The morning haze lingered over the arena, now scarred from the monster hunt. Blood trails marked the victories and failures of each team. Towers and wards that had contained the beasts still hummed faintly, reacting to residual mana and spilled life essence.
For most students, the first phase was the most terrifying challenge they had ever faced. Many would not return to the second.
But Cael? He strode calmly among the ruins, crimson threads sensing every heartbeat, every trick, every weakness—human or otherwise.
The Crimson Heir Appears
A ripple of movement alerted Cael before the heir even arrived.
A surge of violent aura—sharp, chaotic, deliberate. The Crimson heir stepped into the arena, accompanied by two dozen elite disciples, each marked by the blood sigils of their lineage.
"You survive the hunt," the heir said coldly. "I underestimated you. That ends now."
Cael's crimson eyes glimmered faintly. "I don't hunt children," he said calmly.
"You're a junior," the heir spat. "But your arrogance won't last. Today, you will fall before the legacy of your betrayer's blood."
The crowd of students and family observers murmured in anticipation. This was the first duel phase: a direct confrontation, and the heir had chosen him personally as target.
The Arena Tightens
The battlefield shifted. Barriers activated automatically, sealing off escape routes. Teams still alive were forced to watch. Wards detected movement, residual mana, and even instinctual intent.
The Frostveil heiress stood at a ridge, icy mist curling around her boots. She studied Cael carefully.
"You really don't care who challenges you," she murmured under her breath.
"I care," Cael said softly. "I just don't care enough to rush."
The First Clash
The Crimson heir charged. Blood threads of his own erupted violently around him—an imperfect but potent imitation of Cael's authority.
He swung his blade infused with crimson aura—fast, erratic, lethal.
Cael tilted his head slightly. Threads of his own crimson power extended subtly, not in attack, but in control of space between them.
The heir struck.
The threads intercepted.
The blade slowed as if moving through viscous liquid. The air thickened, refusing to allow acceleration beyond Cael's will.
"You think imitation equals mastery?" Cael said quietly.
The heir faltered—just a fraction—but enough for Cael to tap the pressure point of his blood flow, disrupting chakra and meridian simultaneously. The Crimson heir stumbled, struggling to regain balance, yet never fell.
The crowd gasped.
This wasn't a duel. It was a lesson.
Subtle Manipulation
Cael didn't need to destroy the heir immediately.
He manipulated the battlefield invisibly:
Team alliances began to fray as subtle disruptions in blood flow affected coordination.
The Astryn and Noctis participants, previously smug, were off-balance, their spatial and shadow techniques subtly countered by unseen crimson threads.
The Frostveil heiress observed silently, noting how his presence alone dictated the battlefield's flow.
A Relic Awakens
Suddenly, a faint hum rose from beneath the arena.
A relic buried centuries ago—its magic dormant—resonated to Cael's blood authority. A shard of crimson crystal rose slowly from the earth, glowing as if it recognized him.
The Frostveil heiress tensed.
"This relic… it responds to him," she whispered.
Cael's eyes flicked briefly to it. "Interesting," he murmured. The threads around him pulsed subtly, connecting to the shard like veins feeding it vitality.
The Crimson heir noticed immediately. "What trick is this?!" he shouted.
"No trick," Cael replied. "Recognition."
The relic began to float, orbiting Cael calmly, subtly enhancing his control. Its aura resonated with blood itself—ancient, untamed, and acknowledging only him.
The Frostveil Heiress Intervenes—Again
The heir, desperate, lunged with a forbidden blood technique, attempting to pierce both Cael and the relic simultaneously.
Before the strike connected, the Frostveil heiress released a controlled ice pillar, intercepting the attack. The shard glimmered, reflecting her mana without reacting violently.
"You're overextending," she said calmly.
Cael glanced at her briefly. "Thank you," he said.
She smirked faintly. "I told you I'd watch your back."
A Test of Patience
Cael extended his hand, not touching the heir. Crimson threads lanced outward, forcing the heir to feel his own blood flow as if it were his enemy.
Pain, confusion, hesitation.
The arena itself seemed to align with Cael. Trees bent subtly, stone shifted, monsters remaining from the first phase backed off instinctively.
"This is not even my limit," Cael said softly. "I am patient. I can wait."
The Crimson heir's fury grew, teeth gritted, aura erupting. But every step forward was subtly resisted—threads controlling space, blood, and even momentum.
The observers could not ignore the truth anymore: Cael was on an entirely different level.