The applause came late.
Not because Zach wasn't worthy—but because everyone was still trying to process what they'd just seen.
You don't clap when the storm ends. You just feel lucky you're still standing.
Zach stood in the center of the arena, bruised but upright, his shirt torn and blood dried near his nose. He didn't raise his fists. He didn't smile. He just looked up at the sky like he wasn't sure what came next.
Then Ronan Break's voice returned—steady, formal.
"As tradition dictates, the successor may now select champions to represent him in honor matches against visiting clans. This is to display not just individual strength, but judgment… and trust."
He didn't need to explain further.
Everyone already knew who Zach would call.
Zach pointed to us, still breathless. "Suit up."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Deya laughed under her breath. "Could've at least said please."
"I heard 'please' in the subtext," I said, already standing.
Nel was already halfway to the prep zone. Amir just shook his head, smiling as he followed.
A murmur went through the crowd as we stepped forward—not because we were unknown, but because for the first time today, we were on display. Not support. Not spectators. Combatants.
Representing Zach. Representing the Breaker heir.
And they were about to see what that meant.
Before the matches began, the announcer gave the floor to the visiting clans. Each would nominate a team to challenge us. The Umber Shield Union stepped forward first—three heavy hitters in reinforced armor, all domain users. Then came the Lotus Vein Collective, more agile, poison-based styles. Even the Shattered Fang Clan sent a brutal trio who looked like they'd trained in pure pain.
But then—
A single hand raised from the Smoke Brotherhood.
It was Taurus.
Still wearing his half-buttoned shirt and relaxed slouch, he wandered into the ring and pointed at us.
"Hope you don't mind," he said, cheerful. "Kinda wanted to stretch."
A judge raised an eyebrow. "You'll fight alone?"
He shrugged. "I'll go easy."
Back in the holding area, we all exchanged glances.
"That's not exactly a compliment," Nel muttered.
"It's not meant to be," I said.
Amir grabbed his sniper from the rack and slung it across his back beside his mace. "So… we're going to make him regret that, right?"
Zach walked past us on the way to the medical area, pausing just long enough to look at Taurus, then at me.
Zach gave the faintest smirk. "Make him yield."
Then he kept walking.
We entered the arena as a unit.
Taurus didn't even unsheath a weapon. He stretched like we were all sparring partners. When the whistle blew, he just stood there, hands in his pockets.
Deya vanished first—her essence suppressing completely as she darted around behind him. Nel flared hers in response, trying to bait a reaction.
Amir took the high ground with his sniper.
I approached from the front.
He waited.
Waited.
Until—
He moved.
It was the first time I understood the gap.
Not in skill.
In presence.
He caught Deya mid-step without turning his head. Deflected Nel's whips with a flick. When my blade came down, he ducked beneath it and backhanded me in the chest hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
Amir's shot landed directly on his shoulder.
And it bounced.
The crowd went silent.
Taurus finally smiled.
"Alright," he said. "Can we actually start soon"
Then he finally dropped his hands.
And the real fight began.