The day drew to a close under the fading sunlight, the arena still buzzing with energy and chatter despite the conclusion of the quarterfinals. The crowd had witnessed fierce battles, but none had left a more lasting impression than the match between Zerah of the Cloud Heavens Sect and Valeria Olarion.
Zerah had fought with every ounce of her strength, her movements sharp and precise, her techniques honed quite well.
Her strikes were relentless, each one fueled by the pride of her sect and the desire to prove herself. But Valeria had matched her blow for blow, her resilience and adaptability pushing Zerah to her limits.
In the end, it was Valeria who claimed victory. Her final, decisive strike had cut through Zerah’s guard, leaving the Cloud Heaven disciple sprawled on the ground, her chest heaving from the effort.
The crowd roared in approval, but there was no mockery in their cheers—only respect for the battle they had witnessed.
That is why, back in the Cloud Heavens Sect’s side, the mood was somber but not bitter. The disciples sat together, their expressions thoughtful as they reflected on the match. Zerah stood near the window, her posture tense as she stared out at the city. The sting of her defeat lingered, but it was tempered by the knowledge that she had fought well.
Behind her, Elder Xue entered the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. The disciples straightened instinctively, their gazes following her as she approached Zerah.
Zerah turned, bowing deeply. “Elder Xue,” she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. “I apologize for—”
“Enough,” Xue interrupted, her tone firm but not harsh. “There is nothing to apologize for.”
Zerah blinked, momentarily stunned. She straightened cautiously, meeting Xue’s gaze.
“You fought well,” Xue continued, her sharp eyes appraising. “Your performance today was among the finest we’ve seen from this sect in years. Aside from Lira, you have shown the greatest promise in this tournament.”
The disciples murmured in agreement, their earlier tension easing. Even Lira, seated calmly to the side, gave Zerah a small nod of acknowledgment.
Xue’s gaze softened, just slightly, as she addressed Zerah directly. “You were not defeated because you were weak, but because your opponent was strong. Valeria Olarion is no ordinary fighter. She carries not only her own strength but the legacy of her family. And yet, you pushed her to the edge.”
Zerah’s chest swelled with a mix of pride and relief. Though the loss still stung, Xue’s words were a balm to her wounded pride.
“This defeat,” Xue continued, her tone growing sharper, “is not the end of your journey. It is merely a step. Learn from it. Use it to refine your techniques, to strengthen your resolve. That is how you will surpass even those who bested you today.”
“Yes, Elder,” Zerah said, her voice resolute as she bowed her head again. “I will.”
“Good.” Satisfied, Xue turned to the arena again. “With this, we will already have one disciple in finals. Lira should have no problem reaching there.”
The atmosphere in the arena shifted as the announcer called the next match. All eyes turned to the two combatants stepping onto the stage: Lira Vaelan, the Silent Thunder of the Cloud Heavens Sect, and Maelis Arvon, her fellow disciple. The crowd murmured in anticipation, not of the outcome—everyone assumed Lira would win—but to witness the precision and grace of her legendary swordsmanship.
In the Cloud Heavens Sect’s viewing area, the disciples watched with eager anticipation, their confidence in Lira unshaken.
“Senior Sister Lira will breeze through this round,” one of them remarked, folding his arms with a smug expression. “Maelis is skilled, but she’s no match for the Silent Thunder.”
Another disciple nodded. “Exactly. And after that? There’s no way she’ll lose to any of these stinky men—Varen or that rogue Lucavion. They don’t hold a candle to her strength or discipline.”
“She’ll crush Valeria too, if it comes to that,” added a younger disciple, her voice filled with admiration. “Valeria might’ve shown some promise, but she’s only a 3-star warrior. Senior Sister Lira is leagues ahead.”
Their words were full of reverence and confidence, reflecting the unshakable belief they had in Lira’s abilities. Even Zerah, nursing her bruised pride from her earlier defeat, nodded quietly in agreement. Despite her personal dislike for Lira’s calculated demeanor, there was no denying the senior disciple’s strength.
Elder Xue, standing at the edge of the viewing area, didn’t respond to their chatter, though her eyes were firmly fixed on the arena. She too had full confidence in Lira’s ability, but her silence carried an air of expectation, a quiet belief that this match—and the next—would be mere stepping stones for her disciple.
********
On the arena floor, Lira and Maelis faced each other, their expressions calm but focused. For Lira, this was just another step toward the finals, and she carried herself with the unshakable poise of someone who had already envisioned her victory. Maelis, however, wore a faintly nervous smile, well aware of the gap between them.
“Senior Sister,” Maelis said respectfully, her voice steady despite her apprehension. “It’s an honor to face you.”
Lira inclined her head, her tone cool but sincere. “You’ve grown, Maelis. Show me what you’ve learned.”
The referee signaled the start of the match, and Maelis wasted no time. She surged forward, her blade flashing as she unleashed a flurry of strikes meant to keep Lira on the defensive. But Lira didn’t flinch. Her movements were fluid, her sword parrying each strike with effortless precision. Every step she took was deliberate, every counter-measured.
The crowd watched in awe as Lira began to turn the tide. Maelis’ attacks, while skillful, became increasingly frantic as she tried to land even a single blow.
But Lira’s mastery was evident—her footwork, timing, and economy of movement left no openings.
And then, in a flash, it was over. Lira’s blade struck with surgical precision, disarming Maelis and bringing the match to a decisive end. The crowd erupted into applause, and even Maelis couldn’t help but smile ruefully as she bowed in defeat.
“Thank you, Senior Sister,” Maelis said softly. “You’ve shown me how far I still have to go.”
Lira nodded, her expression calm but not unkind. “You fought well. Keep training, and you’ll continue to grow.”
*******
Back in the Cloud Heavens Sect’s viewing area, the disciples erupted in cheers, their earlier confidence fully justified.
“As expected of Senior Sister Lira!” one of them exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. “She’s unstoppable.”
“Of course,” another disciple said, grinning. “No one here can match her strength or discipline. The finals are as good as hers.”
“And once she wins, it’ll prove that the Cloud Heavens Sect remains unrivaled,” added another, their voice brimming with pride. “None of these brutes—Varen, Lucavion—or even Valeria stand a chance.”
Elder Xue allowed a faint smile to touch her lips as she listened to their chatter. “Lira has upheld the dignity of our sect well,” she said, her tone measured. “But the finals are still ahead. Let us not grow complacent.”
Even as she spoke, her eyes shifted to Lucavion, seated calmly on the opposite side of the arena. Valeria who had been beside him all the time was nowhere to be seen.
However, no one dared to do anything to the contestants of the tournament as they were protected by the Marquis.
The Cloud Heavens Sect had already pulled some strings to give an ultimatum to inn owners, and anything other than that would be an act of going against the authority of the Marquis, which Xue wouldn’t be able to take responsibility for.
Though her confidence in Lira was absolute, Xue was not one to dismiss potential threats. She knew better than to underestimate the unpredictable nature of combat—or the motivations of those who fought with nothing to lose.
Still, as Lira returned to the viewing area, her expression as calm as ever, Xue felt a sense of pride. The Silent Thunder had proven herself once again, and the path to the championship seemed more certain than ever.
******
The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the arena as the anticipation reached its peak. The quarterfinals had delivered one electrifying match after another, but now the final match of the day was about to begin—a clash that had the crowd murmuring with excitement and speculation.
“Lucavion… the Phantom Blade, against Joel Rythan of the Silver Flame Sect,” the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, carrying the weight of the moment.
Lucavion was the first to step into the arena. His movements were calm, deliberate, and unhurried, exuding a quiet confidence that immediately captured the crowd’s attention. There was no wasted motion, no showmanship—just an air of unshakable composure. The cheers and murmurs of the audience washed over him like distant noise as he strode to the center of the battleground, his estoc resting at his side.
His black cloak swayed slightly in the evening breeze, and his sharp, focused eyes scanned the arena without emotion. The stark contrast of his unaffiliated status against the prestige of the sects made him all the more intriguing to the spectators. He was a wildcard, a fighter with no ties, standing as an enigma amid a sea of tradition and hierarchy.
‘Joel Rythan,’
Lucavion thought, his mind already turning over what he knew of his opponent. The Silver Flame Sect’s representative was renowned for his brute strength and flame-infused techniques, an aggressive style that overwhelmed many opponents.
‘A direct fighter. This will be… amusing.’
Since this was the first time he would be facing one of the disciples of the Silver Flame Sect, after all. Explore more stories at
‘And a named character from the novel…..though just a side one.’
He was amused.