The clash between Lior and Rin raged across the arena floor, each strike echoing like thunder. Sparks danced through the air as blades met, the air thick with tension and roaring heat. But as the fight dragged on, Lior began to notice something strange.
Rin's movements—so swift and sharp before—were slowing down. His breathing grew heavier, his steps faltered for just a moment. Then it all clicked in Lior's mind.
Dark magic… he's using dark magic.
Piece by piece, it became clear. Rin's attacks carried a sinister pulse of energy—raw power that came at a dangerous cost. Still, neither of them backed down. The battle only grew fiercer, the blows more brutal. It wasn't just a test of strength anymore; it was a contest of willpower, of pride.
The crowd roared with excitement, though beneath the cheers, there was fear. Even the announcer trembled, his voice shaky as he continued the commentary. It looked like someone could get seriously hurt.
Lior's eyes narrowed.
He understood exactly what was happening.
Dark magic was powerful—unquestionably so—but it demanded a cruel price. It devoured energy, consuming its user the longer it stayed active. Lior knew that weakness well; he'd felt it firsthand when he fused with Night. The darkness granted unimaginable strength, but at the cost of stamina and control.
So he waited. Calmly. Patiently. Every motion Rin made only pushed him closer to his limit. Lior let his instincts take over, dodging and deflecting without wasting effort, biding his time.
Rin roared, frustration edging into his voice. "Don't just stand there!" he shouted, lunging again. His sword came down like lightning. Lior sidestepped, feeling the wind from the strike brush past his cheek.
When Rin's energy finally began to waver—his breathing ragged, his eyes flickering—Lior knew it was time.
He took a single deep breath.
Then he moved.
In one smooth motion, Lior hurled his sword straight toward Rin's head. The weapon spun through the air with a whistle, its edge glinting under the arena lights. Instinct took over—Rin reacted on pure reflex, swinging his blade to deflect it. Metal rang out.
But that was exactly what Lior wanted.
He was already there.
Rin barely had time to deflect it before Lior's fist connected squarely with his stomach. The punch landed with crushing force, knocking the breath out of him. The sound echoed across the stunned arena like a thunderclap.
For a brief second, time froze.
Then Rin collapsed to his knees, gasping. The sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. The crowd fell silent.
A heartbeat later, the announcer's voice broke through the tension.
"Winner—Lior! He has claimed the eighth spot!"
The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers. The arena trembled from the sound alone. Lior stood tall, chest heaving, the faint hum of magic still lingering around him. He looked down at Rin, who lay clutching his stomach, his expression twisted more from frustration than pain.
Rin forced a weak laugh. "Guess… I pushed too hard," he muttered between breaths.
Lior said nothing, only nodding with quiet respect. There was no hatred between them—just mutual recognition. Two warriors who'd fought with everything they had.
Rin's gaze burned with determination as he was helped off the field. Next year, he thought. Next year, I'll be back.
To his surprise, as the results were read out, his name was called again—this time among those selected to move to the capital. He blinked in disbelief, half-laughing, half-grimacing. Even in defeat, fate had opened another path for him.
When the tournament concluded, all eight qualifiers were summoned to a grand hall lined with marble columns and glowing crystal lanterns. The official in charge stepped forward, his voice echoing through the chamber.
"You will depart for the capital in three days," he said. "Prepare everything you'll need. If you plan to bring family or relatives, inform us immediately. Once you arrive, your training and duties will begin without delay."
The words carried weight. For most, this was a dream come true. For Lior, it was the next step on a path far larger than any tournament.
After the briefing, Lior returned to his apartment. The streets were quiet now, the night air cool against his skin. Every step felt heavier, his body aching from exhaustion. He'd been running nonstop since the dungeon, from battle to battle, with barely a moment's rest.
When he finally reached his room, he didn't bother undressing or even turning off the lights. He just threw himself onto his bed, the soft mattress feeling like heaven. A small smile crept onto his face.
"Finally… sleep."
But the moment his body touched the bed, the world shifted.
The air changed. The ground beneath him vanished.
He was falling.
The wind howled past his ears, his surroundings swallowed by pitch-black darkness. He didn't even have time to react before he hit solid ground with a heavy thud. The impact jarred his bones, the world spinning around him.
Groaning, Lior pushed himself up. The place was dimly lit by faint blue light seeping through cracks in the stone. The air was heavy—dense with magic. He recognized this sensation instantly.
A dungeon.
His pulse quickened. "No way…"
Before he could process what was happening, six radiant figures materialized before him, their energy shimmering like living light.
Aqua—gentle and calm as a flowing stream.Night—dark and regal, his aura cool and watchful.Solaris—burning bright like the morning sun.Terra—steady and grounded, the air around him thick with strength.Ignis—flames flickering wildly with restless energy.And Sylph—her form barely visible, carried by invisible winds.
They all stared at him silently, their presence commanding.
Lior's breath caught. He rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly. "This… this has to be a dream," he muttered, trying to steady his voice.
Lior blinked rapidly, still half-convinced he was asleep."This… this has to be a dream," he muttered, rubbing his eyes again.
Before he could blink a third time, a solid thud landed squarely on the back of his head."Ow! What was that for?!" he yelped, stumbling forward and clutching his neck.
Behind him, Night crossed his arms, his expression calm but his tone dripping with sarcasm."Still think it's a dream, genius?"
Lior turned around, glaring with a mix of pain and disbelief. "You didn't have to hit me to prove it!"
Night smirked, completely unbothered. "You weren't believing words, so I went for something more… persuasive."
Aqua sighed softly, placing a hand over her face. "Night, honestly… was that really necessary?"
Ignis snorted, barely containing his laughter. "Oh, absolutely necessary. I'd have done the same thing!"
Lior groaned, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "Yeah, sure. Real supportive team I've got here."
But the ground beneath his feet was real. The air, the warmth, the familiar magical pulse surrounding him—it was all real.
And as the six spirits drew closer, their eyes gleaming with strange intent, Lior realized the truth with a cold rush of clarity.
This wasn't a dream.