Chapter 300: Taking the Control (Part 1)
With the start given, absolute stillness settled over the battleground. Formations held. No one moved inside their ranks, and a single held breath seemed to press down on the white marble.
Every gaze fixed on the three at the peak—Lunari, Umbraen, Gorathim—while the arena waited for one of them to make the first move. Even small motions felt loud.
Among the lesser races, the strategy was obvious. They chose to stay low-key and prioritize survival until the top 200. Run when needed, dodge cleanly, keep out of sight, strike only at the best openings, reduce the numbers, and let the giants erase competitors for them.
Adyr waited as well. His focus rested on the Umbraen; knowing their character, he judged they were the most likely to act first.
Then something made him pause. His stance stayed loose while only his eyes tightened.
His Gaze, always active, laid a vision across his sight from 10 seconds in the future, a crisp overlay slipping into place above the present.
Oh, this is unexpected, he thought, parsing angles and timing. He held his center and counted down the rhythm he had just seen.
Exactly 10 seconds later, the movement that would surprise the entire arena began.
From within the Lunari ranks, Thalira Luna’s body turned into silver light before all watchful eyes and vanished cleanly.
An instant later, she reappeared inside the Gorathim sector, and the target she chose shocked everyone.
The rapier in Thalira’s right hand flashed with blinding brilliance as she drove for the massive opponent’s neck with surgical speed, aiming straight for Brakhtar Gorat, the Gorathim’s top genius.
"Lunari... what is the meaning of this?" Brakhtar was not as fast as his opponent, yet he was fully prepared.
He had already triggered his defensive Spark. A thin, transparent wall formed before him and caught the rapier a few centimeters from his throat; the point halted in bright suspension.
While the stands struggled to grasp why two top races had chosen to clash first, Thalira spoke without a ripple in her expression.
"There is no need to explain what is obvious." Her tone remained calm. Realizing the thrust had failed, she became blinding silver again, disappeared, and reappeared behind Brakhtar, striking for another blind angle.
Thalira was not alone. The other Lunari Practitioners had already chosen their marks and surged at the remaining Gorathim lines following their leader.
In an instant, that side of the vast platform broke open into chaos—a contest of spiritual and mental force against raw speed.
Steel rang and threw sparks. Air cracked with the sharp light of activated Spark skills, their effects painting brief, dazzling ribbons across the marble.
She is good. Adyr tracked the pattern as it formed and recognized the true intent concealed in her unexpected choice of opponent.
By striking the one opponent no one expected to engage this early and drawing the attention of the entire arena onto herself, she was using her innate talent to the fullest
Thalira’s strength rose in direct proportion to the eyes upon her. With that opening move and the entire arena watching, she would be at her peak now.
Brakhtar Gorath was not an opponent to be ignored either.
Even though Thalira seemed to hold the advantage—each rapier strike cutting a clean line and edging his massive frame toward the corner—Brakhtar endured. He met every thrust with solid guards, absorbed every feint with disciplined footwork, and kept his breath level, eyes quietly hunting for a gap.
It did not look like a fight that would end soon.
At a glance, her assault looked reckless, a relentless cascade of angles, but careful eyes caught the tells—tightness in her shoulders, weight coiled on the balls of her feet, and a readiness to slip back at any instant.
She was primed for the mind attacks everyone expected from the Gorathim, set to counter or vanish the heartbeat they came. That hair-thin caution, those fractional checks in her motion, bled a touch of edge from her offense and made each follow-up a little less effective.
"Heh. She has the arrogance to make the first move in front of me." From his line, Kharom watched with a faint curl of disdain, content to wait and measure.
Not for long. His gaze slid from the duel and locked onto his own target; a decision settled on him like a visor closing.
"While they are busying themselves over there, we finish our business here." His tone was authoritative and calm as he addressed the Practitioners arrayed behind him, giving the order to move.
The Umbraen answered at once. Their line surged without a stutter, rushing toward the far corner where the Aqualeth teams were stationed, the formation narrowing into a spearpoint as boots hammered the marble.
Kharom remained where he was. He did not intend to join the chaos yet, only to watch, hands still at ease while his underlings drove forward.
Facing that oncoming wave like armored cavalry, Maruun Aqua at the front felt his features harden. "Brothers and sisters, decide now. Flee or stay—I won’t blame anyone for their choice."
His words carried to the 14 Practitioners behind him, their blue skin lit by the sun’s hot, bright glare, gleaming like a small, still pond.
"We pull back only if you pull back. Your decision is our order."
The answer came with iron will and open resolve. No one intended to leave a friend—or a leader—behind and run.
Hearing it, a brief smile touched Maruun’s thick, fishlike lips. He raised the trident-shaped weapon in his hand, prongs catching a hard white flare. "Then let them come. Remember—our aim is not to fight, but to stay alive as long as possible. Don’t let me see your corpses lying around."
Harsh words, but a plea beneath them; he wanted every one of them to walk away with an intact body after this end.
With that short exchange, they set their wills and shifted into stance. Feet found purchase. Grips tightened. Breathing fell into rhythm. Eyes fixed on the Umbraen pressing in—an advancing dark tide shouldering across white marble.
The gap shrank to striking distance very fast.
First steel was about to ring against steel when a single, thunderous detonation split the air and shook the tiers.
The shock ran through ribs and floor alike. Umbraen and Aqualeth froze mid-stride, every gaze dragged to the source.
"Hahaha! Look, brothers—we’re not that hopeless, are we?" Maruun laughed, full and relieved, the tension unspooling from his voice.
Just ahead, behind the charging Umbraen, the place where Kharom had stood—calm, arrogant, observing—was empty.
In his stead, the flawless white marble bore a deep, long gouge; stone dust hung like pale smoke, shards skittering and clicking as they settled. The scar could only have been left by the strike that birthed the blast—a sword slash carved straight through the hard white stone.
A little farther on, the attacker hovered in plain view: Adyr.
Two black swords rested easily in his hands. Under a fitted tactical harness, unnatural, gear-like muscles worked with machine regularity.
From his back spread white, eye-catching wings that spanned meters, their slow beat pushing dusty vortices into circling halos.
He hung above the field—the one who had just cracked the stone—like a fallen angel caught in hard noon light, a figure suspended and sovereign, every eye pulled upward to the presence now owning the sky.