While the crowd roared and clapped for the next match, King Ignarion did not clap.
The Dragon King sat in his throne, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his golden- red scales gleaming under the magical lights. As a Constellation Realm cultivator ,one of the few beings on the continent who had touched the true apex of power, his senses were attuned to the very fabric of reality.
And reality was screaming.
It wasn't a chill, like Empress Seraphina had felt. It was a pressure. A primal warning that bypassed his logical mind and struck directly at his dragon soul. The air in the stadium, thick with the smell of sweat and ozone, suddenly tasted like ash.
"Something is coming," Ignarion rumbled, his voice low enough that only the other rulers nearby could hear.
"Coming?" Kazar, the Catkin King, flicked an ear, leaning over the railing. "The match is over, Lizard. The only thing coming is the award ceremony."
"No," Ignarion stood up, his chair disintegrating into dust under the sudden spike of his aura. His vertical pupils dilated, locking onto the empty blue sky directly above the center of the arena. "Something is here."
Before anyone could question him, the sky broke.
There was no sound of thunder. There was no flash of lightning. One moment, the sky was clear, the next moment, it was torn open as if a giant, invisible hand had slashed the canvas of the world.
A rift exploded into existence.
It wasn't a portal of light. It was a swirling, dark nebula, a chaotic bruise of violet and absolute black that rotated with a sickening, mesmerizing beauty.
BOOM
The shockwave didn't come from an explosion; it came from pure gravity.
The protective barriers around the VIP boxes, layers of high-grade magic designed to withstand Solar Realm attacks, shattered like glass.
"Defend!" Emperor Thorn roared, drawing his broadsword, his previous nonchalance is nowhere to be seen.
But it was useless. The pressure wave slammed into the rulers of the continent with the force of a collapsing star.
The proud Human Emperors, Kael and Thorne, were knocked off their feet, sliding back against the walls. Valerius, the Vampire King, hissed as he was pinned to his seat, his wine glass exploding in his hand. Kazar, the Beast King, dug his claws into the stone floor, snarling as he struggled to keep his head up. Even Ignarion, the mighty Dragon King, was forced to one knee, his bones creaking under the weight of the atmosphere.
The entire stadium, a hundred thousand spectators, fell silent, pressed flat against their seats, unable to breathe.
Then, the descent began.
From the center of that swirling dark nebula, a figure slowly floated down.
He did not fall. He descended with the terrifying grace of a king inspecting his domain. He wore a long, midnight-black coat embroidered with golden patterns that seemed to ripple like liquid metal. His hair, black as the void above him, flowed behind him in a wind that didn't exist.
But it was his eyes that froze the blood of every ruler present.
They were golden. Not the yellow of a beast, but the burning, indifferent gold of a star.
As his boots touched the center of the arena, right where the gladiators had been fighting moments ago, the pressure vanished instantly, replaced by a suffocating silence.
Ignarion looked up, sweat beading on his forehead. He tried to summon his dragon pride, tried to roar at the intruder, but his voice died in his throat. His blood, the blood of the ancient dragons, was vibrating. It wasn't fear. It was... recognition.
God, his instincts whispered. He is the God.
To his left, Aerion, the Elf King, was staring at the arena floor. The stone tiles, which had been scorched by the battle moments ago, were cracking. But not from destruction. Vines and flowers were bursting forth from the dead rock, blooming rapidly, wrapping around the stranger's boots as if trying to hug him.
"Nature..." Aerion breathed, his hands trembling. "It's... bowing to him."
High in the shadowed alcoves, Lysandra the Witch leaned forward on her broom, her violet eyes wide. "What is he?..." she murmured, biting her lip in ravenous curiosity. "I feel an amazing attraction towards him..."
But the strongest reaction came from the center box.
Empress Seraphina had pulled herself up from the floor. Her crown was askew, her breathing ragged. She looked down at the man standing in the center of the arena, surrounded by the terrified silence of a hundred thousand people.
She should have been afraid. She should have been ordering her guards to attack.
Instead, she felt a heat rise in her chest that eclipsed the sun.
He was beautiful. It was a beauty that transcended aesthetics; it was the beauty of absolute power wrapped in human form. The charm hit her like a physical blow. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Who is he? Her mind raced. I need to know. I need to....have him.
The man in the arena looked around. He seemed confused, his golden eyes scanning the cowering masses, the kneeling Dragon King, the blushing Empress.
He opened his mouth. The world leaned in, expecting a judgment. A declaration of war. A divine law.
CLANG.
A sound rang out. It wasn't physical. It echoed deep within the souls of everyone present. It was the heavy, mournful sound of a cosmic chain snapping shut.
The golden light in the man's eyes instantly extinguished.
The terrifying aura of the Void evaporated.
The man blinked once, his expression shifting from godlike indifference to human exhaustion. His knees buckled. He swayed, reaching out as if to grab something that wasn't there, and then collapsed face-forward onto the blooming flowers that wasn't there a few seconds ago.
The pressure was gone. The "God" was asleep.
For ten seconds, no one moved. The Rulers of the Continent stared at the unconscious body, their minds reeling from the whiplash of terror and awe.
Seraphina was the first to move. The "Charm" was still burning in her veins, overriding her caution.
"Guards!" Her voice cracked, then strengthened, ringing out across the silent stadium. "Secure the arena! That man is under the protection of the Human Empire!"
"Wait!" Ignarion roared, standing up, his fear replaced by a sudden, desperate need to understand the entity that made his blood kneel. "He fell from the Sky! He belongs to no one!"
"He is HUMAN see!" Thorn barked pointing at the man, recovering his wits and sensing Seraphina's intent. He leaped from the VIP box, landing heavily in the arena, his sword drawn but pointed at the other rulers, not the fallen man. "Touch him, and it is an act of war!"
"Act of war?" King Ignarion laughed. It was a terrifying sound, like boulders grinding together deep within a volcano. "You speak of war to me, little human?"
The Dragon King stepped off the crumbling ledge of the VIP box. He did not fall; the air itself seemed to solidify under his boots to support his massive weight. As he descended into the arena, the temperature in the stadium skyrocketed. The banners fluttering on the high walls caught fire, and the iron railings began to glow a dull, angry cherry-red.
"That being," Ignarion pointed a clawed finger at the unconscious man, "radiated the aura of a Primordial. He is no mere human. He is a kin to dragons. Perhaps a lost ancestor. If you think I will let you squirrel him away in your palace to be studied like a lab rat, you are mistaken."
"He has no scales, Ignarion!" Emperor Kael shouted from the box, his hands glowing with gathered mana as he prepared a spell. "He has no wings! He is Human!, By the Treaty of the Six Races, no one have the demand to take resources belonging to other races."
"Resource?" A silky, chilling voice cut through the heat.
Valerius, the Vampire King, had not moved from his seat, but his presence seemed to darken the sunlight. He wiped wine from his pale fingers with a handkerchief, his red eyes narrowed. "You call a man who shattered the sky a 'resource'? How typical of your short-lived race. You are blind to the danger. That man... he reeks of a purity that could scour this continent clean. He should not be claimed. He should be... contained. Perhaps eliminated."
"Touch him and I'll mount your head on a pike!"
The scream didn't come from Kael or Thorne. It came from Empress Seraphina.
She had abandoned all royal decorum. Hitching up her heavy ceremonial gown, she leaped from the high balcony, using a burst of wind magic to cushion her fall. She landed beside Emperor Thorn, placing herself physically between the Dragon King and the unconscious stranger.
Her eyes were wild, her chest heaving. The logical part of her brain was screaming that she was being reckless, that she was exposing herself to a Constellation Realm dragon. But the "Charm" that the stranger had emitted was acting like a venom in her blood. The thought of Ignarion's rough, scaled hands touching the stranger's skin made her feel physically ill. She felt a possessiveness so violent it frightened her.
"He is under my personal protection," Seraphina hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and adrenaline. "If the Dragon King wishes to take him, he will have to burn me to ash first."
Ignarion paused. The flames swirling around him hesitated. To kill an Empress was to declare a total war that would last centuries. Even he had to weigh the cost.
"Oh, Kazar thinks this is getting interesting!"
A blur of motion shot across the arena. Kazar, the Catkin King, landed on top of a pile of rubble near the stranger. He crouched low, his tail twitching excitedly, his slit pupils darting between the humans and the dragon.
"The Lizard wants him for pride. The Leech wants him dead. The Humans want him for... breeding?" Kazar let out a guttural cackle, seeing the flush on Seraphina's face. "Kazar just want to know if he fights as good as he smells. That pressure earlier... it made Kazar's fur stand up. Kazar haven't felt fear like that in thousands of years."
"Silence, all of you."
The soft voice carried no anger, yet it cut through the shouting matches like a razor through silk.
Aerion, the Elf King, had quietly descended to the arena floor. He ignored the posturing kings and walked straight toward the unconscious man.
"Don't take another step, Elf!" Thorn warned, shifting his sword.
Aerion ignored him. He stopped five paces away from the body, looking down at the flowers that were still blooming aggressively from the stone. The vines were caressing the man's black coat, curling around his fingers as if trying to feed him energy.
"Can you not see?" Aerion whispered, his eyes wide with a mixture of reverence and sorrow. "The World Soul is crying out to him. He is not a weapon to be fought over. He is... damaged."
Aerion pointed to the air around the man. To the naked eye, there was nothing. But to those with high cultivation, they see and feel how the plants around the unconscious man seems to be pumping life force on to him.
The stadium fell silent again. The logic of the Elf King was undeniable. this man was heavily injured to be feeding off of life force, a brawl between Constellation and Solar Realm experts right on top of him would likely kill him.
Ignarion snorted, the smoke from his nostrils drifting over the humans.
"There is no other option, I will take him by force."
Ignarion raised his hand, gathering a ball of draconic fire that could melt the city walls.
Suddenly, a cough echoed through the arena.
It was a dry, raspy, old-man cough. But it stopped Ignarion mid-spell. It froze the blood of every ruler present.
"Now, now," a craggy voice drifted down from the sky. "You kids play so rough. Breaking the stadium, scaring the citizens... didn't your parents teach you manners?"