"Who's next?"
The same question was asked again.
The atmosphere in the Stone Forest changed.
No one stepped forward confidently or loudly…
Instead, a disciple of the Hundred Curses Sect walked out slowly, as if the ground itself recognized him and avoided him.
He was thin, slightly taller than average, his skin unnaturally pale, as if blood hesitated to approach it.
Thin dark veins ran along his neck and hands, not bulging, but carved in, like traces of ancient curses that had never fully faded.
His eyes were the most disturbing.
Calm… too calm.
No excitement, no fear, no pride.
The look of someone who had lived with pain for so long that he no longer acknowledged it.
His clothes were simple and dark. Small talismans and polished bones hung from them, each engraved with a different curse symbol.
With every step he took, the air around him grew heavier, as if the Stone Forest itself was holding its breath.
Above, in front of the giant screen, the whispers faded.
Just hearing the sect's name was enough to make some people uncomfortable.
Then…
the order was given to open the cage.
The sound of metal separating was sharp and unpleasant, like a scream of protest.
The next moment, the bone lizard emerged.
A monster three meters long, its body made of interlocked bones. No flesh, no skin, only a white-gray skeleton with cracks glowing faintly with blood-red light.
Its bony tail dragged across the ground, leaving deep scratches in the stone.
Its long head rose slowly, its upper jaw slightly open, bone teeth clacking with a dry, lifeless sound.
Its eyes…
were not eyes.
Dark hollows, glowing deep inside with cold, curse-filled sparks, empty of all emotion.
As soon as it fully left the cage, the ground bent under its weight.
Its roar was not a sound, but a vibration that passed through bones before ears.
The disciple stood still.
He did not retreat.
He did not take a combat stance.
He simply raised his head slightly and looked at the bone lizard
as if it were just another step on a long road of curses.
The moment permission was given,
the bone lizard exploded into motion.
Its massive body rushed across the stone ground at a speed that did not match its skeletal form.
Its claws tore forward, its tail smashed into stone pillars, dust and fragments flying.
Its hollow eyes were empty…
but its hunger for blood was real.
The disciple did not retreat.
He did not brace himself.
When the distance shrank to only three meters,
the lizard's tongue shot out.
It was longer than its body, pale flesh covered in black veins, thrust forward like a flexible spear.
It cut through the air with a terrifying whistle, aimed directly at the disciple's chest.
The disciple moved.
A low slide, his body almost touching the stone ground.
The tongue passed over his head by a breath's width.
The cold of death brushed his skin.
Before the tongue could return to the lizard's mouth,
the disciple's hand moved.
He pulled out black papers, thin like burned skin,
engraved with unstable blood patterns that seemed to move on their own.
He did not throw them.
He pressed them on.
Guided by will, they stuck to the tongue one after another,
like parasites.
The disciple began to chant.
His voice was low…
but the words were heavy.
Suddenly—
the inside ignited.
The papers began to evaporate inside the lizard's tongue.
An invisible fire ate from within.
The blood boiled.
The lizard howled violently,
spitting thick black blood from its mouth.
Its body shook.
The color of its bones faded.
Its speed… broke.
It was still dangerous,
but no longer whole.
Continuous pressure
The disciple did not wait.
He drew more papers,
this time in greater number,
and cast a second spell.
The black papers rose around him,
floating slowly,
like dark stars circling the center of a curse.
The lizard, crazed and furious,
attacked again.
But as it approached—
the blood-red light exploded.
The papers formed
deadly cones.
They launched at once,
piercing the lizard's body from multiple angles.
Bones cracked.
Flesh tore.
Dozens of wounds opened like bloody mouths across its body.
The lizard screamed,
staggered back.
But the disciple…
did not stop.
The higher curse
He began chanting again.
This time,
even the air grew heavier.
The cones embedded in the lizard's body
began to evaporate.
Bloody smoke rose,
gathering above its head.
Then—
a massive blood-red runic circle
formed in the sky above it.
Its symbols were deeper,
older,
and far more malicious.
The disciple raised his voice for the first time:
"Blood Severing Curse… activate."
The circle ignited.
It began drawing the lizard's blood directly.
From its wounds,
from its mouth,
even from its bones.
The lizard howled in madness,
attacked in desperation,
charging with everything it had left.
The disciple did not move.
He stood still.
A cold smile
appeared on his lips.
He began forming strange seals,
his fingers bending at unnatural angles.
His chanting became closer to a funeral whisper.
The end
The runic circle collapsed.
The gathered blood
compressed.
It turned into a blood-red crescent.
It launched.
Unmatched speed.
No sound.
No hesitation.
It passed through the lizard's neck.
A moment of silence.
Then—
the head separated.
The body fell heavily after it.
Blood exploded across the stone ground,
seeping into the cracks,
as if the forest itself was drinking.
The disciple lowered his hand.
The black papers vanished.
He looked at the corpse without expression.
Then he turned calmly,
as if what happened
was nothing more than the execution of a calculated curse.
Discussions rose inside the flying palace.
Some supported it.
Some mocked it.
Some remained neutral.
But in the Stone Forest, the same question remained:
"Who's next?"
This time,
one did not step forward…
but two.
The daughters of King Oraro walked out side by side, their steps synchronized, as if moving to a rhythm only they could hear.
They were not identical, but the bond between them was clear:
the bond of shared blood, shared upbringing, and shared cruelty.
The first was slightly taller.
Her black hair was tightly tied back.
Her gaze was sharp and direct, like someone used to leading.
Her armor was light and practical, engraved with Oraro's symbol in ancient lines.
A narrow sword hung at her waist, undecorated—a weapon made to be used, not displayed.
The second was calmer.
Her hair flowed freely.
Her features were soft on the surface… but her eyes were much deeper.
Dark leather gloves covered her hands to the wrists.
Fine patterns glimmered faintly at her fingertips, hiding something used only when needed.
In the flying palace, glances were exchanged.
The Kingdom of Oraro did not send its children for show.
If they appeared, they were ready.
Then the cages opened.
Not one cage…
but two.
Two gray bears charged out with massive weight.
Huge bodies, hardened muscles, thick gray fur stained with dark patches of old blood.
Their breaths came out hot and heavy, forming light steam despite the heat.
The ground shook with every step.
Their claws gouged the stone.
Their roars echoed between the pillars as a raw, primitive threat.
One rose on its hind legs, revealing a chest full of scars.
The other circled slowly, small eyes locked on the two targets,
measuring… waiting for the strike.
The Oraro sisters did not retreat.
They did not exchange words.
The first held a calm, lethal gaze.
The second slowly moved her fingers, as if counting something unseen.
Between blood partnership and forest savagery,
the collision was coming…
inevitable.
The moment they were pushed into the Stone Forest arena,
both bears moved at once.
Two massive gray bodies, muscles tight as stone,
charged with brutal speed that did not match their size.
The ground shook beneath them.
Nearby stone pillars cracked with every roar.
This was not a test attack.
It was direct destruction.
The sisters did not retreat.
The younger moved first.
With a steady hand, she drew several small blood needles—thin, sharp.
Their patterns shifted slowly, as if breathing.
She began chanting a strange hymn, her voice low but clear.
With each phrase,
the needles rose.
They were no longer solid alone.
A thin blood-like liquid wrapped around them, dense and flexible,
stretching and contracting with their movement,
as if they were living creatures bound to her will.
At the same time,
the elder sister began her spell.
A deeper tone.
Heavier.
Her eyes never left the bears,
counting steps,
waiting for distance.
Three meters.
The moment they entered her range,
she clapped her hands.
It was not a clap.
It was an energy explosion.
Beneath the bears' feet,
a massive blood-red runic circle formed.
Its symbols ignited.
Then—
collapsed.
It turned into thick blood-like liquid,
surging upward,
engulfing the upper halves of their bodies.
Bones creaked.
Muscles tightened.
Movement… stopped.
The bears howled in madness,
tried to advance,
but the blood-like liquid wrapped around them,
binding, choking,
pressing like living shackles.
First execution
The younger sister did not hesitate.
She dashed forward,
body low,
steps light over cracked stone.
Her will controlled the needles.
They launched at once.
They tore through the air like a fine storm and
entered the first bear's head.
Its eyes exploded.
Its skull was pierced dozens of times.
Blood sprayed.
The head became a sieve of blood.
The massive body swayed,
then fell.
A heavy impact.
The ground itself groaned.
The second bear
It did not die.
It roared violently,
ripped free from the blood restraint by brute force,
and charged straight at the younger sister.
The distance was short.
Far too short.
Its hot breath hit her face.
Its claws rose—
But before she had to move…
something else happened.
From behind—
blood needles
cut through the air.
This time,
they were not from the younger sister.
They were from the elder.
Precise.
Lethal.
They entered the second bear's head from multiple angles,
piercing the skull,
driving deep inside.
The roar stopped instantly.
The body took one more step…
then collapsed.
After the kill
Silence returned.
The blood liquid slowly faded.
The needles floated for a moment,
then evaporated.
The younger sister slowed her breathing.
The elder lowered her hands.
They did not speak.
They did not need to.
Blood seeped into the cracks of the Stone Forest,
as if the place itself was recording the result.
Perfect synchronization.
Clean killing.
No hesitation.
And so everyone in the flying palace understood:
these were not merely royal heirs…
but twin weapons,
forged to survive in a world
that recognizes only the strongest.
After that, other varied battles continued in different places,
and the discussions in the flying palace kept rising and intensifying.