The matches dragged on, but they lacked the electrifying spark that had defined the earlier rounds.
The crowd’s fervor cooled, replaced by a restless monotony as they grew
accustomed to the predictable rhythm of violence and repetitive techniques.
High above, Archion leaned back, his cold eyes fixed on the arena.
He was no longer interested in the trivial outcomes; he was waiting for a specific
match—a litmus test for one of the key figures in the faction he was determined to build.
Finally, the referee’s voice boomed across the arena, shattering the dull silence: "Match twenty-five! Miralnia versus Gravis!"
Miralnia took the stage, her cold, ethereal beauty commanding immediate attention.
Her hair was the color of the deep blue ocean, her eyes clear sapphires, and her skin pale as mountain snow.
She moved with a fluid, haunting grace that left the students breathless.
From the opposite side, Gravis strode out.
He sported dark crimson hair and piercing, blood-red eyes.
His sharp, angular features and aura of raw dominance caused a stir of swooning
fans in the stands, many of whom began chanting his name in anticipation.
They took their places, trading silent, lethal glares that promised a brutal exchange.
"Begin!" the referee shouted.
Miralnia did not hesitate. In a blur of motion, she summoned her water element,
pulling moisture from the air to shape dozens of jagged, crystalline arrows.
She fired them toward Gravis with blistering speed. Yet, Gravis didn’t flinch.
He stood like a statue, and with a split-second flick of his wrist, he activated his signature gravity spell.
A doubled gravity field warped the air around him; the moment the arrows
entered his personal space, their momentum died instantly, and they
crashed uselessly into the dust before they could even scratch him.
Miralnia shifted tactics, weaving around him in an attempt to find a blind spot, but
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Gravis advanced with rhythmic, steady steps, ignoring her futile efforts.
His gravity field acted as an invisible, unbreakable barrier.
Realizing that standard projectiles were worthless, she poured every drop of her
remaining mana into a single, highly condensed water spear that glowed with a
lethal, shimmering light, and hurled it with everything she had at Gravis’s chest.
"Triple force," Gravis muttered, his voice cold and detached.
The spear slammed into an unseen wall of crushing pressure.
It slowed to a crawl, moving as if trapped in deep molasses, before dropping to the floor with a hollow thud.
Gravis stepped aside, barely breaking a sweat. "Concede now," he said, his tone dripping with arrogance.
"Unless you have a real trump card hidden, you’ll be crushed by my field in seconds."
Miralnia’s voice trembled with defeat. "I... I concede."
As the referee declared Gravis the winner, Archion watched from the balcony, a cold, calculating look on his face.
Miralnia, you have talent, but you don’t understand the true nature of your strength.
You’re trapped on the wrong path, wasting your potential on traditional, outdated styles.
Nearby, Ray sat in the shadows, his mind working on a completely different level.
Gravis’s gravity is promising. Useful, certainly.
I should bring him into the fold—though dealing with Noxians remains the priority.
The boy is a diamond in the rough, and I must secure him before anyone else realizes his worth.
With the day's matches concluded, the tournament would resume in two days.
Ray left the stands, heading toward the training quarters.
Along the way, he spotted Archion in a quiet, dimly lit corner with Noxians, clearly
trying to sway the boy to his cause.
Ray flashed a knowing, wicked smile and hung back in the shadows, listening intently.
He could hear Archion attempting to recruit Noxians, but the latter kept
responding with flat, cold refusals, his voice like iron.
Damn it! Archion thought, his frustration boiling over.
I have nothing on me right now to break him.
He is too stubborn. I’ll have to put this on ice until I get that item.
Archion turned on his heel and stalked toward his private room, convinced that
trying anymore today would be a waste of his breath.
Once Archion had vanished down the corridor, Ray stepped out of the shadows and approached Noxians. "
Why not serve me?" Ray asked, his voice smooth and taunting.
"With me, you’ll find the power you're clawing for. Archion can’t give you what I can."
Noxians sneered, his eyes narrow. "Serve you? And why would I bow to someone like you?"
Before Noxians could walk away, Ray cut him off with a sharp, predatory smirk—the
look of a hunter who had finally cornered his prey.
He reached out and tapped Noxians’ forehead.
A bizarre technique, raw and potent, flooded directly into Noxians' mind.
He reeled, clutching his head as a blinding, information-heavy headache tore through him, only to fade away just as quickly.
As he processed the data, his eyes went wide.
"This... this is an incredible technique! But... it’s incomplete."
If this were finished, it would be leagues above that book I’ve spent years hunting
down, Noxians thought, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The temptation was overwhelming.
Ray chuckled, dripping with malice. "You want the full version? You know the price.
Serve me, and that power is yours to command."
Noxians’ eyes glittered with a dangerous, newfound confidence and arrogance.
"How about a bet? If I beat you here, you hand over the missing piece.
If I am to serve, I will not serve a weakling."
Ray grinned coldly, his eyes turning dark. "Deal.
And if I win, you’re my servant for life, with no further questions."
They ducked into an inner chamber attached to Noxians' private training room.
The walls and floors were reinforced with heavy-duty, magical alloys designed to
withstand immense gravitational strain, setting the stage for a clash that would
seal one of their fates—either a path to ultimate power or a lifetime of absolute servitude.
As the door slammed shut, the air began to hum with the pressure of two dangerous, colliding wills.