The Eye That Knows, the Serpent That Endures
Dragon King had fully recovered.
The healing chambers sealed once more, their glow fading as the Endless Abyss reset itself. Cracked stone knitted together, scorched sigils dimmed, and the arena returned to a state of uneasy calm.
Sam stand from his seat.
"The final match of Round One," he announced, voice steady,
"Sea Seperant versus Ghost Eye."
A subtle shift rippled through the spectators.
This match felt… different.
Not louder.
Not flashier.
Heavier.
Both fighters turned without a word and walked toward their respective chambers, the silence between them carrying more weight than any roar.
Meera leaned closer to Sam, her gaze fixed on the distant gate where Ghost Eye had disappeared.
"That mark on his forehead," she said quietly. "What is it?"
Sam didn't look away from the arena.
"Ghost Eye belongs to the Sky race," he replied. "That mark is his third eye."
Meera frowned. "Third… eye?"
"It usually remains closed," Sam continued. "If he opens it, he can perceive the past, present, and future simultaneously."
Meera stiffened. "Then defeating him is nearly impossible. He already knows what's going to happen."
Sam shook his head.
"No power is absolute," he said calmly. "His vision has limits. He cannot see too far into the future… nor too deeply into the past."
Meera nodded slowly. "So there's a blind spot."
"There always is."
The arena gates opened.
A chill swept through the Endless Abyss.
From the eastern side stepped Ghost Eye.
He wore a black cloak that flowed without wind, fabric swallowing light rather than reflecting it. His face remained mostly hidden beneath the hood, pale skin contrasting sharply against the darkness around him.
He looked less like a warrior—
And more like a wizard.
The mark on his forehead pulsed faintly beneath the cloth, as if something behind it was listening.
His presence bent perception subtly. The arena felt quieter, as though sound itself hesitated to move around him.
Ghost Eye stopped at the center of the ring and waited.
From the western gate, the temperature dropped.
Sea Seperant entered.
In human form, he still carried the unmistakable weight of something ancient and predatory. Long blue hair flowed down his back, damp with an unseen tide. Horns curved subtly from his head, and dark markings ran across his chest and arms like scars etched by the ocean itself.
The Bakunawa bloodline.
A serpent that devoured moons.
His steps were slow, deliberate. Every movement carried patience—the kind that belonged to creatures who survived not by speed, but by endurance.
When he reached his mark, the air between them thickened.
Two beings stood facing one another.
No arrogance.
No taunts.
Just awareness.
Ghost Eye tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.
"You feel… heavy," he said softly. "Like a tide that never retreats."
Sea Seperant met his gaze calmly. "And you feel restless. Like a sky that never sleeps."
The wind stirred faintly.
Meera swallowed. "They're not even insulting each other."
Sam's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's worse."
Ghost Eye's hand twitched beneath his cloak.
"Tell me," he said, voice smooth, almost curious. "Do you believe fate can be changed?"
Sea Seperant didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he removed his glove, revealing scales faintly shimmering beneath his skin.
"I believe," he said at last, "that the ocean remembers every storm."
Ghost Eye smiled faintly beneath the hood.
"Then you already know how this ends."
Sea Seperant's lips curved into something close to a smile.
"Only if you're brave enough to look."
The sigils beneath the arena pulsed brighter.
Somewhere deep within the Endless Abyss, something ancient stirred—drawn by the convergence of foresight and inevitability.
Sam leaned forward.
This wasn't a match decided by strength.
This was a confrontation between knowledge and endurance.
Between someone who could see what was coming—
And someone who could survive it.
The bell had not yet rung.
But both warriors were already standing at the edge of destiny.
The bell rang.
The Endless Abyss did not roar.
It listened.
Ghost Eye and Sea Seperant moved at the same time.
Sea Seperant drew his blade in one smooth motion—a blue katana, its surface rippling faintly like calm water. Embedded near the hilt, a Water Stone pulsed softly, releasing thin streams of liquid energy that clung to the blade like living veins.
Without the ocean, his power was restrained.
But not absent.
He stepped forward, stance grounded, patience coiled in every movement.
Ghost Eye responded by unsheathing his weapon.
The Sky Sword emerged silently—long, pale, and unnaturally thin, its edge shimmering as if it were cutting through air rather than space. The moment it cleared its scabbard, the atmosphere shifted.
Pressure descended.
Not weight.
Perspective.
Sea Seperant struck first.
His katana swept horizontally, water trailing behind the blade in a crescent arc. The strike was clean, disciplined—meant to test, not kill.
Ghost Eye twisted aside.
The water slash carved through empty space and dissipated against the arena wall.
"Your movements are precise," Ghost Eye said calmly, stepping backward.
"But your tide is… incomplete."
Sea Seperant didn't respond.
He advanced again, faster this time. His katana flickered, releasing a series of flowing strikes—each one layered, overlapping like waves crashing in sequence.
Ghost Eye parried with the Sky Sword.
Steel never truly met.
Each clash sounded hollow, like wind cutting wind. Ghost Eye's blade redirected force rather than absorbing it, slipping between attacks with unnatural accuracy.
Water splashed across the arena floor.
But it didn't spread.
The Endless Abyss swallowed it.
Sea Seperant felt it immediately.
His connection weakened.
The Water Stone pulsed brighter, compensating—but it wasn't enough.
"You're fighting away from your domain," Ghost Eye observed quietly.
"The sea answers you reluctantly here."
Sea Seperant's eyes narrowed.
"And yet," he replied, "you still haven't finished me."
They clashed again.
This time, Ghost Eye attacked.
His Sky Sword moved in sharp, angular patterns—precise thrusts aimed at joints, pressure points, blind spots. Sea Seperant blocked most of them, but each impact sent a dull shock through his arms.
The difference was becoming clear.
Defense versus foresight.
A sudden shift.
Ghost Eye stepped back and raised his hand.
For a heartbeat—
The mark on his forehead opened.
The Third Eye.
The world slowed.
Not time—
certainty.
Sea Seperant felt it.
A sudden, crushing sensation—like being seen from every angle at once. His next move, his next breath, his next mistake—all exposed.
Ghost Eye closed the eye just as quickly.
He moved.
Sea Seperant reacted a fraction too late.
The Sky Sword slipped past his guard and struck—not deep, but precise. A clean cut across his side, disrupting the Water Stone's rhythm.
Sea Seperant staggered.
His katana trembled.
Ghost Eye pressed forward relentlessly now, attacks flowing seamlessly, every strike landing exactly where Sea Seperant would be—not where he was.
Sea Seperant roared and forced his power outward.
Water surged around his blade in a final effort, forming a spiraling current that slammed toward Ghost Eye.
Ghost Eye didn't dodge.
He stepped through it.
The Sky Sword pierced the center of the current, dispersing it instantly.
Then—
A final strike.
The blade struck Sea Seperant's chest—not brutally, not explosively—but with undeniable finality.
Sea Seperant collapsed to one knee.
His katana slipped from his grasp.
The Water Stone dimmed.
Silence fell.
Ghost Eye lowered his sword.
"I did not defeat your strength," he said calmly.
"I defeated your inevitability."
Sea Seperant looked up at him, breathing hard—but smiling faintly.
"…So the sky wins," he murmured.
Then he fell unconscious.
Sam stood.
"The winner of the final match of Round One," he announced,
"Ghost Eye."
Healing light enveloped Sea Seperant, lifting him gently from the arena.
Ghost Eye turned away without celebration, his cloak settling around him once more.
The Third Eye remained closed.
Meera exhaled slowly. "He barely used it."
Sam nodded, expression unreadable.
"That's what makes him dangerous."
Above the arena, the sigils dimmed.
Round One was over.
And now—
Only monsters remained.
The arena settled into silence.
The sigils beneath the Endless Abyss dimmed one by one, their light fading as if the dimension itself had finally relaxed. Cracks sealed. Residual energy dispersed. The battlefield returned to stillness.
Sam stood.
His presence alone drew every remaining gaze.
"Round One is complete," he announced calmly.
"The Semi-Finals of Round Two will begin in two days."
A low murmur spread through the colosseum.
"Until then," Sam continued, "you may return to your respective planets. Recover. Prepare. Use the time well."
The meaning was clear.
What came next would not allow mistakes.
Portals began to open across the Endless Abyss—silent gateways leading back to distant worlds. One by one, the generals departed. No words. No boasts. Each of them carried something different now—confidence, caution, hunger, or quiet calculation.
Ghost Eye vanished into the sky between worlds.
Zingari left without a sound.
Yaksh and Hydron were escorted carefully, still recovering.
Others returned to their domains, already planning how to survive what was coming.
Within moments, the Endless Abyss stood empty once more.
Home felt… small.
But warm.
Sam, Meera, and Ruhi arrived just before dawn. The house was quiet, untouched by war or divine pressure. For the first time since the tournament began, there was no tension pressing against the walls.
Ruhi yawned loudly.
"Papa," she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes, "who's fighting next?"
Sam smiled faintly and crouched in front of her.
"You're the one deciding that," he replied. "Make the Round Two match list."
Her eyes lit up instantly despite the exhaustion.
"Really?"
"Yes," Sam said. "But tomorrow. Today, you sleep."
Meera watched them quietly, then smiled.
They didn't talk much after that.
There was nothing urgent left to say.
That night, all three of them lay down together—no strategies, no battles, no gods watching from above. Just a family, resting before the storm returned.
Outside, the world slept peacefully.
Far away, across countless planets—
Monsters prepared.
And the tournament waited.