The platforms retracted with a magical roar, turning into dense mist that pulled back to the edge of the arena. The enchanted sky over Gálvora darkened for an instant, as if even the clouds were holding their breath.
El Dourado stood up and his voice thundered:
— "Marlen watches, the world observes. Let truth be forged in blood and glory. Let pain reveal the worth of each one."
He then pointed to the center of the arena.
— "DIAZ ENKER vs ALKAN VIR. Begin the combat!!"
The runes roared. The arena trembled.
And when Diaz and Alkan took the first step... the world stopped to watch.
Gálvora Arena — Central Platform
Silence fell over the arena as the names glowed in the floating runes:
Diaz walked to the center. Dark gaze. Clenched hands. The sword on his back still dripped from the last battle.
On the other side, Alkan was already standing still, arms crossed, watching him. His black hair, now silver, shimmered like stardust. His aura... was silence after death itself.
— "Finally... I stand before you." — said Alkan in a calm, almost contemplative tone. — "You, Diaz... brute strength. Sword technique. But I'll tell you something."
He raised a finger.
— "None of that can hurt me. Because my body... is no longer flesh. I am made of ashes."
The wind blew. The runes floated. The spectators held their breath.
And then...
Alkan advanced.
In a single instant, his body disintegrated into gray fragments — living dust. The particles spun at absurd speed, passing through Diaz, who barely had time to raise his arm to block.
CHHHHRRRAAA!
Ashes sliced his shoulder and arm like microscopic blades. Diaz staggered a step back, eyes wide.
The ashes regrouped behind him, reforming Alkan's body — unscathed, with a slight smile on his face.
— "You're fast... but my emptiness is faster."
Diaz clenched his teeth. The rage was growing. Blood was dripping.
— "So that's it...? You want to pit ghosts against a man filled with living fury?"
— "No." — Alkan pointed to his own chest. — "I want to fight someone who... still has a reason to keep going. Mine... was ripped away."
Flashback – Fragments
Alkan as a child, kneeling before his father's coffin.
The family elders looked at him with coldness.
— "You inherit no legacy. Only the curse."
Present.
Alkan burst into ashes again — this time in multiple streaks, circling Diaz. Diaz spun, drew his sword, striking the void.
But he was hit on the flank. Then the back. Then the face.
TAC-TAC-TAC!
Three cuts — light, yet deep.
Alkan reformed above him, floating.
— "You fight out of rage, Diaz. I... because I want to feel something. Anything. Even pain will do."
Diaz spat blood. His hand glowed with runes into the blade.
— "Then I'll give you something to feel."
He vanished.
Runes glowed beneath his feet: Position Swap.
He appeared above Alkan, sword spinning like a comet.
— "VERTICAL SLASH: LATENT RAGE!"
The blade came down. Alkan dissolved his body at the last second, but part of the ashes was shredded by the rune wave.
FOOOSHH!
The impact opened a hole in the platform.
Spectators held their breath.
"What absurd magical power!" — they whispered.
Ashes regrouped meters ahead — slower now.
"So that's it... I just need to be faster than the magical flow of the ashes." — Diaz thought, eyes blazing with fury and perception.
— "You... broke my defense." — Alkan muttered, surprised. — "No one has ever hit me in dispersed form."
— "I'm not no one." — Diaz advanced. — "I'm the mistake this world buried alive. And now... that mistake is going to rewrite the rules."
Alkan narrowed his eyes. For the first time... he felt fear.
But then, he smiled.
— "That's what I needed."
He raised his hands. The entire floor was covered in dancing ashes.
— "Come, Diaz. Prove to me that the fire driving you is stronger than the emptiness that consumes me."
Diaz roared.
His blade was engulfed by red rune energy. The ground shook.
And then...
they collided.
Silence reigned absolute.
Magical dust settled in the air like the ashes of a battlefield. Diaz and Alkan stared at each other at the center of the shattered platform. Both panting. Both bleeding. But something in their eyes had changed.
Diaz spun the sword in his hand and stuck it in the ground beside him, opening and closing his fingers firmly.
— "No more tricks. Now... it's you and me. Hand-to-hand."
Alkan smiled. A line of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
— "It's what I wanted from the beginning."
They advanced at the same time.
BOOM!
The impact was dry. Brutal. Pure.
Diaz threw a straight punch. Alkan blocked with his forearm — but slid a step back, absorbing the blow with bent knees.
Alkan spun with his elbow, but Diaz ducked, twisted his torso, and swept the opponent's legs.
Alkan fell, turned midair, and before hitting the ground, partially turned into ash to soften the impact — but Diaz was already behind him.
Position swap with his own embedded sword.
— "Got you."
Knee strike. Straight to the back.
Alkan arched his body, gasping. Tried to disperse, but Diaz already knew the secret: a fraction of a millisecond of vulnerability.
— MANIFESTATION: FISTS OF FURY!
Diaz channeled rune energy into his fists — his arms emitted vibrant sparks. He struck before the ashes could react.
A punch to the abdomen. A right hook. A spinning kick that hurled Alkan into the ground, opening a crater.
Alkan screamed.
For the first time... not as a warrior.
But as someone breaking inside.
— "They threw me here like political trash... bastard of the Vir house..." — he murmured through coughs. — "I just wanted... to beat someone like you. Be someone."
Diaz paused for a moment. Firm gaze, but not cruel.
— "Then get up."
— "What?"
— "If you want to be someone... give me everything now. Because I too... am just a flaw trying to make noise in a world of giants."
Alkan stood up.
Ashes spun around his body. His left eye was bleeding. But he smiled.
— "I have no one. Not even a family worthy of me. All I have... is this fight."
— "THEN SCREAM WITH IT!!" — Diaz shouted.
And they clashed again.
This time no dispersions. No spells. Just fists.
Punch to the face. Elbow to the rib. Knee to the thigh. Kick to the side.
Technique. Instinct. Pain. Fury. Silence.
The rune cameras couldn't keep up. The crowd was ecstatic, stunned.
Alkan struck Diaz with a precise sequence: cross, straight, sway, and kick. Diaz staggered, but activated the position swap with his sword, appearing behind Alkan with a lateral strike.
Alkan blocked with his arm — but the impact was so strong it dissolved his arm into ashes. He screamed.
"I'm running out of magical power..."
Diaz pushed him against the ground, spinning in the air, and with a roar:
— "I WON'T STOP! NOT UNTIL THE WORLD SEES THAT I EXIST!!"
And he struck.
But stopped.
One centimeter from crushing Alkan.
He saw his face. Empty. At peace.
— "You won." — Alkan whispered. — "And now... I know why."
Diaz pulled his fist back, panting.
— "You can win too. But you have to stop running from pain."
Silence.
The ashes around Alkan stopped moving. His body returned to normal — kneeling. He smiled, with difficulty.
— "From today on... I'm not just a bastard. I am... a fighter."
Diaz extended his hand.
Alkan took it.
The crowd exploded in screams. But none of them mattered.
Because there... two of society's mistakes had met.
And for the first time... respected each other.
The image of Diaz and Alkan holding hands still hovered in the rune projections when the sound of the trumpet echoed like a titan's roar.
El Dourado rose.
From the top of the imperial box, wrapped in his golden cloak, he opened his arms like a judge before the gods.
— "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"
The entire arena held its breath.
— "BEFORE EVERYONE'S EYES, BEFORE BLOOD, MAGIC, AND TRUTH..."
A sharp silence.
— "I DECLARE AS VICTOR... THE YOUNG MAGE DIAZ ENKER!"
The arena exploded.
Golden runes shone with his name. The sky lit up. Rune trumpets sounded in unison.
In the Vir House box... the silence was deadly.
Analia Vir remained silent, her eyes fixed on Diaz as if trying to understand what had just happened. But she couldn't hide the cold rage.
Arlin Vir, Alkan's half-brother, rose abruptly.
— "THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!" — he shouted. — "A NOBODY, A NAMELESS DOG DEFEATED A VIR?!"
— "Sit down, Arlin." — said Analia, teeth clenched. — "Don't dishonor the house more than it already is."
The boy trembled. Sat. But the bile in his throat was consuming him.
In the corner, Sarah Vir smiled. Discreet. Contained. But real.
She had seen the fight. Every punch, every step. And she knew: Alkan gave everything. Diaz survived the truth. And that... was worthy.
In the top row, Sofia Kalter simply watched.
Serene expression, almost neutral. But her eyes were fixed on Diaz.
She didn't clap. Didn't smile openly.
But there was a light there. A glimmer of silent satisfaction.
As if she had been waiting for it.
Asla... was different.
She held the balcony rail as if holding back a scream.
Her eyes sparkled. Her chest heaved. And every fiber of her body seemed to shout:
"That is my lord. That is the man I swore to follow."
Without disguise, she whispered:
— "Honor... in every blow. Truth... in every wound."
And then she smiled.
A smile in love.