The crimson spell from Draven swelled toward Kaelith like a blazing comet, the air around it distorting with heat and power. The arena trembled under its weight; the ground cracked, sending shards of stone tumbling. Students gasped and stumbled back, some raising wards to protect themselves, others frozen by fear.
Kaelith's hand hovered over the system panel in his mind. Fifteen years. He had already burned fifteen for the Wrath Surge in the chimera battle. Another surge now might cost five. Another lifetime slice. But the crimson energy barrelled toward him, and he could feel Lyra's pulse thudding in his ears — the only thing anchoring him to reality.
> [Activate Wrath Surge – 150 NP – Cost: 5 Years Lifespan]
Nyxion's voice slithered in his mind, smooth and lethal.
> "Do it. Feel the power. Feel the rage. Feed me. Or die like a commoner."
Kaelith clenched his fists, teeth grinding. He could feel the years of loss, the hatred toward the nobles and monsters that had destroyed his family, the endless torment he had endured as an orphan. Every memory surged through him, raw and burning. With a thought, he activated the skill.
A dark aura exploded from him, black as obsidian but tinged with violet sparks. It radiated outward, shaking the arena. The air hissed, warping around him. His muscles felt lighter, his movements sharper, faster than any human could be. The crimson comet met him, and instead of being obliterated, it shattered against the black aura, fragments exploding in all directions.
Draven staggered, eyes widening. "Impossible… what power is this—"
Kaelith didn't answer. He moved, a shadow in motion, slashing toward Draven with the Shadow Dagger. Each strike left trails of dark fire that sizzled against the ground and rock walls, searing in their wake. Sparks rained like fireworks as blade met sigil shield, the collision echoing like thunder.
> [Negative Points: 315]
[Remaining Lifespan: –5 Years]
The audience gasped. Students whispered rapidly. Some stepped back, unnerved by the raw aura and sheer precision. Nobles, who were used to sneering at commoners, now stared with disbelief. For a fleeting moment, Kaelith felt the weight of all eyes on him — envy, admiration, fear — but it didn't break him.
He feinted left, then lunged under Draven's swing. His dagger pierced the noble's side, leaving a searing black trail across his torso. Draven roared, summoning a burst of crimson energy that flung Kaelith backward. Kaelith slammed against the arena wall, rocks cracking beneath him, dust choking the air.
Lyra shouted from the stands, but her voice was drowned in the roar of combat. Kaelith could feel her fear. Her warmth. It anchored him, a reminder that all this power existed not for glory but for something infinitely more important — her.
He rose, chest heaving, the system panel flickering in his mind. Nyxion purred with amusement.
> "That was fun. But you're barely tasting it. Give me more."
Kaelith shook off the lingering pain and focused. His Shadow Dagger glowed, and he moved with a predator's grace, faster than Draven could react. Each strike, each step, each twist of his body demonstrated not just raw power but mastery born of pain and hatred.
Draven unleashed another spell, the air igniting in scarlet fire, but Kaelith anticipated it. He leapt, vanishing into the shadows, reappearing above the noble and plunging the dagger down. The strike hit, and a flash of black fire enveloped Draven, searing through his defenses.
The arena floor shook violently. Students screamed, some backing against the walls. Even Instructor Varik raised an eyebrow, a rare flicker of surprise in his otherwise stern expression.
> "So, this is the commoner," a murmur ran through the audience. "The one with the black dagger… he's not just lucky. He's terrifying."
Draven fell to his knees, gasping, his energy flickering. Kaelith stood over him, aura pulsating like a living thing. He could feel the weight of Nyxion's pleasure, a strange, twisted satisfaction.
> "Do you surrender?" Kaelith asked, voice low, cutting through the roaring tension.
Draven's lips curled in a grimace. "I… will not bow… to a street rat!"
Kaelith's eyes narrowed. One more strike — precise, calculated, not fatal. The dagger hovered just above Draven's chest. The noble's eyes widened, understanding the choice before him. He slumped forward, conceding defeat without words.
The arena erupted in murmurs, some cheering, some gasping. Kaelith retracted his dagger. His chest heaved. His lifespan felt heavier now. Fifteen years burned in the chimera trial. Another five here. His body ached like he had been torn apart and stitched together by shadow fire.
Lyra ran to him, throwing her arms around him. "Kaelith… you… you won!"
He didn't hug her back. He let her warmth touch him briefly, then pulled her aside. "Stay back. It's not over."
> [Arena Match Complete: Win by Incapacitation]
Reward: +400 Negative Points
Bonus: +2 Rank in Academy Entrance List
Punishment: Lifespan reduced by 5 Years
Nyxion's voice hummed with amusement.
> "Oh, delicious. You've hurt him, broken him, and tasted his fear. Wonderful. And all without dying yourself. I'm impressed, little pawn."
From across the arena, Draven scowled, struggling to rise. "This isn't over, Kaelith Veyr. You'll regret humiliating me!"
Kaelith's gaze was ice. "I don't regret survival."
As the audience dispersed, whispers followed him. Nobles were outraged, others impressed. His commoner status, once a mark of scorn, now glimmered with menace. Rumors would spread — a shadow in the academy who wielded forbidden, terrifying power.
Instructor Varik descended from the stands, his robe brushing stone. He stopped before Kaelith. His eyes were unreadable. "You have potential. Dangerous potential. Control it, or it will control you."
Kaelith inclined his head slightly. "Understood."
Varik's gaze lingered. Then he turned to the departing crowd. "Class dismissed. Rest. Tomorrow, your lessons in Arcane Theory begin — and you will need every ounce of power you can summon."
Kaelith guided Lyra toward the dorms, her hand holding his arm tightly. His thoughts were already spinning. Each trial, each duel, each step through the academy was a thread in a tapestry of survival. He would not falter. He would not yield. And one day, he would reclaim all that had been stolen from him.
Above the academy, the faint pulse he had felt the night before returned — a flicker of energy in colors that did not belong to this world. He froze mid-step, sensing its gaze. The hairs on his arms bristled. It was distant, yet terrifyingly close. Watching. Waiting.
Nyxion's voice was a whisper, dark and soft:
> "Ah… so the true game begins. And I cannot wait to see how you play it."
Kaelith's jaw tightened. Whatever it was, whatever power observed from beyond, he would face it — but not yet. First, survival. Then, dominance.
The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the spires and training fields. And somewhere in the ether above Aetherion Academy, a portal shimmered, briefly revealing something massive, something that made even Kaelith's blood run cold.
He didn't look away. Survival demanded focus. But even he knew — the world was far larger and far more dangerous than he had imagined.
And he had only just begun.