A voice echoed from above. Calm. Measured.
"Challenger Leon Aetheren. Status confirmed."
"Opponent: Irn Valek, Blade of the Quiet."
"Rank: 99."
"Conditions: First blood, or surrender."
"Spectators: 13 Sovereigns in observation."
Then, without further warning, Irn Valek stepped into view on the opposite side.
His expression was calm. His silver eyes half-lidded.
But his presence…
It dropped the temperature of the whole arena.
"Didn't expect you so soon," Valek said, drawing a blade that shimmered like frozen moonlight. "But I'm not one to turn away a knock at my door."
Leon didn't answer.
He just raised his hand, and Shell Pulse rippled around his fingers—calm, focused, without display.
Valek blinked once. "You're already syncing with the floor. Good."
He drew a second blade and dropped into stance.
The Duel Begins
No countdown.
No signal.
Valek vanished the moment the wind shifted.
