Time passed swiftly after the battles commenced and currently, Seris stood in the ring with predatory grace, dual crimson daggers spinning lazily in her grip, the weapons' obsidian edges glinting under the arena's harsh lights.
Her white braid swayed with each step, blood-red eyes locked on her opponent—a Third Calamity human general, clad in heavy black armor etched with defensive runes, his spear long and tipped with a jagged blade that hummed with restrained power. His face was stern, scarred from countless wars, eyes calculating as he assessed her.
The barriers sealed with a low hum.
The general charged without preamble—disciplined fury in every step, spear thrusting forward in a straight, precise line aimed at her heart, Law of Strength at 90 % making the weapon feel like a battering ram.
CLANG!
Seris met him head-on, daggers crossing in a swift parry. The clash rang out like a bell across the ring, a shockwave splintering the jade floor beneath them. The force rattled her arms, but she held her ground, blood-red eyes narrowing as she sensed the raw power driving his strike.
He pushed forward, spear spinning through a rhythm of precise thrusts—high to low, fake to true—each strike testing for gaps in her defense.
Seris twirled her daggers with ease, the crimson blades leaving trails of ash as she knocked aside two incoming strikes and swung in a wide arc that made him spring backward, the drifting ash hanging in the air like smoke.
She invoked her Calamity Law.
|Law of Crimson Ash|
Reality warped in an instant.
The ring became a battlefield of ash and blood, the ground collapsing into gray dust that swirled upward in ghostly clouds.
The air grew heavy with a crimson mist that burned the eyes and stuck to skin like damp soot. With each step she took, streaks of ash followed, twisting into blood-chains that crept quietly toward the general's legs.
BOOM!
He grimaced, spear slamming down to shatter a chain, but another wrapped his ankle, pulling slightly, slowing him as the mist began to drain his essence subtly.
"Tricks," he grunted, the Law of Endurance at 80% surging through him—body hardening, runes on his armor blazing to fend off the drain.
He lunged again, spear arcing down in a savage overhead strike that shattered the ground where Seris had been moments ago.
She slipped away with a twist, daggers whirling as they sliced across his armored shoulder, biting through metal and drawing blood. Ashen Mirage Sovereign flared to life—her form splitting into three ash-born illusions, each brandishing twin blades, attacking from every side.
BOOM!
The general roared, spear sweeping in a wide arc, shattering two illusions into ash that reformed behind him, the third illusion stabbing at his back.
He twisted, spear piercing the illusion's chest—ash exploding outward—but the real Seris closed in, daggers slashing across his thigh, blood spraying as chains wrapped tighter.
He staggered, grimace deepening as his essence drained faster, armor splintering under relentless force.
He struck back—the Law of Strength surging, spear lunging with mountain-crushing power. Seris caught the blow—daggers crossing in a desperate X, arms trembling as the impact rattled her bones.
Still, she held—Ashen Mirage Sovereign illusions reforming to strike from the flanks. The general shattered another illusion—ash scattering—but the true blades found flesh, slicing deep into his side.
Blood spilled, chains tightening. He roared, sweeping his spear wildly for space, but Seris pressed on—owning the center, her daggers carving ash-blood trails that bound him tighter.
One final slash—crossing his chest in a crimson X—sent him stumbling, chains yanking him off balance. He dropped to one knee, gasping, defeated.
Seris stood over him, breath steady, ash-blood mist curling around her like a cloak.
The crowd roared at her ruthless command. She slid her daggers away, blood-red eyes cold.
Another win.
From above, a master descended—an elder with eyes like dying coals—offering discipleship. Seris accepted.
-----
After Seris, the battles kept coming, with each Originat making their presence known and securing a personal master.
Sonna entered next, gentle wings fluttering, eternal harp in hand.
Her opponent: a Third Calamity illusionist, mirrors and phantoms everywhere.
He wove deceptions—clones attacking from angles.
Sonna floated into the ring, gentle wings fluttering like soft petals in a breeze, her eternal harp cradled lovingly in her arms. Her opponent—a Third Calamity brute beastkin, towering and muscled, fists glowing with raw destructive force—roared as he charged, the ground quaking under his steps.
Sonna's fingers danced across the harp strings, notes weaving into the air like silken threads.
Calamity Law: Requiem of Serene Mirage.
The ring flooded with water-blood tides, illusions blooming into dream-prisons of eternal beauty—fields of blooming flowers under starlit skies, gentle waves lapping at shores of pearl sand, the opponent's rage melting into peaceful stillness as charm took hold.
He fought back desperately—fists shattering tides with raw force, waves crashing against Sonna and bruising her ribs, pain flaring as she winced softly.
But her harp sang on—notes weaving charm and resurrection.
Wounds healed in aquatic rebirth, flesh knitting with gentle light.
Illusions turned his own destructive force against him—mirrors of peace reflecting his rage back as lethargy.
He slowed, eyes glazing, fists dropping as he yielded, entranced in a dream of serenity.
-----
Yonna burst into the ring, sword gripped like a living storm, her aura whipping the air into a wild frenzy.
Her foe—a Third Calamity wind-affinity elf, sleek and graceful—moved with blades that danced on conjured gales howling across the platform.
He hurled tempests, razor winds tearing through the air.
Yonna's Calamity Law: Abyss Tempest Veil. The arena drowned in shifting water-blood mist laced with void darkness, her strikes hidden within abyssal storms that consumed both light and wind.
Gales ripped at her, slicing skin and drawing blood, pain sharp as steel, but she pressed on—sword a raging tempest, darkness and mist masking her every move as the abyss devoured his winds.
He faltered—blades clashing, his gales fading inside the veil.
One final thrust, and the abyss shattered his guard.
----
Thalion stepped into the ring with quiet confidence, his void quill floating at his side like a steadfast companion, glasses catching the arena lights as he adjusted them once.
His opponent—a Third Calamity strategist draped in flowing gray, arrays blooming around him like intricate webs of light, eyes sharp behind a half-mask—offered a respectful nod and a calm remark.
"A battle of minds… this will be interesting."
Arrays flared to life at once, holographic weaves of deduction and prediction stretching across the ring, unseen threads mapping Thalion's every possible move, counter-arrays ready to strike.
Thalion's Calamity Law awoke: Deductive Void Chains.
Reality shifted—blood-void chains forming from the air, binding possibilities themselves, his quill crafting flawless counters before attacks could even exist.
The strategist's first array, a predictive web, tried to catch his step with chains of light, but Thalion's quill found its weakness and shattered it mid-formation.
Grimacing, the strategist launched deduction mirrors to reflect and amplify Thalion's own attacks, but the quill's runes bound and reversed them, turning the chains back on their master.
Breaking free in a surge of mana, the strategist unveiled his last move: the Grand Deduction Seal, locking Thalion into a single fated loss.
Thalion's eyes narrowed; his quill struck, binding the seal's core logic and tearing it apart. The strategist fell to one knee as the arrays faded, conceding the match to a true master of strategy.
-----
Caelan strode in, gravity blade in hand, the air around him thick under his crushing aura as the jade platform groaned under unseen force.
His foe—a Third Calamity warrior in hulking earth-forged armor, hammer massive and shield broad—planted himself with a grin. "Gravity boy? Let's see if you can crush me."
Caelan unleashed his Calamity Law: Paradoxical Gravitational Abyss.
Space twisted instantly—gravity looping in impossible ways, crushing and repelling in chaotic waves that turned the ring into a disorienting abyss where weight and direction shifted wildly.
The warrior charged, hammer swinging with bone-rattling force.
Caelan met the blow—blade clashing, gravity reversing the hammer mid-arc to smash it into the warrior's own shield—CRACK!—armor dented, pain flashing across his face.
Recovering, the warrior shoved forward with a shield bash, earth essence surging.
Caelan twisted—gravity pulling the shield in while forcing the warrior back, throwing him off balance.
The hammer came down again in a massive overhead strike.
Caelan stepped aside—gravity dragging the hammer faster into the ground, cratering stone and nearly shattering the warrior's wrists.
He held on, grimacing, veins straining.
Caelan pressed forward—blade sweeping in heavy arcs, each strike landing with the weight of worlds.
BOOM!
The warrior blocked, his shield splintering, arms going numb.
Desperate, he called up an earth spike from below—thrusting upward.
Caelan's abyss flung it back into the warrior's own foot, pinning him with a roar.
One final pull—gravity collapsing inward.
The warrior crumpled under the crushing force, defeated.
-----
Kael moved with electric grace, lightning-blood blade shifting between dual grips, his aura crackling like a storm on the verge of breaking.
Across from him, a Third Calamity speed cultivator—lithe, blurred, daggers flashing in rapid afterimages.
|Void Born Lightning Eclipse|
Kael's Calamity Law activated.
In an instant, he became living lightning—body flickering in void-born blue-white, form phasing into pure electricity. The cultivator struck from impossible angles, daggers slicing too fast for the eye, but Kael's lightning form chained relentless strikes, void-born resilience letting dagger grazes pass harmlessly through.
The cultivator's grimace deepened—speed stretched to its limit, afterimages multiplying. Kael pressed on—blades weaving endless storms, thunder eclipsing the ring.
Sparks flew as daggers met lightning, but Kael's storm drowned speed in chained bolts. Electricity burned, speed faltered.
One final eclipse—Kael reformed, thrusting both blades.
Overwhelmed.
Victory.
The Originat had claimed their places.
Masters chosen.
The Myriad Sect buzzed.
As Eight new stars had risen.