Leo's boots whispered against the grass, the forest thinning behind him as the capital rose in the near distance. Stone and steel etched in gold by the late morning light. He'd leveled to seven. He felt it in his blood. Subtle, but real. Each step is a little lighter. Each breath was a little steadier.
A part of him wondered what came next.
The city gates would be swarming. Adventurers in and out. Market wagons, system users, rookies with wide eyes and sharp dreams. He could just ask the guards where the Astral Arena was when they reached the gate.
"I could take us there, if you want."
The voice hummed inside his skull. Calm, clear, and impossibly close.
Leo froze mid-step. "Wait. You can hear me when I'm just thinking?"
"Only when you direct it toward me. You've started doing that without realizing."
He turned to look at Ai, who still walked at his side, hands in her sleeves, gaze forward as if the conversation wasn't happening in the space between seconds. The cats, one on each shoulder, yawned in sync.
Leo blinked. You can teleport?
She glanced at him, then gave a small nod. Within system-recognized regions, yes. As long as they're open or you have access.
His thoughts raced. That wasn't just useful. That was game-breaking.
He hesitated, then nodded once. "Let's do it."
No incantation. No elaborate chant. Ai just stopped, lifted one hand in the air like she was drawing something only she could see, and with fingers that moved like dancers, she swept across a transparent interface that flickered into view. Lines. Symbols. Maps. She zoomed in with a flick. Dragged. Tapped.
A ring of pale gold bloomed beneath their feet.
The magic circle pulsed once, warm, almost comforting.
And then, they vanished.
They reappeared in sound.
A crash of cheers like thunder in a canyon slammed into Leo's ears, the air dense with heat, dust, and something else. Anticipation. He staggered a step back, disoriented.
In front of them towered a wall.
Not just a wall. A fortress. A kingdom within the capital. Its battlements shimmered with spellwork. Emblems moved like shadows beneath glass.
He stared up, mouth slightly open.
"Welcome to the Astral Arena," Ai said.
Leo didn't answer. He just walked.
Each step brought them deeper. Each step pulled more noise into his bones. The entrance led to a wide corridor.
The hallway narrowed.
And then, he reached it.
A wall of water.
Or what looked like it. The boundary shimmered in place, rippling like it had a heartbeat of its own.
Leo didn't stop.
He stepped through.
The sensation was brief, cool pressure brushing his skin, like walking through a silk curtain.
Then—
Light. Color. Roars that could tear sky from stone.
He stood in an open arena so vast it felt like stepping into another world entirely. Colossal columns rose into nothingness. Skyless, but not dark. Above, constellations swirled in a dome of magic—alive, moving, watching.
His breath caught.
And then the voice came.
Lively. Piercing. Reverberating from every direction at once.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN!"
The crowd surged. Leo squinted toward the far balcony. A floating platform hovered above the arena's edge, where the announcer twirled a glittering staff overhead like a baton.
"Let's welcome the one, the only—WINTER WARLOCK!"
A blast of frost exploded into the air. A woman stepped into the spotlight, pale hair trailing like falling snow. She didn't wave. She just looked. Sharp, cold, unbothered.
"Every man's dream," the announcer crooned, "and every criminal's nightmare! She's offering FREE cryotherapy sessions for volunteers!"
The crowd howled. Someone near the front held up a sign: Freeze me, Queen!
The warlock raised a single hand, fingers already glowing. "I can freeze you all. Right here, right now."
The roar doubled.
Leo's brows rose. "Okay. That's intense."
Ai looked amused.
"And now!" the announcer cried. "The living army! The storm with a sword! The man, the myth, Burdado!"
Cheers turned guttural. Burdado barely moved, just gave a lazy glance toward the Astral Sovereign.
"This better be good," he said, voice low, gravelly.
The woman smirked. "It will be."
The announcer spun again. "The master planner, the legend in flesh, the one who built this battlefield from her bare will and brilliance—ASTRAL SOVEREIGN!"
A woman stepped forward from a glowing walkway, her cape trailing stardust. She didn't speak. She just lifted one hand, and the arena responded. Glyphs lit up. The ground shifted beneath them. The crowd fell silent in reverence.
Even Leo was stunned. She didn't even cast spells. She was magic.
The quiet didn't last.
"And finally," The voice dropped low. Almost reverent.
The crowd braced.
"...the one whose wings once darkened the heavens. The ancient, the absolute. DRAGON GOD!"
The sound exploded.
The walls trembled. Even the air pulsed.
Leo turned slowly and saw him.
Seated. Massive. Scaled arms folded. Golden eyes like dying stars. He didn't move. Didn't need to.
The crowd didn't care. They screamed anyway.
Around Leo, the arena pulsed with light and sound, color and heat. Spells danced across the air like birds of prey.
He turned in place slowly, trying to take it all in. Trying to breathe.
The Astral Arena wasn't just a battleground.
It was another world.
And it was calling to him.
The crowd's roar hadn't even died down when the announcer's voice shot up again, slicing clean through the noise.
"And now," he said, with a dramatic pause, his arm raised toward the far end of the arena, "the one who asked for the Scourge Rite!"
A collective hush rippled through the crowd. Leo felt it, a tension that wrapped around his spine and settled behind his ribs.
"He who devours anything in his path… He who made his name feared even among the elite adventurers… The Dragon God's warlord…"
The announcer's voice dipped low and thunderous.
"—the Dragon Lord!"
The far gate split open like jaws. Firelight poured through the cracks.
Then came the footsteps. Slow. Echoing. Heavy.
A figure stepped out into the light. Tall. Lean. Draped in red armor, scorched with old magic. His grin was already there, carved onto his face like he was born with it.
The Dragon Lord raised his head and locked eyes with Leo.
"Well," he said, voice sharp enough to cut steel, "you actually came."
Leo didn't answer. Something primal in him kicked—fight or flight—and neither felt like the right option.
The Dragon Lord kept walking, casual, predatory.
"I was starting to think you'd back out. Run off." His grin widened. "But maybe you just like the pain."
Gasps and whispers buzzed through the stands like static.
"Still," he added, stopping now halfway to the center ring, "you should've stayed gone."
His gaze flicked briefly up toward the balcony.
The Dragon God still hadn't moved. Still seated. Still watching.
"And now that he's here," the Dragon Lord said, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, "your luck's all dried up."
His hand fell to his side. A faint hiss rolled off the metal plating of his arm like it had just exhaled smoke.
"Because I won't lose," he finished, eyes burning, "not in front of him."
The crowd erupted again.
Cheers. Shouts. A name screamed over and over.
Leo stood frozen in the light, the arena alive around him.