Veil of Aether

Zeus paused, staring at the two powerful combatants as they were hurled viciously within the enclosed structure of sound. Shields rebounded them endlessly, the force rattling their bones and tearing at their balance. From the way Ares and Hercules flailed, they were anything but comfortable.

"That’s… creative?" Zeus remarked, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"Hm…" His gaze lingered on the shimmering barriers. Those shields… they look just like Kei’s Resonant Shield skill. Could this guy also use it? The thought stirred something heavy in his chest. Back then, he had withheld deeper knowledge, believing Kei wasn’t ready. A shame—but if this masked fighter could carry on that legacy, maybe Zeus could forgive himself, just a little.

"Aren’t you supposed to be preparing something?" Kei M cut in suddenly, not taking his eyes off the spectacle.

Zeus blinked, realizing he had been staring too long. "Oh, right. I just got caught up watching those shields of yours." He scratched the back of his head, sparks of lightning flickering across his fingers before he resumed gathering power.

Kei M didn’t respond. He simply turned his attention back to his opponents.

Unlike the Amunar side, the Greek participants didn’t have the luxury to laugh or analyze. Ares and Hercules were being tossed mercilessly, their bodies rattled and senses scrambled. It didn’t matter that the one responsible was a Recruit Class—pain was pain, and humiliation burned even hotter.

Hercules let out a roar that shook the arena, raw force erupting outward as he shattered a section of the sound construct. Ares seized the chance, his axes flashing as he ricocheted straight toward Kei M. The edge of his blade came within an inch of Kei M’s mask—only for him to be slammed back into the freshly restored “bouncy house,” shields snapping into place like a cruel joke.

Kei M chuckled softly at the sight.

Humiliated, Ares’s aura flared violently, crimson energy condensing around his frame. His body swelled, his power magnified, and his perception sharpened to a terrifying edge. This time, he saw through the blur of impacts, slamming a foot down and breaking the construct apart entirely. Before the shards of sound faded, he blurred forward, appearing where Kei M had just stood.

In that instant, Ares was suddenly there. His charge blurred so fast it was as if Kei M had vanished from where he stood—only for the truth to be revealed a heartbeat later. Ares had struck him cleanly, driving Kei M across the arena and into the barrier with bone-shaking force.

The impact was so violent that Kei M’s body seemed to remain plastered against the shield, his form flattened against the shimmering surface. Then, a moment later, the air finally caught up—the delayed sonic booms from Ares’s explosive movement erupting in a chain of thunderous bursts that rippled through the arena.

Kei M exhaled raggedly, blood seeping through the cracks of his mask as he muttered, voice low and chuckling, "I’ve always had a bad habit of going too far and pissing you off too much."

"Shit—are you okay?" Zeus shouted, his voice sharp with concern as he looked at his battered teammate.

Hercules didn’t remain idle. As Zeus gathered power, the giant clenched his fist, warping the battlefield itself with his Strength Force. Gravity bent at his command, dragging Zeus off his footing and pulling him toward him like a predator reeling in prey.

Zeus grimaced, forced to halt his preparations and meet Hercules head-on. Lightning clashed against raw might as the two blurred around the field, fists, thunder, and force colliding in brutal cadence.

It wasn’t that Zeus was struggling—he could match Hercules—but the man’s relentless assault denied him any freedom to help Kei M. With a roar, Hercules summoned a heavy club draped in a lion’s mane, the weapon glowing with primal ferocity. Behind him, the spectral visage of a lion materialized and let out a soul-rattling roar. The sound stunned Zeus just long enough for Hercules to strike, hammering him into the ground. The impact carved a crater into the arena floor, blood bursting from Zeus’s lips.

Hercules didn’t relent. He followed with a vicious kick, launching Zeus skyward like a missile. The instant Zeus was airborne, Ares saw his chance. He leapt to meet him, axe raised high, intent on cleaving the Crown Prince in two.

As the shadow of death loomed, Zeus’s thoughts weren’t on himself but on his teammate—the masked fighter below who reminded him so much of his younger brother. Was he alive? Was he suffering? The question gnawed at Zeus’s heart as Ares’s contemptuous voice reached him.

"We’ve long been tired of you," Ares snarled. "It’s finally time to take your life."

In that instant, something deep within Zeus snapped. If his status screen had been visible, one would have seen his Will and Charisma stats ignite with electricity. At first, the sparks were faint—then they roared alive, surging uncontrollably.

Zeus’s usual airheaded grin vanished. His expression hardened, his eyes blazing bright blue as arcs of lightning danced wildly across his body.

"Take my life?" Zeus said, his voice thundering like a storm as he turned his gaze upon Ares. Sparks cracked violently from his words. "By whose authority do you declare such a thing?"

A blinding flash erupted, so intense that even some of the greatest powers in the crowd were forced to shield their eyes. When sight returned, the scene had changed.

Zeus stood tall, lightning tearing across his frame, his gaze regal and terrible. The air itself seemed to hum with his presence, a storm given flesh.

Ares knelt before him. Head bowed, body convulsing, his skin was scorched and blackened where Zeus’s lightning had branded him. The proud warrior looked nothing like the predator he had been moments before. “The god of war” just got forced down like a servant in a flash.

"Not as charged up as I’d like to be," Zeus admitted, sparks crawling up his arms and shoulders like living serpents of light. His voice carried a strange resonance now—lighter than thunder, yet edged with command. "But since you two want to be so daring… I’ll make do with this much."

The lightning around him didn’t just crackle—it sang. Each arc bent unnaturally sharp, threads of azure snapping together in deliberate patterns, not wild discharge. It was Lightning Force, yes, but laced with something more: his Will and Charisma, condensed until each surge bore his authority. Every spark moved as if acknowledging a king. Every flicker carried weight, not just power but decree.

For all his careless grins, Zeus was immensely proud of his birthright. It was why Emory always found him infuriating. This “mode” he now displayed hadn’t come from pride alone, though—it was forged in frustration. Emory’s refusal to acknowledge his Crown Prince status had driven Zeus into a spiral of provocation, testing boundaries to dangerous extremes. More than once, Pharaoh himself had been forced to plead with Emory not to take his son’s life. If the Queen had been the one to intervene, Emory’s patience might have snapped altogether—and instead of sparing the prince, he might have ended both their lives in a single stroke. He might have to bury both Zeus and the Queen together just to save coin on the funerals.

It was during those days that Zeus discovered this. By forcing his bearing—his pride, his dignity, his unshakable sense of entitlement—into his lightning, it transformed. His force became not just electricity, but a manifestation of command. It didn’t sway Emory, not in the way Zeus wanted, but even the ever-stoic man admitted to being impressed. He guided Zeus in refining it—though, as always, the boy’s loose tongue and insufferable smugness ruined the dignity of the lesson almost immediately.

Now, however, there was nothing comical in the sight. The air bent around him as if forced to acknowledge his presence. His lightning bore down on Ares and Hercules not just as an element, but as law.

Hercules moved first. Like a beast uncaged, his massive frame blurred forward, club gripped tight, the lion’s mane along its hilt roaring to life. Each swing tore gouges in the floor, shockwaves rattling the stands as if the arena itself feared him.

But Zeus was no longer the airheaded fool. His movements were fluid, precise, almost regal. He slipped between the monstrous strikes, lightning flashing from his fingertips to drive back the pressure, his laughter gone, replaced by calm, sharp intent.

Then, with a snap of his wrist, Zeus summoned a bolt into his hand. It didn’t strike wildly—it formed. The lightning hardened, lengthened, and solidified into a spear of azure radiance, its shaft humming with authority.

The moment he raised it, the crowd felt the difference. This wasn’t lightning conjured. It was lightning obeying.

He thrust. Hercules roared. The club descended like a mountain, a lion’s visage howling with him.

Lightning spear met lion-club.

The collision ripped the air apart, a crack so violent the shockwaves tore outward, scattering dust and stone, and the space between the two warriors became a storm of shattered sound and raw force. Strength collided with authority, brute might against a prince’s decree, and neither side yielded in the instant.

The battlefield shook violently, arcs of lightning tearing fissures through the ground as Hercules’s muscles bulged, veins straining, while Zeus’s eyes burned a deep, electric blue.

Hercules was being overwhelmed in an area he prided himself on, the very domain where he believed none could rival him. Yet every mountainous strike he hurled with his lion-club was deflected, redirected, or outright ignored. Each clash only added to the suffocating pressure pressing against him, a weight that grew heavier with every heartbeat. Frustration etched itself across his face, his teeth bared, as if unwilling to believe that his supremacy in raw might could be shaken.

Then—suddenly—the world seemed to fall silent. The thunderous roars of combat, the clamor of the crowd, the rumble of the earth beneath their feet—gone. In their place came an eerie stillness, followed by the crushing sensation of gravity folding in on itself. The arena groaned as the atmosphere itself thickened, every breath a struggle.

Zeus had just snapped a lightning kick across Hercules’s jaw when his instincts screamed. His eyes lifted—and there it was.

Above him loomed a colossal iron sphere, its surface blackened with weight sigils and force runes. Chains coiled around it like serpents, descending into Hercules’s monstrous grip. He swung the weapon down with brutal intent, the sheer mass dragging reality into its orbit. Even as Zeus bolted sideways, the very pull of gravity betrayed him, tugging at his body, bending his escape toward annihilation.

And that was when the second threat struck.

The god of war had already recovered. Ares surged forward, axe gleaming crimson, his eyes locked onto Zeus with predator’s certainty. He capitalized on the opening Hercules created, attacking with murderous precision.

The Crown Prince of Amunar found himself caught in a perfect pincer. One misstep meant obliteration by the chain-ball’s crushing gravity. One hesitation meant Ares’s axe cleaving him apart.

Zeus had no margin to breathe, no room to play the fool. His lightning surged wildly across his frame, the storm within him demanding a choice.

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Ares’s bloodlust erupted, manifesting a semi-domain that drenched the field in crimson aura. Weapons bled into existence—spears, glaives, swords—each dripping with killing intent. Though not yet a Specialist cultivator, his supreme presence on the battlefield allowed his War Force and bloodlust to fuse into a terrifying spectacle. To make matters worse, Ares could dictate who was permitted to wield these manifested weapons, granting allies like Hercules access at will.

While Hercules swung his chained sphere with brutal force, he would occasionally pluck a spear, glaive, or greatsword from the blood-soaked domain, weaponry flowing to him as though the god of war himself were outfitting him.

And Ares’s moniker of God of War wasn’t just a title—it was literally etched into his status screen. It provided percentile boosts to weapon mastery, meaning no matter what weapon manifested, his proficiency surged. He wielded his semi-domain like an armory of war, every blade, every axe, every hammer bending to his supremacy.

Zeus darted across the arena like a storm unleashed, bolts of authority-laced lightning bursting from his hands to stave off both Hercules’s overwhelming strikes and Ares’s crushing swings. Each attack bent the air with decree, but irritation began to creep into his movements.

Because out of the corner of his eye—his so-called teammate was still plastered against the barrier, calmly watching.

"I know you’re not dead!" Zeus barked, his voice cracking like thunder between movements. "I can hear your breathing. Your heartbeat hasn’t even spiked. My brother taught me how to use lightning to listen to these things—so don’t think you’re fooling me. You’re not in danger. Do you plan on helping, or just spectating!?"

From the shield, Kei M’s voice drifted back, muffled yet unmistakably amused. "I thought you could handle these two with no problem."

Zeus twisted away from a pair of massive greatswords swinging in a deadly cross. His patience snapped. His eyes flared with electric-blue fire as he roared,

"BOY, I AM YOUR CROWN PRINCE! YOU WILL RESPECT ME AS SUCH!"

Kei M’s reply came instantly, lighthearted and cutting, his laughter threading through the chaos.

"Say please."

"You—!" Zeus nearly choked, flustered.

But Kei M’s tone shifted, cool and deliberate. "You said you wanted to teach your younger brother a technique you thought up for him?"

Without waiting for an answer, he peeled himself from the shield as if gravity were nothing. Dropping lightly onto the arena floor, he landed on the handle of a massive glaive manifested from Ares’s domain.

"Hmph," Ares scoffed, nostrils flaring. "You think you’re qualified to touch one of my weapons?"

Kei M tilted his masked head, voice dripping with venom. "And you think a bug like you is qualified to address me? Your will is pathetic. Your whole gimmick is dragging fights out with bloodlust, yet you’re still being beaten down—by a Recruit, no less. You’ve been put down like a dog again and again, and you still dare bark?"

Zeus, mid-dodge from Hercules’s crushing swing, almost tripped over himself. "…Damn," he muttered under his breath.

Kei M’s laughter should have echoed—but it didn’t. His mirth never left his lips, the sound swallowed whole. His words cut the silence instead, sharp as blades through fog.

"Don’t you find it strange?" he asked, spreading his arms mockingly toward the battlefield. "That there hasn’t been any sound for a while now? Do you honestly think that meathead with the oversized ball silenced the world? Ares, your drums of war aren’t even beating through your semi-domain."

Zeus froze for half a breath, realization dawning. His eyes flicked across the arena. "Actually… I thought that was weird too. The sound’s just… gone."

Hercules shifted uneasily, finally turning toward the stands. Normally, he never bothered with the crowd—the barrier blocked sound both ways. But this time, something was off.

The crowd wasn’t cheering. They weren’t chanting. They weren’t even whispering.

Tens of thousands of people strained their voices—mouths wide, arms waving—but no sound emerged. Not even their own voices reached their ears. Panic rippled outward like wildfire, faces twisting in fear as they realized they were trapped in suffocating silence.

"This… this isn’t possible," Hercules muttered, his grip on his club tightening. The lion’s mane etched along its hilt shivered as if uneasy. "The barrier only cuts sound from crossing in or out… but this—this silence has swallowed them too."

"What kind of will does this kid have to stretch his force so far?" Hercules muttered again, disbelief staining his tone. His pride in Strength faltered under the crushing truth: this Recruit’s will was rewriting the battlefield itself.

Kei M ignored their shock. His masked gaze slid back to Zeus, his voice calm, casual, as though asking for tea instead of rewriting reality.

"So," he said lightly, stepping over Ares’s discarded glaive, "that technique you mentioned for me?"

Zeus blinked, caught between combat and the surreal weight of the silence. "Oh? Uh… yeah." His eyes lingered on Kei M, unease tightening his chest at the strange familiarity. "Those resonant shields of yours—since they reflect whatever touches their surface, I always wondered what would happen if my brother wrapped them around his arms and legs. Like… like wearing them as bracelets, if that makes sense."

Intrigued by Zeus’s words, a shimmering Resonant Shield suddenly formed around Kei M’s forearm. He tilted his head, voice curious beneath the mask.

“Like this?”

Zeus brightened, though his tone carried a nervous edge. “Uh, yeah. The shields deflect, right? But they don’t just bounce force back—they amplify it. Way more comes out than what goes in. So… what if it works the same when it’s around your arm? And you, uh… detonate it?”

Kei M’s masked gaze lingered, silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Interesting.”

That was a mistake.

With a sharp pulse, the shield detonated. The backlash didn’t just ripple—it launched Kei M like a thunderbolt fired from a cannon. His body blurred, disappearing across the arena at such impossible speed that Hercules, Ares, and even Zeus barely registered the movement. A thunderous crack tore the air as he smashed into the barrier, rebounding in a rough tumble before skidding to a stop.

For a moment, silence held.

Then Kei M slowly pushed himself upright, flexing his arm experimentally. Shock laced his voice. “...It doesn’t actually hurt.”

Zeus’s jaw dropped, lightning flickering unconsciously across his shoulders. “So that’s what happens…” He let out a half-disbelieving laugh. “Neat! And hey—your arm’s still fine too.”

Kei M’s masked head whipped toward him. “Why did you say that last part like you’re surprised?”

Zeus broke into uncontrollable laughter, sparks dancing with each chuckle. “Hahaha! Kei, I really didn’t think it would work like that. But it’s good to see my brainstorming didn’t go to waste.”

Kei M gave a short huff. “Took you long enough to notice.” His hand rose, peeling away the mask, revealing his face at last. His eyes glinted dangerously as he turned back toward the battlefield. “Now hurry. Let’s finish these two… so I can kill you after.”

Zeus froze mid-laugh, the levity draining. “Yeah, I figured something out a moment ago. If there’s anyone more arrogant than me, it’s you. That’s how I knew.” His voice softened, almost relieved, as his gaze lingered on his brother’s face. Then the rest of Kei M’s words sank in. His brows furrowed. “Wait. Kill me? Why?”

Kei M didn’t answer.

Instead, Resonant Shields flared around both his arms, their edges rippling with volatile energy. He detonated the first without hesitation—vanishing in an instant. Hercules’s eyes widened as a crushing blow slammed into his gut before he could even react, the air exploding from his lungs as his massive frame folded around the impact. His body lurched backward, the ground splintering beneath his feet.

The second shield detonated mid-motion, launching Kei M upward. His fist drove into Hercules’s jaw in a devastating uppercut. The behemoth was lifted from the earth, his lion’s roar cut short as his body was hurled skyward.

“Now!” Zeus shouted, already brandishing a lightning bolt. With a sweeping throw, he hurled it upward. The bolt roared, splitting the silence, and struck Hercules mid-air. The impact tore him from the heavens and smashed him into the arena floor with bone-crushing force.

Stone ruptured. Dust exploded. When it cleared, Hercules’s massive frame lay pinned beneath Zeus’s lightning, the crackling energy chaining him to the ground like divine shackles.

Ares’s eyes widened as he watched Hercules crumble, disbelief freezing his war-hardened instincts. The fight had ended so quickly—so effortlessly—that his brain lagged in trying to process it. Then his gaze landed on Kei M’s unmasked face.

“You… they said you were dead,” Ares muttered, his voice trembling with denial.

That was all he managed before agony consumed him.

Kei M detonated the Resonant Shields layered around his legs, vanishing in an instant and reappearing with a vicious kick. His heel crashed into Ares’s thigh, the sickening crack nearly snapping the femur clean. Ares screamed—raw, guttural—his warlike pride shredded by pain.

“I always found you sickening,” Kei M hissed, his eyes brimming with disgust as Ares collapsed.

Before the God of War could even recover, Zeus was already upon him. With a snarl, he seized Ares by the head and slammed it down into the arena floor. Lightning surged violently from his palms, arcs of authority-laden electricity chaining Ares to the ground as his body convulsed beneath the current. Shackles of thunder locked him in place.

[System Notice: Match Concluded.]

[Victor: Amunar Kingdom.]

The arena barrier flickered as the announcement echoed. The silence broke at last—cheers, outrage, and disbelief erupting from the crowd. But Kei M only frowned, his tone sharp with irritation.

“Awwww. I didn’t even get the chance to torment them with silence. You and your stupid idea ruined it for me,” Kei M complained, though his grin twisted dangerously. “But imagine how fun it’s going to be to instantly rip your head off with it.”

Zeus blinked, confused. “Huh? What did I do?” His words faltered as his eyes caught the sight of multiple Resonant Shields forming—layer upon layer—along both of Kei M’s arms. The realization struck cold. “If one made you that powerful…” He didn’t finish the thought.

Because Kei M’s hand was already outstretched, surging toward Zeus’s face—unstoppable, unavoidable.

And yet, it stopped. Inches away.

“EMORY! LET ME GO!” Kei M roared, struggling as his body was bound by invisible restraints.

Emory stood calmly at his side, a firm hand anchoring his shoulder. His tone was almost casual. “What happened isn’t what you think, young master. And believe me, for as much as I’d love to watch this idiot die—”

“Hey…” Zeus muttered, insulted.

“—he wasn’t the cause of your downfall,” Emory continued coldly, ignoring him entirely. His gaze never wavered from Kei M. “And deep down, you know who it really was.”

Kei M’s teeth clenched, fury blazing through his voice. “BUT HE STILL GAVE IT TO ME! I TRUSTED HIM!” His murderous eyes locked on Zeus, veins of rage threatening to burst.

Zeus’s heart tightened painfully. “What’s happening?” he asked, his voice shaking as his chest constricted.

Emory didn’t flinch. “You remember that ‘elixir’ your mother gave you? The one she told you to pass on to the young master?”

Zeus’s blood ran cold. “…Yes.”

“It wasn’t medicine,” Emory said, each word sharp as a blade. “It was a tonic designed to cripple Kei’s body. To ruin his talent. Your mother was jealous—she knew that if he remained, you’d never ascend as Crown Prince. So she used you, her own son, to destroy your younger brother.”

Zeus’s eyes widened, horror flickering across his face. “No. She wouldn’t—”

“YES SHE WOULD!” Kei M bellowed, his fury shaking the very air.

“…Yeah,” Zeus whispered bitterly, his head lowering. “Yeah, she would.” His hands trembled, torn between disbelief and the grim truth. “But to use me for it…”

There was no apology on his lips—because he knew words would never fix it. Instead, he slowly turned, his gaze locking onto the royal box. The Queen of Amunar sat stiff, her expression unreadable.

Zeus’s eyes burned with venom as he declared, each word ringing like thunder. “The day will come when I kill you myself.”

Pharaoh’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. Pride flickered in his gaze as he looked upon his son—not for his strength, but for his defiance. The Queen, however, was struck dumb. Shock and rage twisted her features as her own child cast judgment upon her.

“The only reason I let you live this long,” Pharaoh said with a cruel smile, “was so you could witness your own schemes unravel and devour you. I wanted you to see the end you wrote for yourself.”

The Queen’s mouth opened to respond, but before she could, another voice cut across the arena.

“Actually, I have another idea.”

Heads turned. Silvie’s voice rang clear, steady, her eyes glinting with resolve. Kei Y, watching from the sidelines, immediately understood what she meant.

Zeus wasn’t Greek—not truly. Which meant he had never cast Cronus into Tartarus for eternal torment. But Silvie was suggesting it now—that Zeus be the one to send the Queen into that abyss, tying her fate to the mythos itself.

Kei Y chuckled. “You’re worse than me.” He absently played with Olly, his voice carrying a cruel amusement. “And I love it.”

The tournament pressed on, bouts raging one after another as participants fought, triumphed, and fell. Victors raised their banners high while the defeated limped or were carried from the stage, their names struck from the roster.

Now, as the dust settled from the last clash, the next match was called.

[Next Match: Amunar Kingdom versus India.]

The crowd’s cheers died down as the combatants stepped forward.

From Amunar’s side, a Soldier Class strode across the arena. But before his shadow reached the center, India’s Crown Prince stepped forward, hands joined reverently, exuding calmness.

Silvie bloomed into the field, her footsteps bursting with roots and petals that melted into the arena floor. She didn’t walk so much as sprout into place, the air carrying a fragrant, subtle tension that drew every gaze to her. Her eyes gleamed, wide and expectant, the corners of her lips tugged into a smile that looked far too excited for what was about to begin.

"Namo Amitābhāya, young one. Let’s have a good match."

India’s Crown Prince clasped his hands together, bowing first to Silvie and then to her partner. His tone was calm, almost serene, yet there was a weight in his presence that pressed against the field itself.

"I don’t think your presence is much needed in this match," he said casually to the Indian Soldier walking a step behind him.

The man’s reply was steady, his eyes fixed on Silvie. "Crown Prince, I don’t think you understand. That little girl is far more dangerous than you realize. I won’t be fulfilling my duty if I don’t protect you."

The Crown Prince paused, studying Silvie again, his brow furrowing slightly. "You mean to tell me our Divine General is entering the field… for her?" He exhaled softly, accepting the silence that followed. "Have it your way, then."

Silvie glanced at her own teammate, her voice unbothered. "Try not to die on me. Or do. Just don’t get in my way."

Her teammate gave only a silent nod in return.

[System Notice: India – Siddhartha Gautama and Mahoraga versus Amunar Kingdom – Sanu and Nekhtem.]

[Match Begin.]