The Citadel gates opened at dawn.
Mist rolled across the valley floor, curling around the feet of hundreds of hunters gathered outside the arena. Some wore armor etched with runes. Others carried weapons that pulsed with elemental fury. All of them had one thing in common:
They came to prove they were the strongest.
Minwoo stood at the edge of the crowd, cloaked in black, the Nexus Blade humming at his back. His name wasn't chanted. His face wasn't recognized. But the air around him felt heavier—like the Realm itself was holding its breath.
Beside him, Kinro leaned against a stone pillar, chewing on dried meat. His eyes scanned the crowd lazily, but his presence was anything but casual.
Minwoo didn't answer. His gaze was locked on the bracket board. His entry was simple:
No title. No Realm. Just a name.
But everyone who mattered knew the truth.
Minwoo was the founder of Shadow Fang—a guild built not for glory, but for the broken. Cursed souls, rejected hunters, rogue mages. If you'd been cast out, Minwoo gave you a place.
He wasn't a hero. He was a sanctuary wrapped in steel.
And Kinro? Kinro wasn't just his second-in-command.
He was a dragon.
Not a beast. Not a pet. A sentient, ancient force wrapped in human skin. His true form could level cities. But he followed Minwoo—not out of fear, but respect.
Round One: Minwoo vs. Kael of the Iron Fangs
The arena was carved into the mountainside, surrounded by jagged cliffs and enchanted barriers. Spectators filled the stands—guild leaders, mercenaries, Sovereigns in disguise. The air buzzed with anticipation.
Kael entered first. Seven feet tall, twin axes strapped to his back, tattoos glowing with berserker runes. He cracked his neck and grinned.
Minwoo stepped into the ring. No armor. No theatrics. Just the Nexus Blade sliding free with a whisper of steel.
The announcer's voice boomed:
Kael charged instantly, axes spinning like turbines. The ground cracked beneath his feet. Spectators leaned forward, expecting blood.
Minwoo didn't move.
Not until the last second.
Then he vanished.
A blur of shadow.
He reappeared behind Kael, blade already mid-swing.
One clean strike.
Kael dropped.
Silence.
Then chaos.
The crowd erupted. Kinro didn't flinch. He just exhaled, and for a split second, the air shimmered with heat—like something ancient had stirred beneath his skin.
Aftermath
Minwoo walked off the field without looking back. He didn't celebrate. He didn't speak. But as he passed the bracket board, he noticed a new name added to the list.
No guild. No faction. Just a title.
And in the stands, a cloaked figure watched him. Not cheering. Not blinking.
Just waiting.
Kinro's voice echoed behind him.
Minwoo didn't turn.