In the high-tech sanctuary of the Border Control Room, the world died for three seconds.
"ERROR. ERROR. ERROR."
The red emergency lights didn't just blink; they throbbed like a dying heart. Every terminal screen dissolved into a soup of jagged code.
The hum of the massive force field generators—a sound the engineers had heard every day of their lives—suddenly cut to a terrifying, absolute silence.
On the outer catwalks, where the air usually crackled with defensive energy, the space rippled and tore. Ten silhouettes stepped through. They weren't soldiers; they were catastrophes in human form. The 10 Commanders.
Darius stood at the center, his presence so immense that the reinforced steel plating beneath him began to weep and sag. He turned a gaze of cold, lethal judgment toward Valkhyre, who was casually tossing a pulsing, crystalline device into the air.
"Why did you make them know we are here?" Darius's voice was a low-frequency rumble that shook the very foundations of the Border.
Valkhyre let out a sharp, melodic laugh that sounded like glass breaking. "Well, it's easy to enter without anyone noticing, Darius. But where is the fun in that? If they don't know we are here, they don't know how helpless they are."
Dravix stepped forward, his eyes scanning the sprawling city below. " So how does this force field work and how do they always locate our soilder?
"When they enter they trip the alarm which allows the Xenocides track them and end them .
That is how they always stop the vanguard."
Valkhyre smirked, tapping the device. "Doesn't trip off the alarm, it's basically as if nothing happens, that's how I always enter without tripping of the alarm".
A third figure, Maglas, didn't join the bickering. He adjusted his cloak, his eyes fixed on the distant Sector 5 where the tournament was been held .
"Keep your politics," Maglas whispered, his voice a distorted harmony that felt like a needle in the brain. "I have a party to attend."
He vanished. One moment he was there, and the next, there was only a cold draft.
Suddenly, the force field slammed back into place with a thunderous crack of ozone. The three-second window had closed. The catwalk was empty.
Inside the control room, an engineer fell to his knees, gasping for air. "Sir... should we report this?
The Lead Supervisor stared at the blank screens, his hands shaking so violently he had to hide them in his pockets. "No. We need to identify the problem in order not to cause panic , I pray it's just a glitch "
The Crystal Siege: Round Two
Sector 5 had been transformed into a labyrinth of steel and neon.
The voice of the commentator boomed through the stadium, amplified by a thousand speakers.
"Round Two: The Crystal Siege! The four hundred survivors will now split into teams of ten. These teams are your lifeblood. Protect your Resonance Crystal. If it shatters, your entire team is disqualified. The world is watching. Show us your worth!"
The staging area was a hive of chaos. Xenocides from various divisions were scouting for the strongest members, trying to build "Super-Teams." But the 10th Division didn't need to scout. They stood together—a jagged, unified block of misfits that everyone else was beginning to fear.
"Teams of ten," Sloane said, her eyes sharp and tactical. "Elias, me, Nyx, Kaelen, Renji, Mikasa, Cipher, Vela, Rook, and Jaxen. We stay together. No outsiders. No weak links."
"Good," Elias said. His silver eyes were calm,
Across the field, he saw the 9th Division doing the same. Kross, Kahn, and Sora and 6 members triangle around Lyra.
They weren't just a team; they were a fortress. Lyra caught Elias's gaze for a fleeting second, her jaw set in determination. This wasn't a time for blushing. It was a time for war.
The battle field exploded, of different powers and weapons,
It was a war of light and sound. From the stadium's holographic screens, the citizens saw flashes of blue lightning from Jaxen arcing across the rooftops, met by the blinding Photonic blades of rival divisions. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and scorched metal.
The 10th Division moved like a single organism. Rook tore the copper wiring from the streetlights, weaving it into a kinetic-conduction cage around their Crystal. Mikasa stood atop a rusted crane, her summoned anti-material rifle barking every few seconds, each shot shattering an enemy's cover or pinning down a squad.
The battle was intense—a relentless, grinding symphony of powers clashing. Sora's sonic waves distorted the air, creating shimmering ripples that turned the concrete into dust, while Kahn's elastic strikes came from the shadows like whip-cracks.
Every time a Crystal shattered, a massive red beam shot into the sky, signaling the end of another ten-man team. The screams from the arena grew louder with every casualty. The people weren't just watching a battle ; they were watching the birth of a new world order.
Amidst the chaos, the focus of every camera and every Captain began to shift.
Elias didn't use flashy moves. He didn't scream. He moved through the battlefield with a terrifying, rhythmic silence. When a combined squad from the 3rd and 5th Divisions tried to rush the 10th's substation, Elias simply stepped forward.
His skin rippled with obsidian scales that seemed to swallow the very light around him. A kinetic blast hit him square in the chest—a hit that would have vaporized a normal soldier—and Elias didn't even flinch. He absorbed the energy, his scales glowing with a dim, violet hue, and then he simply touched the ground.
A shockwave of pure, redirected kinetic force leveled the street, sent the attackers flying like ragdolls, and left a crater in the shape of a star.
Up in the VIP balcony, the Captains of the 1st through 9th Divisions sat in stunned silence. They weren't looking at the scoreboards anymore. They were looking at the boy in the center of the smoke.
"Look at him," the Captain of the 2nd Division whispered, his grip tightening on the railing. "He doesn't just use power. He consumes it."
Zane stood at the edge of the balcony, his arms crossed. Even he was quiet. He remembered the reports from the Gala—how Elias had taken the Trinity's ultimate attack and walked away.
"The boy who swallowed the Black Sun," Zane rumbled, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and a deep, hidden dread.
The End of the Round
As the final buzzer echoed across Sector 5, the dust began to settle. The flashes of weaponry faded, leaving behind a graveyard of shattered glass and scorched earth.
The holographic screens flickered to the final standings of the round.
QUALIFIED TEAMS: 50
Eliminated Teams: 350