Draven stopped suddenly.
The air seemed to shift around him.
"…What the hell am I doing?" he muttered under his breath, crimson eyes narrowing, glowing faintly in the dim light.
For a heartbeat, all motion on the battlefield felt muted.
He lifted his hand slightly, voice low and calm—but carrying an unshakable authority.
"…Get lost."
The words weren't a threat. Not exactly.
They were a command.
The lizardman froze.
Crimson eyes met sharp, calculating ones.
For a moment, neither moved.
The air thickened. Mana pulsed faintly around Lucien's sister, unrestricted now, crackling along her aura.
Seryna's eyes narrowed, scanning. Calm. Assessing.
The lizardman's posture shifted subtly, muscles tensing. He wanted to engage. He had always wanted to.
But he didn't. Not now.
He saw the strength beside the one holding the token. Strength amplified. Mana unrestricted.
Seryna had lifted the limit.
And suddenly, it wasn't worth the risk.
The lizardman's glare lingered—sharp, resentful, measuring—but he stepped back.
Slowly. Cautiously.
Acknowledging, perhaps for the first time, that this fight—this challenge—wasn't his to take. Not yet.
Draven's crimson eyes didn't waver. Command issued. Obedience observed. Silence reclaimed.
The battlefield resumed its chaos, but something fundamental had shifted.
Everyone could feel it.
The hunter wasn't hunting anymore. For now.
The lizardman's eyes lingered on the token, now clutched by Kaelira, and then on the one who had commanded him to retreat.
He didn't move. Not out of fear.
Calculation. Patience. Watching. Waiting.
Kaelira's hands tightened around the token. Her breathing was sharp, controlled, but her glare didn't waver.
"…You… you bastard," she spat, voice low and venomous, glancing at Draven. "Why are you giving it to me? You want me to be bait?"
Draven didn't reply. He didn't need to.
He simply stepped forward. Chains clicked faintly with each movement, metallic whispers amidst the chaos.
The lizardman shifted slightly, muscles coiled, but didn't advance.
He had made his choice. For now.
Kaelira's eyes flicked to Lucien's sister, who had stepped aside, her aura still glowing with unrestricted mana.
"…You've done it," Kaelira muttered under her breath. "…You've forced him to step back."
Seryna exhaled, a faint smile brushing her lips. "…It's only temporary," she said calmly. "…But enough for us to regroup."
Behind them, Lucien's sister observed silently, eyes tracking the lizardman's every twitch, every subtle shift.
"…He's not gone," she murmured. "…Just… waiting."
The battlefield hummed again with tension, but now the focus had shifted.
All eyes were on Kaelira and the token.
And on Draven.
Because the next move wasn't about survival anymore.
It was about **provocation**.
And someone—no one knew who—would strike first.
The tension didn't break. It shifted.
Kaelira's grip tightened around the token, her tail flicking once, sharp and irritated.
"…At least now," she muttered, voice low but steady, "…I've got one."
She glanced at the faint glow pulsing in her hands.
"…Five minutes," she continued, "…five minutes and I get my mana back."
Her eyes lifted, locking briefly on the lizardman in the distance.
"…Then when that damn lizard comes back…"
A faint, dangerous smirk tugged at her lips.
"…I won't be the one running."
Somewhere beyond the shifting bodies and scattered fights, a figure watched.
Still. Hidden in the fractures of shadow between broken stone and fallen bodies.
Not moving. Not interfering.
Just… watching. Observing Draven. Observing the token. Observing *everything.*
The battlefield churned on.
No more tokens fell from above.
But that didn't stop the fighting.
Because now, the tokens already claimed were worth more than anything.
People hunted each other. Some charged recklessly. Others stalked patiently.
And the ground was no longer just stone.
It was red.
Bodies lay scattered. Some still. Some twitching. Limbs broken.
The air carried the scent of blood and heat.
Time passed. Slow. Heavy.
Every second stretched. Every breath mattered.
Kaelira didn't move much. She didn't need to. She stayed close. Watched. Waited.
The glow in her hands pulsed faster.
Faster.
**0:07**
Her muscles tensed.
**0:03**
Her eyes sharpened.
**0:01**
The glow flared.
Then—it vanished.
A pulse surged through her body.
Sharp. Violent.
Her mana returned.
Not slowly. Not gently.
It *flooded* back in.
Kaelira inhaled sharply, then exhaled.
A grin spread across her face.
"…There it is."
Energy crackled faintly along her limbs. Her posture shifted instantly. Sharper. Stronger. Alive.
Seryna's eyes flicked to her, calm but approving. "…Good. Stay controlled."
Lucien swallowed slightly, feeling the shift in pressure. "…She's… way stronger now…"
Even Tharic beside Seryna stiffened slightly.
Because now—they had power again.
And that changed everything.
Kaelira flexed her fingers slowly. Mana coursed through her veins again. Wild. Free.
Her tail flicked once as she exhaled, shoulders loosening, body adjusting instantly to the surge of power.
"…Finally," she muttered under her breath.
The token in her hand dimmed. Its glow gone. Its purpose fulfilled.
She stared at it for half a second longer.
Then scoffed. "…Useless now."
With a casual flick of her wrist, she tossed it aside.
It clattered against the ground. Forgotten.
No one rushed for it. No one cared.
Because now—it had no value.
Silence didn't fall, but something close to it did. A strange lull, as if the battlefield itself was waiting.
Then—the voice returned.
Calm. Measured. Almost… pleased.
"…You have done well."
A pause. "…Better than expected."
The words spread across the field. Every participant heard them. Every movement slowed—just slightly.
"…However…"
That word again. "…your current numbers are still… excessive."
A ripple passed through the survivors. Tension tightened. Instincts rising.
"…So we will adjust the conditions."
No one spoke. No one interrupted.
Because they already knew—nothing good ever followed that tone.
"…For the next five minutes…"
A pause. "…any participant who kills ten others…"
The air stilled. "…will have their mana restriction lifted."
Silence. Then—it shattered.
"…Ten?!" "…That's insane—!" "…They want a massacre—!"
Because this wasn't strategy anymore. This was a **culling.**
Seryna's eyes narrowed slightly. "…They're accelerating it."
Tharic swallowed hard. "…Five minutes… ten kills…"
Lucien's fists clenched. "…That's not survival anymore…"
"No," Seryna said calmly. "…It's selection."
Kaelira's grin widened slightly. Dangerous. Sharp. "…Ten, huh…"
She rolled her shoulders once, mana flickering faintly around her limbs. "…That's not so bad."