Chapter 11 – The Final Match
The arena had never been this silent.
Tens of thousands filled the stone stands, yet not a single voice rose above a whisper. Every banner hung motionless. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
This was it.
The final.
Kurogane Arin stood at the edge of the arena, his sword resting loosely in his hand. Elina Frostveil was to his left, shield grounded, silver hair tied back, eyes sharp and unblinking. Leon Valen stood behind them, fingers flexing slowly, his mind already several moves ahead.
Across the battlefield waited their final opponents.
Not a team—a monster of a squad.
Veterans. Champions. Fighters who had carved their names into the arena with blood and victory. Their leader stepped forward, armor scarred, aura heavy enough to press against the air itself.
"So these are the newcomers," the man said, his voice echoing. "The ones rewriting the rules."
Arin didn't answer.
He only raised his sword.
The horn sounded.
The world exploded into motion.
The enemy team attacked instantly—no testing, no hesitation. Raw force and perfect coordination slammed into the arena like a storm. The ground cracked under the first impact.
Elina moved first.
Her shield met a crushing blow, metal screaming as shockwaves rippled outward. She held her ground, boots digging into the sand, crystal on her chest blazing bright blue.
Leon shouted commands, fast and sharp.
"Left—NOW!"
"Arin, two seconds!"
"Elina, hold—don't break!"
Arin vanished.
Not with speed—but with intent.
He slipped between strikes by fractions of a second, blade flashing only when it had to. Sparks flew. The crowd finally found its voice as each near-miss drew gasps.
Then the enemy leader struck.
A direct hit.
Arin was sent skidding across the arena, carving a long line through the sand. For a heartbeat, the stands went silent again.
"Elina!" Leon shouted.
She was already moving.
Elina slammed her shield into the ground, releasing a pulse of condensed energy that shattered the enemy formation for a single moment.
That moment was enough.
Arin stood.
The air changed.
The useless ability.
The one they laughed at.
It awakened fully.
Not power.Not brute force.
Control.
The elements responded—not violently, but precisely. Wind curved. Heat bent away from allies. The ground hardened exactly where Arin stepped.
He walked forward.
Each step sent pressure rolling through the arena.
The enemy team attacked together, desperation replacing confidence.
Too late.
Arin raised his sword—not high, not dramatic.
Just enough.
One clean motion.
The battlefield froze.
Then—
The enemy weapons shattered.
Not exploded.Not burned.
They simply… ceased to function.
The leader dropped to one knee, breath torn from his lungs, eyes wide with disbelief.
"What… are you?" he whispered.
Arin looked down at him, calm, steady.
"Someone you were never meant to face."
The referee hesitated—then slammed his staff into the ground.
"VICTORY!"
The arena erupted.
Noise crashed down like a tidal wave. Cheers. Shouts. A name spreading from mouth to mouth like fire.
Kurogane Arin.
Elina lowered her shield, breathing hard but smiling faintly.Leon laughed once, sharp and disbelieving.
"We did it, tesó," he said quietly.
Arin looked around the arena.
This place that was meant to break him.This world that cast him out.
And now—
It watched him stand at the top.
The tournament was over.
But this…
This was only the beginning of the legend.