The arena shook under the weight of colliding powers.
Selphira's blades of wind whirled like storms, her crimson hair drenched with sweat, eyes blazing with rage.
"Zerathorn…!" she screamed, her voice raw, "I'll carve you down with my own hands!"
She lunged forward recklessly, forming a hurricane spear, her strongest strike yet. For a heartbeat, the air itself bent to her will.
But Zerathorn only raised one hand, dark fire swirling into a condensed spear of destructive energy.
"You think your rage makes you strong, girl? It makes you weak."
The two forces collided.
BOOOOM—!
The arena cracked apart, shockwaves blasting the stands. Selphira's storm shattered, her body thrown into the air like a ragdoll. She hit the ground hard, coughing blood, her armor fractured.
"Gh… nghh… I can… still fight…" She tried to stand, her legs trembling, but her body refused. She staggered forward one step—then collapsed to her knees, then to the ground.
Her vision blurred. Through the haze she saw Zerathorn's flaming shadow loom closer, his hand already crackling with a follow-up blast aimed straight at her broken body.
Selphira's lips trembled. Is this… where I fall…?
Before the darkness consumed her—
A wall of radiant holy light flared between her and the demon.
Aurelian stood over her, his silver armor cracked, sword blazing faintly. He said nothing. His eyes were steady, resolute, unshaken.
Selphira's last tear fell before she lost consciousness.
---
The Battlefield of Blood
The clash shifted.
With Selphira down, Aurelian alone had to stop the demon, but it was not an easy task.
The participants—bloodied, broken, coughing up red—rose once more. Their bodies screamed at them to stay down, but none did.
A warrior with half his armor shattered snarled, "If the Hero falls, the world falls."
Another, limping and pale, spat blood. "We fight… until nothing's left."
Together they surged, intercepting Zerathorn's spells.
BOOOOM—A lightning storm clashed with a wall of shields.
CRAAASH—Blades of flame were deflected by a spear that shattered upon impact.
Each strike of the demon was enough to kill, yet they met it, parrying, diverting, sacrificing their flesh for mere seconds.
And in that storm, Aurelian closed his eyes, sword glowing brighter.
"…Five minutes," he whispered. "I need five minutes… for this blade to awaken fully."
The participants roared back as though they had heard him.
"Then five minutes we'll buy!"
Their blood painted the ground, yet their voices did not falter.
---
The Demon's Wrath
Zerathorn's patience finally snapped.
His aura erupted like a volcano, and the air itself grew heavy with despair.
"You miserable insects think you can delay me?" His dark flames converged into a massive sphere, pulsing with annihilation. The ground cracked beneath it. "Then all of you shall vanish with this arena!"
The participants froze—not from fear, but from the certainty of death.
They knew this spell was beyond them. Their shields and swords would crumble like paper.
Aurelian's eyes were still closed, sword vibrating with divine resonance, not yet ready.
Selphira lay unconscious, Keira trembled as her vision blurred, and the others bled from wounds too deep to count.
This is the end.
The colossal inferno surged downward.
---
The Silent Savior
…And then nothing.
The arena went silent.
Keira's eyes flickered open. The deadly flames had not consumed them. Instead, they crackled and hissed against an unseen force, dispersing harmlessly.
Her gaze shifted—
And her heart stopped.
Someone stood before the demon.
Not the Hero. Not any of them.
An unknown man, silent, faceless, wrapped in a simple scarf and worn armor, stood with a long thin sword buried into the earth. His back was to them, his aura vast, suffocating, yet strangely calm.
He never looked at them. Not even once.
Zerathorn staggered a step back. For the first time since appearing, his composure cracked. His demonic fire flickered uncertainly.
"w..who are you ?…"
The man's aura flared—pure, blinding, scorching. Fire and light interwoven into destruction itself.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, cold, and sharp enough to cut the silence:
"Demon… step forward. Your arrogance ends here."
Zerathorn snarled, fury rising as his pride was pierced. "You dare—!?"
Their clash ignited the battlefield anew. The participants, bloodied and broken, could only stare at the mysterious figure who stood where none dared stand.
And Aurelian, still gathering the holy sword's true power, felt it in his bones—
This man was no ordinary ally.