The coliseum had split in two.
On one side, the storm. Black-and-blue sparks burst wild from the boy's small body, streaking across the arena in erratic arcs that lit the sky like lightning in miniature. Every step he took cracked the earth, every breath came with the hiss of static tearing through the air.
On the other, the abyss. Draven stood still, his massive frame wrapped in haze black as tar, veined with crimson light that pulsed like a living heart. The haze swallowed the torches, ate the sparks, pressed down like a suffocating blanket.
Between them, the crowd watched in horrified awe—children clutching their parents, grown men and women whispering prayers, unable to decide whether they were at a festival or a funeral.
And in the center of it all, Orin laughed.
"Wow! You actually blocked me! Usually they go flying after the first punch—hey, don't break too fast, okay? I like my toys durable!"
His grin was wide, blood trailing from his lip, but his eyes burned with the reckless joy of a child in a playground.
Draven tilted his head, crimson eyes narrowing, his voice like a rumble from the deep earth. "…You think you're playing?"
"Of course I'm playing!" Orin barked back, sparks bursting with every word. "Fighting IS playing! C'mon, let's go again! Harder this time!"
The crowd gasped as another shockwave rippled outward, cracking the stone under their feet.
Draven's smile bent wider, crooked, hungry. "I'll enjoy breaking your plaything bones."
"Then I'll just get stronger bones!" Orin shot back, his laughter unshaken. "Maybe you can teach me, huh?"
The exchange ended as quickly as it began. Draven moved—slow, deliberate, one step forward. The haze pressed tighter, the air grew heavy. And then, with a sudden backhand, he swatted Orin across the ring.
The boy slammed into the sand, a spray of dust rising. The coliseum groaned with gasps, some crying out his name.
But the boy only coughed, staggered up, and grinned wider. "Hah! That almost felt like breakfast!"
He wiped blood from his mouth, then crouched low, aura storming up his arms. Sparks rained from his fingertips, his body trembling as if the power inside could no longer be contained.
"Alright then," he muttered. "Let's go big."
The crowd leaned forward as Orin thrust both hands to his side. The air shimmered, sparks crawling across his shoulders. The ground cracked beneath his feet, glowing faintly blue as his aura compressed, gathering like a storm ready to break.
He screamed, voice echoing across the arena:
"Dragon Vein Waaaaaave!"
A blinding surge of black-and-blue erupted from his palms. Lightning twisted, coalescing into the shape of a dragon, its form roaring, its maw wide as it lunged forward. The coliseum shook, sand lifted in a tidal wave, and thunder rolled from nowhere.
For one heartbeat, the crowd roared with him.
Then Draven raised his hand.
The haze thickened, pulling inward, forming a wall of black tar-veins that pulsed like muscle. The dragon slammed into it, sparks snapping, lightning screaming against shadow.
Half the dragon vanished instantly, swallowed whole, its body torn apart like paper against water. The haze devoured the ki, drinking it greedily, snuffing light out mid-flight.
But the other half struck through. Its broken head still lunged, still bit, and when it hit Draven's chest the explosion rattled the coliseum. Sand blasted upward, stone cracked, wind hammered the front rows so hard people shielded their faces.
The stadium split in two: one half chaos and lightning, the other silence and night.
The crowd erupted.
Some cheered, screaming the boy's name. Others collapsed into fearful silence. Parents pulled children close, nobles muttered prayers.
"Half's still good enough!" Orin yelled, laughing through blood, his chest heaving as sparks danced across his arms.
Yullan was already standing, hands gripping the railing so tight her knuckles whitened. "ORIN! GET BACK!" she screamed, her voice cracking. Her eyes blurred with tears, pride and terror twisting in her chest.
In the corner bench, Code's jaw tightened. For a moment, he had smiled when Orin released the Wave correctly. But now, his face hardened. So even the Wave isn't enough… that haze—it devours ki itself. He clenched the wood beneath his hands until it cracked, though he never moved. This is his battle. I cannot step in.
Dust cleared.
Draven still stood. His chest smoked faintly where the Wave had struck, but he barely seemed moved. His grin remained, wider, teeth flashing in the shadow.
Slowly, he lowered his arm. "Not bad… for half a dragon."
And then he stepped forward again.
Orin charged, fists swinging, sparks bursting. But Draven didn't dodge. He reached out, massive fingers closing around Orin's wrist.
The boy's sparks flared bright, but the haze crept down Draven's arm, wrapping Orin's hand like oil. The sparks dimmed, flickered, then began to vanish—pulled into the haze, devoured.
The crowd screamed.
Yullan covered her mouth, horror twisting her features. "No—he's… he's eating his lightning!"
Orin felt it too, his arm trembling, his power being drained like water through a sieve. He snarled, eyes wide, then—
"Hey! That's cheating!" he shouted, voice high, childish fury mixing with panic. "My hand's not a snack!"
And in the next heartbeat, Orin did the only thing his wild brain thought of.
He bit him.
His small teeth sank into Draven's hand, sparks bursting from his mouth, blue lightning snapping across his face. The haze recoiled for a moment, breaking its grip.
Draven actually laughed, deep and low, pulling his hand back. "You bite, do you? Hnh… good. Don't stop."
The crowd roared, some in fear, some in disbelief, as Orin shook his wrist free and staggered back, sparks reigniting across his arms.
Code's eyes narrowed, breath low. Even in madness… he's adapting. Every move, he's learning mid-fight.
The storm flared again. Orin crouched, fists raised, sparks jumping wild. Blood streaked his chin, his grin insane.
"You're tough!" he shouted. "Finally, someone who won't break! Let's go again!"
Draven tilted his head, eyes glowing brighter. "You amuse me, little storm. Show me how long you can play before I tear you apart."
The two charged, storm against abyss, lightning against shadow, their auras colliding in a maelstrom that made the very coliseum tremble.
And the grand final had only just begun.