The arena was carved into the heart of Gravehold's Titan skeleton, ringed by broken thrones and blackened spires. Blood had soaked the sand so many times, it had turned rust-red, hard as stone.
Above it all, a horned judge sat—blind, ancient, impartial. The Arbiter of Blades.
> "Trial of Dominion," he rasped. "A right of conquest. A rite of fire."
He raised one hand. Shadows moved.
From the gathered factions, three figures stepped forward—each a chosen champion.
Ashbone's pick: Skarn the Flamebound, a brute clad in chains and fire-skin, breathing smoke through cracked teeth.
Tyrvane's pick: Va'Korr the Beastborn, a man who moved like a wolf, whose spine hissed with grafted fangs.
Varnix's pick: The Hollow Prince, a ghost made of noble blood and mirrorsteel.
Kaien whistled low. "They're not holding back."
Adexander walked into the arena.
No armor. No helm. Just a blood-wrapped blade across his back and crimson fire in his eyes.
Igris handed him a token—a small emblem of the old Crimson Empire.
> "In case you fall," he said.
> "I don't fall," Adexander replied. "I rise."
The Arbiter's hand dropped.
> "Begin."
---
Phase 1: Skarn the Flamebound
Skarn roared, flinging molten chains that struck like whips. Lava splashed. The crowd screamed.
Adexander didn't dodge.
He caught the chain with his bare hand.
Smoke hissed from his palm—but his grip held.
> "You burn," Skarn snarled.
> "I bleed better," Adexander whispered.
He yanked. Skarn stumbled.
Adexander surged forward like lightning—slammed his elbow into the brute's face—then followed with a spinning heel kick that shattered Skarn's ribs with a sonic crack.
One swing.
Bloodforge Edge.
Skarn split in half.
The flames died.
---
Phase 2: Va'Korr the Beastborn
Before Skarn's body hit the ground, Va'Korr pounced—fast, inhuman.
He moved like shadow-fur and instinct, claws slashing, mouth unhinged.
Adexander met him mid-air.
Steel clashed with fang. Claw raked armor. Blood flew.
Va'Korr whispered mid-fight.
> "You're not a king. You're a relic."
Adexander bled from the cheek, smiled faintly.
> "Relics bury the present."
He headbutted the beast. Once. Twice.
On the third strike—Crimson Burst.
The explosion blew Va'Korr across the arena.
Adexander followed—no hesitation—and plunged his blade through Va'Korr's chest.
> "Stay buried."
---
Phase 3: The Hollow Prince
The final champion floated above the ground, face pale, eyes like broken glass.
> "I am the future," he said. "Bloodless. Boundless. Eternal."
> "You talk too much," Adexander replied.
The Hollow Prince raised his hand.
Mirrors erupted from the arena floor—each reflecting a different version of the Crimson King. Each warped. Each hostile.
Adexander stood in the center. Alone.
> "Let's end this," he whispered.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed.
And unleashed the Crimson Tempest again—controlled now, refined. A cyclone of blood-red power that shattered the illusions like glass.
When the storm cleared, only one remained standing.
The Hollow Prince—coughing blood, one knee down.
Adexander walked up behind him.
> "Dominion," he said. "Is earned."
One slash.
Silence.
---
The arena fell still.
No applause.
No cheers.
Just fear.
Even the Arbiter hesitated.
Then spoke:
> "Trial passed. The Crimson Throne… recognizes its heir."
Adexander turned his back on the corpses.
The factions… knelt.
Even the angel-descendant, veiled in white light, bowed her head slightly.
Raik laughed from the stands. "Oh, hell yes. We're officially scary now."
Kaien just smirked. "Let the world burn. Our king has returned."
Igris looked up at the sky.
> "And this… was only the beginning."