Chapter 74: Arena Champions
The ruined courtyard of the Solaris Palace smelled strongly of burnt iron and gray ash. The massive iron gates were gone, torn off their hinges by the Black Mist Knights. City guards were working tirelessly in the cold night, stacking heavy stone blocks to create a barricade.
Inside the smoky walls of the War Room, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Kairos sat at the oak table. He had finally washed the dirt from his face, but he still wore his torn, dusty travel clothes. Asteria rested against his chair, the ancient silver metal looking like a dead, blackened piece of iron.
Seyana, Ignis, and Terravarous sat across from him. They stared at him in silence.
"So," Ignis finally spoke, leaning forward and crossing his arms. "You went to a ruined temple, talked to a grumpy old man, and destroyed the magical interface in your head. Did I get that right?"
"Yes," Kairos nodded calmly.
"You didn’t explode," Terravarous rumbled, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of relief and disbelief. "You absorbed the Primordial Law into your own blood. You are the system now."
Kairos raised his right hand. He didn’t close his eyes. He just had a quiet thought. The flickering orange flames of the wooden torches on the walls instantly froze mid-linger. A spilled drop of water from Ignis’ cup stopped in mid-air, halted just an inch above the wooden table.
Kairos’ dark brown irises changed. They shone with an elegant silver light. It was undeniable authority.
"I don’t lose my life force anymore," Kairos explained smoothly, his voice carrying that strange resonance. He lowered his hand, and the torch flames resumed. The drop of water splashed on the table. "The holy light from Asteria is fused with my veins. It acts as a permanent anchor for cosmic magic."
Seyana let out a heavy breath, resting her forehead in her hands. "Thank the gods. I thought I was going to lose you, Kairos."
"I am fine," Kairos promised her, offering a genuine smile. "But the power is not limitless. Without the blue screen to filter the magic, I have to rely on my own physical stamina to hold the time stop. It burns my energy acceleratedly, and my range is much smaller. I can only freeze a thirty foot bubble around my body. I cannot stop the world anymore."
"A thirty foot bubble is more than enough to cut a monster’s head off," Ignis pointed out with a tired smirk. "I will take it. At least you aren’t dying every time you draw your sword."
CRANKKK!
Suddenly, the wooden doors of the War Room clanked open. Captain Vance rushed into the room. The veteran scout did not look like a seasoned soldier right now. He looked terrified. His armor was dented, and his face was pale and slick with cold sweat.
"Princess Seyana!" Captain Vance shouted, dropping to one knee. "Forgive the intrusion! We just received the magical messages from the southern border watchtowers! They are falling!"
Seyana instantly stood up, her dark iron armor clanking. Her warm smile vanished, replaced by the cold, ruthless focus of a supreme commander. "Is it the Black Mist? Did the shadow army flank us?"
"No, Your Highness," Vance stammered, his hands shivering. "It is not the shadows. The sky in the south is not black. It is burning red. A massive horde has crossed the jagged wastelands. They are not mindless beasts made of mist. They are... demons."
Terravarous frowned deeply, standing up from his chair. "Demons? The ancient texts say they were sleeping in the underworld. For devouring Seyana, they finally made a way to wage a war."
"They are coming for Seyana, General," Vance said. "The Great Dam leaking must have weakened the floor of the world. They poured out of the southern craters. Entire villages are gone, and Your Highness... they are not just killing our people. They are eating them. They wield crude blood magic, and they breathe hellfire. They are burning the earth to ash just for fun. The demon king was making his words about war true."
The room went entirely silent. Kairos felt his stomach twitch. The Black Mist Knight at the gates had been telling the truth. Malgreth, the King of Demons, was marching. The shadows wanted to rule a dark world, but the demons just wanted to consume everything in their path.
"Standard armies cannot fight hellfire," Ignis stated, slamming his fist on the table. "The mana is too thin. Our soldiers can barely lift their steel spears, let alone cast water shields to block demon fire. Sending the regular guards to the south is just sending them to a slaughterhouse."
Seyana looked down at the map of the continent spread across the table, her amber eyes darting across the borders. She was thinking at a speed.
"Ignis is right," Seyana declared. "We cannot use standard infantry against demons. We need warriors who do not rely on atmospheric mana. We need fighters with massive internal cores. People who have spent their entire lives pushing their base physical stats to the breaking point."
King Raezon slowly walked into the War Room from the side door. He had heard the scout’s frantic shouting. The King looked older, the gray in his beard far more prominent, but his amber eyes still held a royal fire.
"You are talking about the Arena Winners," King Raezon said, looking at his daughter.
"Yes, Father," Seyana nodded. "The winners of the Colosseum battles to appoint generals of the Great Demon War. We have records of every single champion. They fight as individuals. We need to officially draft them. Right now."
King Raezon didn’t argue. He knew his daughter was right. "I will send the royal fast hawks immediately. If they push their wind horses, they can reach the capital by tomorrow morning."
****
The next morning, the sun did not shine brightly over Solaris. The sky was bruised purple, stained by the distant black mist in the east and the rising red smoke in the south.
The outer courtyard of the palace was cleared of normal soldiers. Kairos stood on the high stone steps next to Seyana, Ignis, and Terravarous. They looked down at the group of people gathering on the cobblestones.
There were only fourteen of them. But the sheer weight of their combined auras made the air in the courtyard feel heavy. These were not academy students. These were not pampered nobles. These were the apex predators of the mortal kingdoms. The Arena Champions.
Kairos studied them carefully. His base stats allowed him to clearly sense their magic. Standing near the broken gates were the famed, recovered Dracortis siblings. There were five of them, all wearing sleek, matching armor made of crimson dragon scales.
Veldra, the oldest, carried a halberd and emitted a cold aura of water magic. Next to him was Aeryth, his eyes sharp and skimming the wind. Stark stood like a literal boulder, his boots seemingly fused with the earth. Luxara held a beautiful, glowing staff of light magic, and Pyrix cracked his knuckles, tiny sparks of compressed fire popping off his fingertips.
"The Dracortis family alone could conquer a minor kingdom," Ignis muttered respectfully, looking at Pyrix. "Their internal mana cores are monsterous. Even though they got injured in the arena by Algreth, these siblings were the strongest in our continent."
Standing a few feet away from the siblings was a tall man wearing the green and silver colors of the forest kingdom. It was Daemon Sylphyros, a relative to Catherine and Soltheia. Unlike the princesses who used ice and water, Daemon was a master of destructive fire magic. He carried two curved scimitars across his back. Next to him stood Marin Valcoran, a scarred woman holding a trident, her water magic swirling around the prongs like a living serpent. Idris Avelar and Darth Clover, two legendary wind mages from the Solaris and Zephyros kingdoms, hovered a few inches off the ground, ignoring gravity. Lucy Smith, a quiet girl with dense water magic, leaned casually against a stone pillar.
They were all legends. They had all won the grand, bloody tournament of the past.
"That is nine," Terravarous counted quietly, his voice carrying a hint of confusion. "The royal decrees summoned twelve champions. Other than Luna and Velanor, who is missing?"
"He is not missing," Seyana said, looking toward the far end of the courtyard. "He just arrived."
Kairos turned his head. A lone man walked slowly through the broken stone archway of the courtyard. He didn’t wear fancy dragon scale armor or elegant royal silks. He wore simple, worn out brown leather armor that had seen years of harsh weather. A thick gray cloak was thrown over his broad shoulders. He carried a massive, wide iron broadsword wrapped in canvas bandages, resting on his right shoulder. He walked with a slight limp, dragging his left boot just a fraction of an inch against the cobblestones. His face was covered in deep wrinkles and a messy dark beard. A long, jagged scar ran across his left cheek, ruining his left eye, leaving it a milky white.
Kairos stopped breathing. It was his father.
Karl Wade Vedaryan stopped walking. He stood near the edge of the gathered champions. He didn’t look at the Dracortis siblings. He didn’t look at the Daemon Sylphyros.
Karl looked up the stone stairs, fixing his one good eye on Kairos.
Kairos’ father was general and a winner of the arena. But as Kairos looked closer, using his highly trained senses, he finally saw the truth. The old man wasn’t just standing there. He was suppressing a monstrous, terrifying aura. Deep beneath the worn leather armor, Karl’s internal core burned with a raging inferno of raw fire magic that dwarfed even Ignis’ flames.
"Dad?" Kairos whispered, his voice cracking.
Karl offered a slow, tired smile. The deep wrinkles around his eyes crinkled. He reached up and lazily scratched his messy beard.
"You have gotten a lot stronger, Kairos," Karl said. His voice was rough like Kairos remembered. But it carried an undeniable weight that commanded the attention of every single champion in the courtyard.
Ignis stared at the old man, then turned his head to look at Kairos in utter shock. "Village boy... Your father is Karl the Red? The Legendary fire magician of the Zephyros?"
Kairos just stared at the heavy, canvas wrapped broadsword resting on his father’s shoulder.
Karl Wade Vedaryan slowly lowered the iron sword, resting the tip against the cobblestones. He looked at Seyana, offering the Crown Princess a respectful bow.
"I received the King’s letter, Your Highness," Karl said, his lone eye turning deadly serious as he looked toward the southern horizon, where the red smoke was rising into the dark sky. "We prepared for the raging war with Malgreth, the bastard who was coming devouring everything along with princess Seyana."
"There are, Lord Vedaryan," Seyana nodded. "Malgreth’s horde has breached the wastelands. They breathe hellfire. Regular soldiers cannot fight them."
"Good," Karl grunted. He unwrapped the canvas from his iron broadsword, revealing a blade stained with burned blood. He cracked his neck. "I was getting tired of chopping firewood anyway."
Karl looked back up at Kairos. The old man’s gaze was filled with unspoken pride. He saw the dull silver sword on Kairos’ back. He saw the hardened, brutal muscle his son had built in the dark.
"Come on, boy," Karl commanded, a spark of dark red fire dancing across his callused fingers. "Grab your sword. Let’s go teach these ugly monsters why they should have stayed in the dirt."
Kairos gulped. He slowly reached over his shoulder and gripped the leather hilt of Asteria. He wasn’t a scared academy student anymore.
The Vanguard Generals and the Arena Champions were united. The march to southern hell had officially begun.