laxus's smirk faded just slightly.
Then he drew his own Armament—Therme, the Imperial Gold sword.
Its radiance was almost blinding. Sunlight given steel, laced with divine heat.
Their weapons clashed.
The shockwave scatted dust throughout the ring.
The first exchange sent Siege flying.
But not unconscious. His feet carved trenches through the stone.
His shoulder dislocated, then snapped back into place with a sickening pop.
Laxus was too fast. Too brutal. Too complete.
But Siege was learning.
Every strike that hit him taught him something. Every slash he blocked, every burn he endured, fed him.
"Is that your thing?" Laxus shouted mid-swing. "Suffer until you win?"
"Something like that," Siege coughed. "Better than being born perfect."
Laxus laughed—and punched him in the face.
Darkness. Pain. Blood.
But Siege rose again.
He moved differently now. His footwork less human, more predator.
He weaved beneath a burning strike and carved a line across Laxus's ribs.
The Exalted's blood hissed in the air like molten gold.
Laxus stared at the wound, and his eyes narrowed.
"You dare."
Laxus unleashed a nova.
Fire expanded like a miniature sun—meters of heat in one breath. Students fell back, shielding their faces.
Thrakkor stood unmoving, eyes narrowed, arms crossed.
Siege didn't fall.
He screamed back—and charged through it.
His flesh blackened, his clothes burned away in places—but Gram stayed firm.
The blade sang once—and struck.
Laxus blocked it just in time, the impact throwing both of them apart. Smoke billowed. Blood coated the ring.
Silence.
Then—
Thrakkor appeared between them like a guillotine descending.
His hand clamped onto both of their weapons.
"Enough."
Neither could move.
"You," he growled at Laxus, "were trying to kill him."
Laxus looked unconcerned. "He fought like he wanted to be."
Thrakkor turned to Siege.
"And you—finally started to fight like a monster."
Siege was breathing smoke, his vision doubled, the horns still curling from his skull.
"...Nice," he mumbled, before collapsing.
---
He woke up hours later in the infirmary.
Albion sat beside the bed, flipping through a dusty book on metaphysical resonance.
"You're not dead," Albion said without looking up. "Which is inconvenient. I lost a bet."
Siege groaned. "What... happened?"
"You screamed. You grew horns and summoned a sword. Then you fell over."
Siege blinked. "I summoned Gram?"
"Yeah. It's big. Pretty cool, too."
Siege chuckled, winced, then lay back. "I was going to die."
Albion finally looked at him. His silver eyes were sharp.
"But you didn't."
Siege stared at the ceiling. The ache in his body was deep—but the fire inside had changed.
He had seen the bottom of himself.
And something had looked back.