The sky above the Citadel of Iris was too open.
A clear blue, almost offensive, like the world was daring anyone who looked up. The floating towers of the citadel reflected the sunlight in golden hues, while thousands of eyes were fixed on a single point: the Celestial Arena — a colossal ring suspended by ancient runes, visible from anywhere in the city.
Here, ordinary disputes were not settled.
Here, the world watched history unfold.
"He's still standing…" someone murmured from the crowd.
At the center of the arena, Kairō breathed heavily.
The ground beneath his feet was cracked, as if crushed by an absurd force over and over again. His long coat was torn in multiple places, dried blood stained his arms and jaw. Still, he smiled — not a confident smile, but that crooked grin of someone who refuses to fall as long as they can stand.
Across from him, the air felt... wrong.
Space bent subtly around him.
Aethon, the Third Throne of the Multiverse.
He wasn't a monstrous creature. No giant wings or grotesque form. Aethon looked like a tall man, relaxed posture, silver hair tied back, eyes of a golden hue so intense they hurt to stare at too long.
He wore clothes far too simple for someone of his rank. No armor. No visible weapon.
And yet, every single person present — from commoner to king — felt the same thing:
If he wanted, Iris would cease to exist.
"You're persistent, kid," Aethon said, calm voice, almost amused. "Humans usually fall way before this."
Kairō spat blood onto the arena floor and cracked his neck.
"And you talk too much for someone who only wins because he was born breaking the rules of the universe."
Some hunters in the stands held their breath.
That wasn't just courage. It was verbal suicide.
Aethon laughed. Not loudly. Not mockingly. A genuine laugh, like someone truly entertained.
"Interesting." He took a step forward, and the arena trembled. "Do you know how many tried to provoke me like that?"
"No one who survived," Kairō replied. "I know."
The arena's magical narrator — an ancient entity used only in battles of this scale — echoed through the city:
> "Authorized confrontation between a Free Bearer and a Multiversal Throne. Active rules: absolute containment. External interference prohibited."
That's what made the moment so surreal.
Kairō wasn't known outside Iris. Inside the country, yes — a prodigy, an unusually efficient hunter, someone climbing ranks too fast. But here… he faced something that shouldn't even glance his way.
And yet, he was there.
"Last chance," Aethon said. "Kneel. I recognize your will. That's rare."
Kairō closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them, there was something different in his gaze. Not raw power. Not arrogance.
Resolve.
"If I kneel today," he said, "I'll never truly stand again."
The air exploded.
Kairō struck first.
Not with brute force, but with precision. His body vanished in a short displacement, reappearing to Aethon's right. A black blade materialized in his hand — not conjured with spectacle, but as if it had always been there.
"Shadow Cut — Zero Trace."
The blade passed.
Space was torn.
Aethon tilted his head by inches.
The attack missed.
"Good read," he said, then touched Kairō's chest with two fingers.
No explosion.
No light.
Just impact.
Kairō was flung backward like a projectile, breaking through three layers of the arena's barrier before crashing into the ground. The entire arena shook.
"He… survived…" someone whispered.
Kairō staggered to his feet, laughing, even coughing up blood.
"See?" he shouted. "You can miss too!"
Aethon now watched with genuine interest.
"You lost," he said. "Not because you're weak."
Kairō frowned.
"Then why?"
Aethon smiled.
"Because you trusted the wrong moment too much."
The world seemed to slow down.
Kairō felt it.
Felt it too late.
An invisible pressure wrapped his body, like giant hands squeezing every bone. He tried to react — and would have — but hesitated for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
The strike wasn't violent.
It was absolute.
Kairō was pinned to the ground, unable to move.
Silence.
The arena's entity echoed:
> "Confrontation ended. Victory: Aethon, Third Throne."
The crowd erupted in voices.
Some relieved. Others disappointed. Many shocked.
Aethon turned and walked out of the arena.
"You'll go far, human," he said without looking back. "If you survive your own world."
Kairō stayed there, staring at the sky that was too blue.
No anger. Maybe shame. But above all…
Will.
---
Hours later, Iris was still buzzing with talk of the fight.
In the Central Temple, a place where ancient laws outweighed kings, Kairō knelt — not in submission, but from exhaustion.
Before him, the King of Iris watched silently.
"You know what you're asking," the king finally said. "The Time Chamber isn't ordinary training. One hour inside equals one year out here."
Kairō lifted his gaze.
"Ten hours."
Some councilors flared.
"That's madness!" one said. "Ten years isolated!"
"I know," Kairō replied. "That's why it works."
The king stared for a long moment.
"You don't ask like a subject," he said. "You ask like someone who intends to carry Iris on his back."
He sighed.
"Permission granted."
The Time Chamber door opened.
Kairō stepped inside.
The world closed behind him.
---
Meanwhile...
Something cracked.
Not a sound. A feeling.
At Iris's border, the sky darkened in specific spots. Black fissures began to tear open like scars ripping the air. Creatures not belonging to this plane started falling, howling, tearing the ground, attacking everything that moved.
"IT'S A RUPTURE!" someone in the city shouted.
Magical sirens blared.
Hunters ran. Warriors activated seals. Mages raised barriers.
The world's laws were clear: when a Rupture completed, there was no way to close it without paying a price.
And the price was always high.
Inside the Time Chamber, Kairō trained.
One year.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
When he emerged, only ten hours had passed.
But his eyes… were no longer the same.
He took his first step outside and felt it.
The scent of blood.
The broken sky.
Chaos.
"Master Kairō!" a servant ran to him, desperate. "The city is under attack! Monsters have appeared everywhere! The king ordered a rendezvous point!"
Kairō didn't respond.
He jumped.
Not ran. Not flew.
Jumped.
Crossed entire blocks in a single leap.
Then, midair, something grabbed him.
A hand.
Squeezing his face.
The world spun.
Kairō was slammed to the ground like nothing, opening a crater.
He slowly stood.
Before him, a man smiled.
Dark clothes. Too sharp eyes. A smile that asked no permission from the world.
"Took your time, Kairō," the man said. "I thought you'd try to stop it."
Kairō clenched his teeth.
"You… — his voice low — it was you, wasn't it? The villain?"
"Not yet. This?" He spread his arms, pointing to the torn sky. "This is just the beginning. A test."
He stepped closer, stopping inches away.
"We'll meet again. I promise."
And vanished.
At that very moment, the fissures stabilized.
The Rupture was complete.
Kairō stood there, staring at the broken sky.
The world had begun to change.
And he knew:
It was all his fault too.
The first step had been taken.
The game had begun.