The world shattered.
When Roy and the mysterious man—collided, the very heart of the arena ruptured in a blinding explosion of light and frost. The air turned white. Wind howled like a thousand banshees. A thunderous shockwave erupted outward like a dome, hurling everything—bandits, fighters, rubble—across the blood-soaked colosseum.
Aryan felt the force slam into his chest like a hammer. He flew, tumbled, rolled, barely catching his breath as the world spun sideways. When he hit the far wall of the arena, the stone cracked from the impact.
Beside him, Kat groaned, clutching his side, blood staining his shirt. Even the bandits weren't spared—dozens of them lay scattered, injured, or unconscious.
A moment of silence hung in the aftermath, thick with dust and disbelief.
And then... the smoke cleared.
Two figures stood amidst the crater.
Roy, the bandit king, now cloaked in a shimmering shell of jagged ice armor, his breath visible in the frozen air around him. His pale blue eyes narrowed, cold and focused.
Across from him, Mysterious Man. Lightning crackled across his skin like living veins. His face remained emotionless, but his aura spoke of unyielding power. He rolled his shoulder, unimpressed.
"You're not bad," Mysterious Man said, voice crackling with electricity. "But I'm not here to fight a warlord. I'm here for what you're hiding."
Roy chuckled. "You mean... this?" He tapped his own chest with a frost-covered finger. "You'll have to rip it out of me."
Mysterious man grinned, the first time his expression showed something real.
"Gladly."
Then they vanished.
To the others watching, it was as if two storms had gone to war.
Roy appeared above, encased in frost, summoning massive icicles and launching them like spears. Mysterious man shot upward, lightning wings sparking behind him as he weaved through them at blinding speed. He countered with arcs of light, each one splitting the air with a deafening crack.
BOOM.
Another impact lit up the sky. The center of the arena erupted into chaos again as debris rained down like shrapnel.
Somewhere near the southern wall…
Aryan groaned and pulled himself up. His shoulder screamed in pain, and dust clung to his bloody knuckles. The force of their clash had nearly broken his ribcage.
But there was no time.
A bandit with crimson tattoos stepped forward from the smoke, both arms ablaze. His eyes glowed orange, and fire poured from his hands like twin rivers of hell.
"You're mine!" he roared, thrusting both hands forward.
Flamethrower.
A wall of fire surged toward Aryan.
Aryan clenched his jaw. His body was aching, his strength was fading—but he had no choice. He focused his energy into his core, and thick enhanced shielding covered his arms and torso.
The fire struck.
It felt like a furnace had swallowed him whole. Flames licked through his barrier, searing his skin. The heat was unbearable. His vision blurred. His arms trembled.
"Damn it—!" Aryan pushed forward through the flame, step by step, even as his skin blistered.
The fire user grinned, overconfident. "Die already!"
Aryan's eyes narrowed.
Then he lunged.
The barrier cracked, but Aryan was already in front of him. He drove his fist into the man's jaw—BOOM—a sickening snap echoed as the bandit's head twisted violently.
The man crumpled like paper, his neck broken. Dead.
Aryan fell to one knee, panting. The flames had scorched his arms raw. His breathing was ragged.
Then—light touched his shoulder. Cool, warm, mending.
"Hold still," said a soft voice.
Selena, the healing girl, was kneeling beside him, hands glowing.
"You'll be okay," she said with a small smile, even though her hands trembled.
Aryan looked at her, surprised.
"Why?" he asked. "You should be hiding."
Selena wiped sweat from her brow. "If I hide, people die. I may not have a sword or fire... but I can still fight in my own way."
Aryan smiled faintly. "You're braver than you look."
She rolled her eyes. "You're tougher than you act."
Up above…
Roy and Mysterious man crashed into each other once more, light and frost shattering the air between them.
From the sky rained daggers of black ice, while streaks of golden lightning carved through the dark.
Below them, the battlefield continued to boil with blood, steel, and flame.
The war wasn't over.
Not even close.
Chapter End.