The Blackspire Arena was nothing like the underground pits I'd fought in before.
It wasn't just a place for bloodsport — it was a temple of violence, built so the strong could prove they deserved to be feared.
Rows upon rows of jagged black stone formed the stands, and the spectators were packed in tight, their voices blending into a single roar that rattled the bones. Steel grates covered the entrances, hiding the fighters until the gates lifted. The air reeked of sweat, oil, and the metallic tang of fresh blood.
I didn't come here for sport.
I came here for a name.
Ryn had told me that one of Aric's enforcers — a C-Rank combatant known only as Verrick the Mauler — fought here regularly, building his own little empire in the underworld.
If I took him down here, in front of hundreds, the message would travel fast.
Aric would hear it.
The announcer's voice boomed, magically amplified.
"Two new challengers tonight! One, the reigning champion — Verrick the Mauler! And his opponent, an unknown mercenary… calling himself Kael!"
The crowd jeered. They always jeered at unknowns.
The gate in front of me rose, chains clanking. My boots stepped onto the arena's black sand, and I felt the weight of every eye in the stadium. The arena floor was dotted with discarded weapons — spears, axes, short swords — but I already had what I needed. My own blades. My own Resonance.
Verrick emerged from the opposite side like a walking siege engine.
Two meters tall, muscles layered on muscles, arms wrapped in iron bands. His weapon wasn't a sword or an axe — it was a spiked war club, easily the size of my torso.
His grin showed broken teeth. "You're a small one."
I smiled back. "You'll still fall."
The gong rang.
Verrick moved faster than his size should've allowed — the war club came down in an overhead arc that shattered the black sand, sending chunks into the air. I'd already moved, sliding to his side, my Resonance flaring.
Soul Step.
The world slowed for half a heartbeat, my body pulling ahead of the moment. My blade bit into Verrick's side — shallow cut. Too much muscle, too much bone.
He roared, swinging wide. I ducked, feeling the air split over my head, and answered with a Resonance-infused kick to his knee. The impact jolted up my leg, but Verrick staggered.
The crowd screamed for blood.
He came again, this time low, trying to sweep my legs with the club. I jumped, twisting midair, and my blade's edge kissed his shoulder — this time, Resonance cut deeper, slicing muscle clean. Blood spattered the sand.
Verrick laughed. "Finally! A fight!"
Then he went berserk.
Every swing was a storm. The black sand exploded under his strikes, forcing me to dance, weaving between deathblows, my lungs burning with the rhythm of movement. I couldn't keep dodging forever — sooner or later, one hit would land.
So I stopped dodging.
I stepped in.
The club whistled past my ear as I slammed my palm into his chest, unleashing a shock of Soul Resonance point-blank. His body convulsed, his grin faltered, and that was my opening. My blade tore a deep red line across his ribs.
The crowd went wild. Some shouted for Verrick to kill me, others screamed my name — though most didn't know it yet, the sound of it on their tongues was fuel.
Verrick dropped to one knee, panting, blood running freely. But his eyes burned brighter.
"I like you," he said. "Too bad you're dead."
He grabbed a chain hanging from his belt and yanked. A hidden mechanism in the arena floor groaned — and four massive iron spikes shot upward around us, locking us in a square. No running. No retreat.
He raised his club in both hands, Resonance rippling along its spiked head. The ground quaked under his feet as he charged.
If I take that hit, I'm finished.
I gathered everything — every scrap of Resonance, every ounce of strength — and focused it into my blade. My heart thundered in my ears. Time seemed to stretch.
When Verrick's strike came down, I met it head-on.
The impact was an earthquake, sand exploding outward. For a moment, the noise vanished, replaced by a low, ringing hum. Then the war club split down the middle, shattered by the Resonance surge.
Verrick's eyes widened in shock — just before my blade drove into his chest.
The force lifted him off his feet and slammed him to the ground. The black sand drank his blood.
Silence fell.
Then the crowd erupted — some in outrage, some in disbelief, some in pure exhilaration.
I stood over him, breathing hard, my blade dripping. The announcer's voice was a distant echo as he declared the winner.
But my eyes were already scanning the stands.
And there — high above, in the shadowed balcony — I saw him.
Aric.
Watching.