The tension in the capital's stadium was suffocating. The air itself seemed to tremble under the weight of anticipation. After the brutal beating Zarek suffered at the hands of the fake Kiro Vant, silence had fallen over the arena like a shroud. Even the cheers had turned cautious, every shout edged with uncertainty.
Kenneth sat in the Velmora section, his brows furrowed deeply. His eyes never left the center ring. That wasn't Kiro. He had smelled familiar—far too familiar. Kenneth's instincts screamed at him, but his thoughts were a storm. A storm that refused to settle.
Zarek still hadn't regained consciousness. Medics surrounded him, working rapidly, but Kenneth could see it. The shallow breaths, the trembling fingers—Zarek was alive, but barely. And the worst part? No one could explain how Kiro had suddenly gained vampiric blood manipulation.
But now, all attention shifted to the next fight—the clash everyone had been waiting for.
Aeron Vale versus Riven Skorn.
Velmora's number one versus Braggon Vale's undefeated titan. The crowd erupted, eager to see power incarnate clash.
Aeron stood in his dark combat gear, eyes cold, unreadable. His foresight had kept him ahead of everyone in Velmora, but this… this was Riven Skorn. The man who had held the nation's number one spot for three consecutive years. A prodigy with transformation abilities that extended to mythical beings. A man feared for his unpredictable and monstrous forms.
Riven stepped into the ring with his usual calm smile, his hands folded behind his back, posture relaxed like he had already won. The announcer barely had time to introduce them before the bell rang.
In an instant, Riven blurred—his form warping into a massive drake with emerald scales and golden horns. The sheer pressure from the transformation shook the arena.
Aeron didn't flinch.
He blinked once.
Then teleported out of the way just as Riven's tail smashed the ground where he stood, splitting the stone. A blink later and he was behind Riven, launching a flurry of powerful punches, enhanced by his superhuman strength.
But Riven turned again—this time into a six-armed ancient gladiator, towering and built like a fortress. With each arm wielding a different weapon, he parried Aeron's assault with ease.
The crowd roared.
"Insane! Riven's not even warming up!" someone screamed.
"He changed from a drake to a war deity like it was nothing!" another added.
Cassian leaned over to Kenneth. "How the hell do you fight someone who becomes legends?"
Kenneth didn't answer. His eyes were on Aeron, who, despite being outmatched in brute strength, remained undeterred. His foresight kicked in, showing him moves thirty seconds ahead, but even with that advantage, Riven's sheer unpredictability made it nearly impossible to counter with precision.
Aeron teleported again and again, each move more desperate. Riven adapted rapidly, switching forms from a monstrous centaur wielding dual blades to a banshee that screeched, disrupting Aeron's rhythm with sound waves.
Blood splashed across the stone floor as Riven finally landed a blow—a thunderous hammer strike to Aeron's ribs. The Velmora prodigy coughed violently, blood staining his lips, but he stood. Not out of pride, but principle.
The announcer shouted, "Unbelievable! Riven Skorn is dominating with transformations never before seen! And yet Aeron Vale refuses to yield!"
Kael, expressionless as always, simply stated, "Probability of Aeron sustaining five more direct hits is statistically zero."
Cassian shot him a glare. "Thanks for the optimism, genius."
But something shifted in Aeron's gaze.
Kenneth noticed it first.
"He's not done," Kenneth muttered under his breath.
With gritted teeth, Aeron steadied himself. This wasn't just about dodging. He needed to outthink someone who could be anyone.
He took a risk.
Teleporting high into the air, he baited Riven into transforming again. This time, Riven became a massive winged lion—majestic, horrifying, a beast of aerial dominance.
As expected, Riven followed.
The sky lit up as Aeron grabbed the lion's mane midair and delivered a devastating blow to the skull, forcing the transformation to waver. But Riven retaliated instantly, his paws slamming Aeron down with bone-breaking force.
They crashed back onto the arena with a thunderous impact.
Both lay still for a breath.
Then they rose.
Bloodied, battered, but burning with fire in their eyes.
"I see why they call you the prodigy of foresight," Riven said, his voice echoing unnaturally as he morphed back to human form. "But prediction can only carry you so far."
Aeron spat blood. "And transformation without discipline makes you a monster."
Riven smirked. "I'm fine being a monster… as long as I win."
They clashed again—bare fists this time. No powers, no transformations, just raw strength and combat instinct. Each blow they landed cracked ribs, shattered lips, and bruised egos. Neither backed down.
The crowd stood as one, watching legends being forged in blood.
Kenneth sat on the edge of his seat, fists clenched. "Come on, Aeron…"
Cassian could barely watch. "This is insane… They're both not human."
Even the other district leaders looked shaken.
Zenya folded her arms. "They're burning everything just to prove who's king of the hill."
Kael didn't comment, but his eyes tracked every movement like a processor calculating outcomes. Still, even he couldn't predict this.
Finally, with one last clash that cracked the floor beneath them, both Aeron and Riven fell to one knee, panting, blood dripping freely from open wounds.
Neither stood.
The silence was deafening.
Then the head judge stood. "No victor. This match ends in a draw!"
The stadium exploded into cheers, disbelief, and celebration. No one had ever forced Riven Skorn into a draw—not until Aeron Vale.
Kenneth stood slowly, whispering, "Now I see… why they both lead us."
Somewhere in the shadows of the arena stands, the imposter Kiro—no, the Firstborn Prince—watched with mild interest. His crimson eyes gleamed beneath his hood.
"Well, well," he murmured. "If that's Velmora's number one… then I might need to kill him too. But first… Kenneth."
He smiled darkly and faded into the dark, just as the medics rushed into the arena.
The war was only beginning.