The roar of the arena was a distant hum to Edran. Sitting in the cool shadow of a marble pillar in the competitors' hall, he let the din wash past him. His mind wasn't here—it was replaying every movement, every subtle shift in Kaelith Dravorn's stance during his earlier match.
Fast, but he favors overwhelming pressure in the opening exchange. Left side slightly heavier… a tell?
He closed his eyes, pulling up the familiar, translucent panel that only he could see.
---
[Cultivation Status]
Name: Edran Vaelthorne
Age: 17
Cultivation Realm: Qi Condensation – Mid Stage
Physique: Dormant Dragon Vein (Awakening: Unknown)
Cultivation Technique: Azure Dragon Breathing Art (Low Earth Grade)
Skills:
Azure Fang Strike (Martial Skill – Low Mortal Grade)
Draconic Pulse Step (Movement Skill – Low Mortal Grade)
Coiling Serpent Guard (Defensive Skill – Mid Mortal Grade)
Qi Reserves: 67%
---
A faint pulse of warmth seemed to stir in his veins at the sight of Dragon Vein—not enough to awaken it, but enough to remind him that his path was not the same as the others here.
"Next match—Aelric Vaelthorne versus Selene Marrow!"
The announcer's voice broke through his thoughts. His older brother, Aelric, stepped into the arena under the afternoon light. Qi swirled faintly around him—Qi Condensation, Late Stage—a testament to his rigorous training.
The fight was over almost before it began. Aelric surged forward, twin glaives cutting arcs of silver light, each strike wrapped in the force of his Whirlwind Sever Technique. Selene, a Peak Early Stage cultivator, had no chance. The crowd erupted as her guard shattered and Aelric's final sweeping blow knocked her weapon from her hands.
From the family's viewing box, their father gave a small, approving nod. Their mother's smile was faint but satisfied.
"Efficient as always," Edran murmured under his breath.
Two matches later, the announcer called again.
"Lyra Vaelthorne versus Corren Duskblade!"
Edran's younger sister stepped forward, her long braid swaying with each stride. She was Qi Condensation – Mid Stage, the same realm as him, but her specialty lay in agile, darting swordplay.
Corren was taller, heavier, and at the Late Stage, wielding a brutal cleaver-like blade. From the start, Lyra danced just outside his reach, slashing in with her Moonshadow Slice before retreating. For a time, she held the advantage—until Corren feinted, trapping her footing for just long enough to bring his blade down in a heavy arc.
Her sword clattered to the arena floor. The match was decided.
The crowd's cheer was polite but subdued. In the family box, their father's jaw tightened, and their mother's lips pressed thin. Lyra left the arena with her head high, but Edran saw the frustration burning in her eyes.
He exhaled slowly, gaze dropping back to the smooth marble beneath his boots. Aelric's victory had drawn more attention to the Vaelthorne name; Lyra's loss had added pressure for the remaining contender—him.
His eyes flicked to the arena, watching the dust settle from another bout. He could almost feel Kaelith's gaze from across the hall, a faint smirk playing at the Dravorn heir's lips.
Let him smirk. When I stand in that arena, he'll see more than a Mid Stage nobody.
Edran closed his eyes again, regulating his breathing in the rhythm of the Azure Dragon Breathing Art. Inhale—Qi swirls into the dantian, coiling like a sleeping serpent. Exhale—it spreads evenly, reinforcing meridians, tempering muscles. Each cycle left his body sharper, his focus colder.
When the announcer finally called his name, he rose in one smooth motion. The crowd's roar swelled. Somewhere in the stands, Lyra's voice rang out, "Don't hold back, Edran!"
He didn't plan to.