Vaelric's back hit the mat.
Not a knockout. Not a loss.
But a fall.
And for a Thorne, that was enough.
The Arena Fell to Murmurs
The bell rang to mark the end of the round. Medbots hovered. Commentators scrambled to reinterpret their confident predictions.
But Vaelric didn't hear any of it.
He pushed himself up slowly, eyes locked on the far side of the arena.
Kairon Vex, the outsider, stood calm, still, barely bruised. Breathing hard — but steady.
Unshaken.
Unapologetic.
And then the world shifted.
The VIP Stand – Second Tier Balcony
The crowd murmured. A presence arrived.
Some stood. Some bowed.
A tall, aged man, broad-shouldered and cloaked in minimal armor, stood still at the glass edge.
His long silver-white hair caught the wind.
His eyes — bright radiant gold — swept the arena like firelight. He was no politician, no sponsor.
He was a ghost.
Damien Thorne.
Alive. Watching.
Vaelric Froze
His heart surged.
He hadn't seen the old man in two years. Not since their last meeting ended in cold silence and disappointment.
And now he stood watching this match?
Watching him fall?
No.
No.
NO.
Something cracked.
Inside Vaelric — the Switch Flipped
The heir rose.
Not calm.
Not elegant.
His jaw was clenched. Breath short. Fists shaking.
All nobility, all ceremony, all control — slipping.
He had trained for perfection. Had fought to represent a bloodline.
But Kairon had humiliated him.
And now Damien Thorne was here to witness it.
Commentators Noted the Change
"He looks… different."
"That's not Thorne-style stance. That's… street-level aggression."
"Are we seeing a shift in discipline?"
"Or are we about to witness a breakdown?"
Round 2 Begins
The bell rang.
Vaelric moved like a storm unchained.
He charged, no longer calculating.
A blur of elbows, low kicks, chest traps, and rage-fueled combinations with no rhythm, just power.
Kairon blocked. Barely.
But this wasn't a clean fight anymore.
This was domination.
Vaelric smashed through Kairon's defense, striking ribs, shoulders, thighs — softening him, breaking him down.
The crowd roared.
Not in admiration.
In awe. And fear.
They'd never seen the heir fight like this.
Kairon Struggled
His vision blurred. His guard faltered.
Two ribs cracked. A dislocated shoulder. His stance collapsed for half a second.
Vaelric didn't give him a moment.
A spinning elbow clipped Kairon's jaw — blood sprayed.
The second strike slammed his solar plexus — air gone.
The third — a reverse knee to the chin.
Kairon hit the ground.
Hard.
Damien's Face Was Unreadable
He stood watching.
Not cheering.
Not moving.
Just watching.
Instructor Rhys Whispered
To Kaien Suro, beside him in the control booth.
"If this keeps going, Vaelric won't just win."
"He'll kill the boy."
On the arena floor, Kairon bled.Above him, Vaelric stood — not as a prince of power, but as a weapon of wrath.
And for the first time since the God Killer was born...
The crowd wondered which one of them was truly the monster.