The Quarterfinals were a formality.
Elian's opponent was a Level 9 Ranger who tried to kite him. Elian simply used [Edit Mode] to raise a series of stone walls, turning the open arena into a maze, then flushed the ranger out with a rolling tide of synthesized mud.
Sera's match was even shorter. She fought a Level 10 Guardian. She moved like smoke, slipping past his heavy shield and tapping the pressure points in his neck. He dropped unconscious in twelve seconds.
Now, the arena floor was being cleared for the Semifinals.
The crowd was buzzing. This was the match they wanted to see. The mysterious, gadget-wielding Builder against the lethal, beautiful Assassin of the Blood-Rose Guild.
Elian stood in the tunnel, checking his inventory. Flash-Frags: 3 remaining.Mana: 70%.Turrets: Broken.
"She's different," Elian whispered. "She doesn't rely on stats. She relies on skill. Traps won't work if she doesn't step on them."
She is a Viper, Kaelen agreed. She waits for a mistake. Do not give her one.
Easy to say when you're a voice in my head. I'm the one with the arteries.
The Semifinal Match
Fighters, enter!
Elian walked out into the sunlight. Sera was already there, spinning a pair of serrated daggers in her hands. She wore a confident, predatory smile.
"So," Sera called out as Elian approached the center. You survived the big guy. Impressive.
"I have my moments," Elian shrugged.
"Tell me," Sera lowered her voice, her eyes locking onto his. Where did a slum-rat learn to modify a dungeon's code? Or build mana-turrets?
"Night school," Elian deadpanned.
Sera laughed. "Liar. You remind me of someone. Someone I met in a tomb."
Elian's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained a mask of boredom. "I get that a lot. I have a generic face."
"We'll see." Sera settled into a combat stance. "Let's see if you bleed like him."
[Match Start!]
Sera vanished.
She didn't run; she activated [Shadow Walk]. Her body dissolved into a blur of grey mist, blending perfectly with the shadows of the stadium walls.
Elian stood alone in the center of the ring.
"Blueprint Sight," Elian whispered.
The wireframe grid appeared. But there was no heat signature. Shadow Walk masked thermal output.
She is behind you. 4 o'clock.
Elian didn't ask how Kaelen knew. He dove forward, rolling across the dirt.
SHING.
Two daggers slashed the air where his neck had been a millisecond ago.
Sera materialized, looked annoyed, and vanished again.
She's too fast, Elian gritted his teeth, scrambling to his feet. I can't hit what I can't see.
Build a detection grid.
Elian slapped his hand on the ground.
[Skill: Mana Thread][Quantity: Max]
He didn't make a tripwire. He fired hundreds of thin, invisible threads into the air, attaching them to the ground in a massive web around him.
He couldn't see her. But if she moved through the web, she would disturb the threads.
Twang.
A thread to his left vibrated.
Elian threw a Flash-Frag.
BOOM.
The grenade exploded in mid-air. Sera, caught in the blast radius, stumbled out of stealth, shielding her eyes.
"Gotcha," Elian grinned.
He lunged with the Rot-Iron Blade.
Sera recovered instantly. She parried his strike with one dagger and slashed at his ribs with the other.
Elian tried to dodge, but he wasn't fast enough. The dagger sliced through his leather armor, biting into his side.
[Damage: 45][Status: Bleeding]
Elian hissed, stumbling back.
"Is that it?" Sera taunted, circling him. "Gadgets and tricks? Show me some real skill!"
She charged. This time, she didn't hide. She unleashed a flurry of strikes—high, low, feint, thrust.
Elian was overwhelmed. He parried clumsily, sparks flying. He was a Builder. She was a trained killer.
Duck. Pivot. Sword up.
Kaelen's memories flooded his muscles. Elian's body moved on autopilot. He ducked under a lethal decapitation swing, spun on his heel, and brought his sword up in a perfect arc.
It was the Sword Saint's Parry—a move that used the enemy's momentum against them.
CLANG.
Sera's daggers were knocked wide open. She looked shocked. That was a Master-level technique.
"You..." she gasped.
Elian didn't have time to explain. He had an opening.
[Edit Mode: Reshape]
He grabbed the front of her leather armor.
Fuse.
He fused the zippers of her jacket together, tightening the leather until it constricted her arms like a straightjacket.
"What the—!" Sera struggled, her arms pinned to her torso by her own gear.
Elian swept her legs. She hit the dirt hard.
He jumped on top of her, pinning her to the ground. He raised his rusty sword to her throat.
"Yield," Elian panted, blood dripping from his side.
Sera glared up at him. She was pinned. Her armor was compromised. Her daggers were out of reach.
But she didn't yield.
"You're him," she whispered, her eyes wide. "The stance. The parry. You're the guy from the tomb."
Elian froze. The referee was running over to call the match, but he was still ten seconds away.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Elian said low.
"Don't lie!" Sera hissed. "You stole the Token! You hacked the Gate! Who are you working for? The European Alliance? The Shadow Government?"
Elian looked at her. She wasn't angry about the loss. She was desperate.
"Why do you care?" Elian asked. "You're just a mercenary."
"Because my sister is in New York!" Sera shouted, a crack in her assassin persona appearing. "The Gate was supposed to open there! If you hadn't delayed it... she would be dead."
Elian paused. The "Third Gate" event. In the original timeline, New York was wiped out. Millions died.
Sera had been trying to hack the Pillar not for loot, but to stop it?
Irony, Kaelen mused. We thought she was a thief. She was a desperate sister.
Elian leaned closer. The referee was almost there.
"I'm not with the Alliance," Elian whispered. "I'm just a guy who knows what's coming. And if you want your sister to survive the next week... you'll stop asking questions and watch my back."
Sera searched his eyes. She looked for deception. She found only a tired, heavy certainty.
"Winner!" The Referee shouted, diving in to separate them.
Elian stood up, releasing the fusion on her armor. Sera sat up, rubbing her ribs.
She looked at the crowd cheering for Elian. Then she looked at the bracket.
"Fine," she muttered, picking up her daggers. "I won't expose you. Yet."
She stood up and leaned into his ear.
"But you better win the Finals, Builder. Because the guy you're fighting? He smells like death."
Elian nodded. "I know."
The Final Intermission
Elian sat in the waiting room, chugging a Healing Potion. The cut on his side knit together, leaving an angry red scar.
[HP: 90/110][Mana: 40/250]
He was running on fumes. That fight with Sera had drained his mental stamina.
"One match left," Elian said.
He looked at the monitor. The other Semifinal had just ended.
Match 14: Acolyte (Unknown) vs. Knight Captain (Level 13)Winner: Acolyte (Forfeit)
"Forfeit?" Elian frowned.
Rewind the footage, Kaelen urged.
Elian watched the replay on the screen. The Knight Captain had charged. The Acolyte had simply raised a hand. The Knight froze mid-step, clutched his chest, vomited black bile, and collapsed. The healers rushed in. The diagnosis: "Sudden Mana Poisoning."
He didn't even touch him, Elian noted. Airborne toxin?
No. Decay Aura. He is emitting a field of necrosis. It rots mana channels.
Elian looked at his own hands. "I'm a Builder. I use mana to construct. If he rots my constructs..."
They crumble to dust.
So I can't build walls. I can't use mud. I can't use threads.
And you can't get close, or your lungs will rot.
Elian leaned back against the cold stone wall. "So, I have to fight a ranged battle against a guy who can kill me by looking at me, and I can't use my Class skills."
Correct.
Elian laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. "I need a gun."
The System has not introduced firearms yet. The Crafters haven't reinvented gunpowder.
"I don't need gunpowder," Elian said, his eyes drifting to a pile of scrap metal in the corner of the workshop. "I have Edit Mode. I can compress air. I can rifle a barrel."
He stood up. He had thirty minutes before the Final.
He grabbed a heavy iron pipe. He grabbed a handful of volatile Fire Crystals. And he grabbed the remaining Flash-Frags.
"If I can't build a fortress," Elian said, igniting his mana forge. "I'll build a cannon."
The Final Match
The sun was setting. The arena was bathed in blood-red light.
The crowd was silent. The air was heavy with dread. The Acolyte had terrified everyone in the Semifinals.
"Final Match!" The announcer's voice wavered slightly. "Elian Vance vs. The Acolyte!"
The Cultist walked out. He had shed his robes. Beneath them, his skin was translucent, revealing purple veins pulsing with corrupted mana. He smiled at Elian.
"Architect," the Cultist greeted. "Shall we end this charade?"
Elian stood twenty meters away. He held a strange contraption in his hands. It looked like a musket made of plumbing parts, wrapped in glowing copper wire and duct tape.
"You're the bomb," Elian said loudly. "Aren't you?"
The Cultist halted. "Excuse me?"
"The Void-Bomb inside you," Elian shouted, making sure his voice carried to the VIP box, though he knew they wouldn't understand the context. "You're here to blow up the Guild Masters."
The Cultist's smile vanished. "You know too much."
"I know enough." Elian raised his pipe-gun.
"You think a toy can stop me?" The Cultist spread his arms. [Skill: Field of Decay].
A wave of purple mist erupted from his body, rolling across the arena floor. The grass withered instantly. The stone cracked.
"Die," the Cultist whispered.
The mist rushed toward Elian.
Elian didn't run. He braced the weapon against his shoulder.
"It's not a toy," Elian muttered. "It's a Railgun."
He activated [Material Synthesis]. Inside the barrel, he crushed a Fire Crystal and a Wind Crystal together. [Reaction: Thermal Expansion + Compressed Air.]
He used [Edit Mode] to create rifling grooves inside the pipe instantly.
He loaded a dense, pointed Iron Slug he had synthesized from Goran's armor scraps.
"Fire in the hole."
BOOM.
The sound was deafening. It wasn't a spell. It was a sonic boom.
The projectile left the barrel at Mach 2. It tore through the purple mist, dispersing it with the sheer shockwave.
The Cultist's eyes widened. He tried to raise a mana shield. The slug punched through the shield like it was paper.
SPLAT.
It hit the Cultist in the right shoulder—spinning him around and tearing his arm clean off.
"AAAAHHH!" The Cultist screamed, clutching the stump. Black blood sprayed across the sand.
The crowd gasped. They had never seen a projectile move that fast without magic.
"Reloading," Elian announced calmly.
He slammed another crystal into the chamber.
The Cultist fell to his knees. The pain was blinding. But the rage was stronger. "You... insignificant... worm!"
The purple light in his chest began to glow brighter. The Void-Bomb. His heart rate spiked. The failsafe was triggering.
He is detonating! Kaelen yelled. You have 10 seconds before he levels the stadium!
Elian aimed the railgun again. "If I shoot him, he explodes," Elian realized. "If I leave him, he explodes."
The sky, Kaelen directed. Launch him.
Elian looked at the floor beneath the screaming Cultist. The mud from the previous match was dry, but the structure was still there.
Elian dropped the gun. He slammed both hands onto the ground.
[Class Skill: Edit Mode (Overclock)][Target: Arena Floor (Center)][Action: Catapult.]
He poured every ounce of his remaining mana into the earth.
RUMBLE.
A massive pillar of stone, ten meters wide, erupted from beneath the Cultist's feet. It shot upward with explosive force, launching the screaming man into the air.
Up. Up. Up. Fifty meters. Hundred meters.
The Cultist was a speck against the twilight sky.
"Goodbye," Elian whispered.
KA-BOOM.
A massive sphere of purple void energy detonated high above the arena. The shockwave shattered the glass in the VIP boxes. The sky turned violet for a second.
But the stadium was safe.
Debris rained down—dust and ash.
Elian stood alone in the center of the ring, his mana completely empty. He swayed.
The crowd was dead silent. They looked at the violet sky. They looked at the boy who had just turned the earth into a cannon.
Then, slowly, the clapping started. Then cheering. Then a roar.
[Winner: Elian Vance!][Tournament Champion!]
Elian fell to his knees. "I'm tired," he mumbled. "I want to go home."
Sera, watching from the tunnel, smirked. "Not yet, Architect. Now the real game begins."