The tiles beneath Kael's feet began to crack, glowing with veins of molten light.
His qi flared like a second sun, expanding outward in waves that shimmered with unbearable heat.
Edran stood unmoving, watching. His own qi condensed tighter, not wider — pulling inward, dense enough that the air around him seemed heavier. The contrast between them was stark: Kael a blazing inferno, Edran a mountain carved from silence.
"You want to see the difference between Mid Stage and Peak?" Kael's grin twisted into something sharper. "Then burn for me."
He stabbed the spear into the ground. The arena floor shuddered. From that single point, Flame-Feathered Phantoms burst forth — spectral birds of fire that spiraled upward before diving straight for Edran.
Their screeches pierced the air as they descended, each one trailing a comet-tail of embers.
Edran's left hand moved — slow, deliberate. His qi sank into the stone, and in answer, jagged spires erupted from the floor in a ring around him, forming a dome. The phantoms crashed against it, exploding into showers of sparks.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The barrier shook with each impact. Chips of rock fell away. Edran knew it wouldn't last — Kael's technique wasn't a simple bombardment. The last phantom didn't dive for the barrier at all; it plunged into the ground beneath it.
The explosion came from below.
Stone shattered. Heat roared upward like a geyser. The shield dome cracked and fell away, revealing Edran standing inside — hair tousled, his sleeve burned at the edge, but his eyes still cold.
The crowd went wild.
Kael didn't let up. He swept his spear in a tight circle, flames coiling around him like a tornado. Then, with a violent thrust, the vortex shot forward — Solar Piercing Gale, a Peak Stage killing move. The condensed firestorm tunneled toward Edran with a howl, melting stone as it passed.
The instructors watching from above shifted in their seats. "If that hits him directly…" one began, but stopped. Everyone knew the answer.
Edran didn't dodge.
Instead, he inhaled slowly. His qi flared — not bright, but deep. The ground beneath him darkened, the cracks filling with a dull, earthen glow. Then he stepped forward.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The Solar Piercing Gale struck.
But the mountain moved.
Edran's right hand extended in a straight punch, qi compressed so tightly it seemed to hum at the edge of hearing. Stone and earth surged upward from the ground, layering over his arm like a gauntlet.
When his fist met the storm of fire, the sound was deafening. The air rippled, fire and stone grinding against each other in a blinding clash. Sparks flew in all directions.
For a moment, they held — Kael's technique roaring against Edran's will. Then, impossibly, the flames split apart, shearing to either side. The punch drove through, shattering the vortex's heart.
Kael's eyes widened. That… shouldn't have been possible.
Edran didn't stop. His gauntleted fist carried forward, the earthen qi flowing into Silent Pulse Strike again — but this time, there was something else in it. Something heavier. Older.
The blow landed square in Kael's chest.
The impact launched him backward, his feet skidding across the scorched arena until he crashed against the far barrier. The breath was ripped from his lungs, and a spatter of blood stained the stone beside him.
The arena was silent.
Kael coughed, forcing himself to stand. His chest ached, his qi circulation disrupted. That strike… it wasn't raw strength. It was precision. It had slipped past his defensive flow entirely.
And yet, as he straightened, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're hiding something," he rasped.
Edran didn't deny it. His gaze didn't waver. "You talk too much."
The crowd erupted again, their cheers shaking the air. Some were screaming Kael's name, others Edran's. But all of them knew the truth — this was no longer a match between a Mid Stage upstart and a Peak Stage favorite.
This was a battle of equals.
And it was far from finished.