The arena was empty.
No crowd. No announcer. No bracket board.
Just Minwoo.
He stood in the center, Nexus Blade drawn, cloak fluttering in wind that didn't exist. The sky above was black—not night, not void, but something deeper.
Then the ground cracked.
A figure rose from the earth, wrapped in flame and shadow. No face. No voice. Just presence.
The final match had begun.
The Sovereign
It didn't speak.
It didn't move.
But Minwoo felt it—like gravity, like memory, like rage.
Kinro watched from the edge of the arena, his human form flickering. Scales shimmered beneath his skin. His voice was low.
Minwoo stepped forward.
The Sovereign responded.
Flames erupted. Shadows twisted. The arena warped into a battlefield of broken timelines—Minwoo saw flashes of his past, his future, and versions of himself that never existed.
One was a tyrant.
One was dead.
One was still under the table.
The Sovereign struck.
Minwoo blocked—but barely. The Nexus Blade screamed in his hands, absorbing the impact. He countered, slicing through flame, but the Sovereign reformed instantly.
Minwoo gritted his teeth.
The Break
Minwoo closed his eyes.
Shadow surged.
He vanished—reappeared behind the Sovereign, blade mid-swing.
The strike landed.
The flame flickered.
The Sovereign staggered.
Minwoo pressed forward, each blow carving through illusion, through fate, through fear.
The final strike shattered the arena.
The Sovereign collapsed.
And from the ashes, a symbol remained:
A fang wrapped in flame.
Minwoo picked it up.
It pulsed.
Kinro stepped forward. "That's not a trophy. That's a key."
Minwoo nodded.