I returned to the arena, brushing past a cheering crowd. The towering scoreboard in the sky shifted with golden light and projection runes. Names shuffled as victories were tallied.
Faeluxe stood on a stone ledge, eyes scanning the massive wall of flickering names. "You're still ranked in the top ten." she smirked. "Surprise, surprise." Marla cracked her knuckles beside her. "We better stay sharp. That puppet girl? Nara? She fights like a wild lightning squirrel."
Hammerhead scoffed, arms crossed. "And that guy Dimitri, with the fire-eye? That wasn't even a technique—it was torture." I looked up at the rankings. My name was etched in glowing gold:
ASH IRONFANG – Rank 1 – Divine Spirit Body – Victory x11
Underneath, dozens of familiar names rose and fell with each match: Zhenba – climbing fast. Elyahna – barely scratched by Yogrek's titan strength. Dimitri – undefeated.
Nara – chaotic but effective. and Yogrek Grimbark, who fought to retain his top 100 standing place.
Just then, another name began glowing brighter, rising rapidly. VAYLAN DUSKSPIRE – Umbral Enlightenment Path
I narrowed my eyes.
"It's his turn."
The arena had gone silent. The stone floor was barren, exposed under the noonday sun—no shadows anywhere. Vaylan Dusk Spire walked forward, all black silk robes and quiet malice. He had long silver hair, and his eyes were steel grey. In one hand, he carried his heirloom mace—a grotesque relic of the Dusk Spire Clan. A mace of six shrunken Cultivator heads, their mouths sewn shut, yet faint whispers leaked from them constantly.
His opponent—a whip-wielding prodigy of the Nimbus Cloud Sect—tightened their stance, wary of the empty lightless void Vaylan dragged behind him.
GONG!
"Umbra Shall Devour." Vaylan raised the mace. The mouths of the shriveled heads tore open, vomiting clouds of black flame ghost skulls—flaming apparitions with hollow eyes and burning teeth. They screamed as they launched toward the opponent in a swirling pattern, tracking like haunted arrows. The prodigy leapt and dodged, cracking their whip, trying to break the spectral tracking.
But Vaylan was already shaping his intent into his next technique.
"Second Seal of Umbral Enlightenment: Veil the Senses."
From his hand bloomed an inky cloud that shot out to the opponent's head—tightening like a noose and expanding into a band of inky black fog that enclosed the opponent's eyes and ears. "AAHH!—I CAN'T SEE—CAN'T HEAR—!"
Blind and deaf, the prodigy stumbled wildly. Vaylan didn't blink. He twirled the cursed mace again.
"Wail, Children of the Dusk." Five dozen more ghost skulls emitted out of the heads again as he waved the mace! The skulls shot out screaming and leaving jagged serrated flame trails, moving faster, screaming louder. The barrage struck the opponent from every side.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Flames lashed their spirit body. Smoke erupted. They dropped to one knee. The blindfold of darkness unraveled as they cried, "I YIELD!"
"Victory: Vaylan Dusk Spire of the Dusk Spire Clan."
The arena fell silent. Some in the crowd cheered. Others shuddered. Back in the Iron Fang viewing area, I tilted my head.
"He's dangerous. Not just strong—but surgical." Faeluxe nodded solemnly. "I felt cold just watching him, his flames are cursed. We Sat there watching the matches proceed throughout the day, whenever my name was called I proceeded to the following arena. Where upon I rained down simple hidden dragon palms on my foes, even holding back my cultivation level to give a few of them a fair fight.
By early evening the Prodigies were starting to thin out. I took a quick glance around the Great Arena. There was a three-blade staff prodigy whirling through wind currents, knocking out their stunned foe. In another section of the arena a beast cultivator was using an ethereal wolf spirit to run circles around a bulky hammer-wielder.
Nearby a hulking prodigy screamed "I AM THE WALL!" before being downed by a precision qi needle.
Names shuffled.
Lights flashed.
The scoreboard raced.
The final 100 solidified.
In a subterranean chamber, hidden deep beneath the Sable Mountains the surviving Black Cowl assassins knelt before another Grand Elder draped in abyssal robes, face hidden.
"The Sovereign-Slayer hosts a Blood Phage," one whispered.
He walks with the Calamity.
He has the Divine Spirit Body."
He must die before the Gate of Immortality opens to him." The Elder waved one hand, and ten more shadowy figures appeared, representing minor and mid-tier clans. Bribed by black mail. Bound by fear. Enchanted with oath scrolls.
"Spread word.
He must not complete the Path."
They bowed. A single sentence was whispered by all: "Death to the Sovereign-Slayer." Back at the Great Arena Circle as the scoreboard settled, the first phase has ended.
All 500 matches have been completed.
"The Top 100 Prodigies shall now step forward." From the many resting platforms, those who ranked rose in synchrony. Ash. Elyahna. Zhenba. Nara. Dimitri. Vaylan. Yogrek. Others—named and unnamed—stepped onto the grand stone ring, fifteen miles in diameter. Each stood alone, spaced evenly, a circle of one hundred true prodigies.
"We will now cast lots to determine the bracket for—"
The Grand Elder was cut off by a sudden low rumble. The Prodigies all looked around. A tremor. A pulse. A breath. The wind shuddered. The runes collapsed. The skies darkened. A golden dome materialized over the entire great circle arena. The Grand Elder of the Floating Lotus Palace gasped—his voice cut off mid-announcement.
FWOOOM!
He was thrown out backward as if carried away by a great unseen hand—he was caught by a group of elders as a column of ancient light erupted from the center of the arena!
Engulfing the one hundred prodigies in roaring radiance! Golden veins of light rippled outward, carving strange glyphs across the fifteen-mile circle. The terrain shifted—stone became grass, rivers snaked where none existed, trees erupted like green lightning, mountains rose.
"—What is happening?!"
"A spatial shift?!"
"This... this is a Little World!" The arena had become something alive. From the skies, a new reality bloomed. The one hundred prodigies stood scattered across an isolated island, with a central Mountain in the middle. The island was surrounded by endless misty ocean. It had a central Mountain, jungles, swamps, ruins, and divine spirit beasts—all wild. Some prodigies were already running. Others took to the trees. A few stared at the sky—realizing they were being watched.
"WE CAN'T INTERVENE!"
An Elder screamed from the viewing spire. The crowd was roaring in chaos and awe. "The Will of the Continent has chosen its own trial!"
"The Tournament is no longer ours to control."
"This is... the True Test."
Back Inside the Little World, I landed lightly on a tree branch. I could hear distant screams. Explosions echoed from miles away. Felicity pulsed in my bloodstream.
"This... isn't a game anymore, Master."
"I know," I murmured, looking out over the Horizon at the war already breaking out among the prodigies.
That's why I'm going to win it."
I looked up at the fractured sun above, blazing down like the eye of fate.