The arena felt heavier now.
Four victories.
Four statements.
And now—
The final match of the round.
The overseer’s voice rang across the arena, laced with anticipation.
“Final match of the First Round!”
The crowd quieted.
“Dorian Blackvein of the Heavenly Demonic Sect… versus Metiso Alucard of the Heavenly Martial Sect!”
The name alone stirred the elders.
The Heavenly Martial Sect.
A sect devoted purely to martial arts refinement. No reliance on exotic elements. No poison. No illusions.
Just fists and bodies trained beyond mortal limitation.
Metiso Alucard stepped into the arena first.
Bare arms wrapped in black cloth. Scars lined his torso like badges of honor. His eyes were steady—calm, disciplined.
No arrogance.
Only focus.
From the Heavenly Demonic side—
Dorian Blackvein descended.
Tall. Broad. Muscular frame wrapped in dark combat armor. His expression unreadable.
Around his hands—
The GrimLord’s Gauntlet gleamed.
Rank: Forbidden.
Function: Amplifies physical force through accumulated battle intent.
Side Effect: Erodes the sanity of unqualified users.
The metal pulsed faintly as if remembering every battle Dorian had fought.
Metiso rolled his shoulders once.
“I’ve been waiting,” he said evenly. “Your sect fights with overwhelming power. I want to see if that power can withstand refined martial arts.”
Dorian cracked his neck.
“Good,” he replied. “I was getting bored.”
The gong struck.
Metiso vanished first.
Not with flashy qi.
Not with explosions.
Just pure footwork.
He appeared at Dorian’s flank, fist already mid-strike.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
BOOM.
The impact echoed like a war drum.
Dorian slid back three steps, boots grinding against stone.
Metiso didn’t stop.
He flowed forward, strikes chaining seamlessly—elbow to ribs, knee to thigh, palm to sternum.
Each hit landed with surgical precision.
The Heavenly Martial elders nodded.
“Good.” “He’s disrupting the demonic one’s rhythm.”
Dorian blocked late.
He counterpunched.
The GrimLord’s Gauntlet roared to life.
His fist connected—
The shockwave alone shattered a chunk of arena stone and sent Metiso flying.
But Metiso flipped midair and landed cleanly.
He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
“That’s better.”
Dorian grinned.
Battle intent surged.
The gauntlet absorbed it.
Amplified it.
The metal began to glow faintly crimson.
They clashed again.
Fist to fist.
Knee to forearm.
Bone met metal.
Cracks formed beneath their feet.
Metiso’s martial arts shifted.
His breathing changed.
A golden aura faintly outlined his body.
“Heavenly Limit Break—First Gate.”
His movements sharpened.
Faster.
Cleaner.
He struck Dorian’s shoulder joint—pop.
Then his ribs—crack.
Then his thigh—impact.
Dorian staggered.
Blood trickled from his mouth.
The crowd roared.
“He’s breaking him down!”
But Dorian laughed.
A low, guttural sound.
The GrimLord’s Gauntlet pulsed violently.
The more damage he took—
The more battle intent accumulated.
The more it amplified.
Metiso saw it too late.
Dorian stepped in and delivered a straight punch.
CRACK.
The air ruptured.
Metiso blocked—but his arms bent unnaturally as he was launched backward, smashing into the barrier and coughing blood.
The barrier flickered.
The stakes were real now.
This wasn’t dominance.
This was war.
Metiso stood again, breathing ragged.
He spat blood.
“Good,” he muttered.
His aura flared brighter.
“Second Gate.”
His veins bulged.
His movements blurred.
He vanished—
Reappeared behind Dorian—
A barrage of strikes erupted like divine judgment.
Dorian’s armor shattered in places.
Blood sprayed.
One clean kick struck his jaw, snapping his head sideways.
Another blow cracked against his temple.
For a moment—
The GrimLord’s Gauntlet pulsed dangerously.
Its hunger rising.
It wanted madness.
Wanted frenzy.
Dorian’s eyes flickered red.
But—
He breathed.
Steady.
Controlled.
He was the only qualified user.
The only one whose sanity did not erode.
Instead—
He sharpened.
Metiso launched his final strike—palm aimed at Dorian’s heart.
Dorian caught it.
The arena shook.
Their eyes locked.
“You’re strong,” Metiso said through clenched teeth.
“So are you,” Dorian replied.
Then—
The gauntlet absorbed every ounce of accumulated battle intent.
Every injury.
Every exchange.
Every impact.
It amplified it all.
Dorian’s next punch landed square in Metiso’s abdomen.
The sound was not explosive.
It was crushing.
Metiso’s body bent around the blow.
The golden aura shattered.
He was launched upward, spinning, before crashing back into the arena floor in a crater of stone.
Silence.
Dust settled.
Metiso tried to rise.
His arms trembled.
His vision blurred.
He collapsed.
The overseer rushed forward.
“Winner—Dorian Blackvein of the Heavenly Demonic Sect!”
The arena erupted into thunderous noise.
But both fighters bore marks of war.
Dorian’s ribs were cracked.
Blood dripped from his brow.
Metiso lay unconscious but alive.
Real stakes.
Real injuries.
Real power.
Dorian turned and walked back toward his sect without celebration.
Jin’s eyes lingered on him.
Approval.
The First Round was over.
The Celestial Sect Leader rose once more.
“Now begins the second phase!”
Her voice echoed with authority.
“The Royal Battle.”
The arena expanded magically, platforms shifting and merging into one massive battlefield.
“All remaining competitors will enter the arena simultaneously.”
“No alliances guaranteed.”
“Victory belongs to the last standing.”
Excitement surged.
Tension peaked.
One by one—
The competitors descended into the massive arena.
The five demons stood together briefly—
Then separated, spreading across the battlefield.
High above—
Jin reclined in his seat.
Esdeath rested comfortably in his lap, icy aura contrasting faintly against his suppressed demonic presence.
He watched the gathered geniuses below.
Prodigies.
Saint-seed candidates.
Future sect pillars.
He smiled.
Cold.
Amused.
“Let’s see,” Jin said softly, stroking Esdeath absentmindedly, “what the geniuses of today amount to.”
