On the 9th designated arena in the middle of the Mystic arena of the Riftdale city, an intense volley of blows was being exchanged between two individuals. Included but not limited to fists, kicks, slashes, chops, and many more.

The audience had long since lost any hope in making sense of this situation. The ultimate truth was all but clear in everyone’s eyes. Even if the Arcane somehow lost after all this, he had already shattered all their preconceived notions about what the power difference between the ranks is supposed to look like. They had been so stunned until now that the only thing that remained in their visions was the 9th arena.

As the match continued the audience was finally starting to remember their purpose in being seated in the arena at this time of day when no fancy or significant match was scheduled for the whole day. Their sole purpose in being here was… recruiting new talents that appeared after the day of reckoning. It had been about a month since then, and this was a ripe time for them to be appearing in the arena to showcase themselves. At least it was for the talented ones who could make it into Arcane rank in this much time.

But never could they have expected to witness something that might redefine the meaning of talented. Of course, that didn’t mean that this would increase their expectations from any other possible candidates. They understood it perfectly and didn’t need anyone to tell them that this was not a daily or monthly or even yearly occurrence. One would be lucky to have witnessed it once in their lifetime.

They finally escaped their churning thoughts and frantically started sending messages to the people above them in the chain of command. They had to inform them about this… whatever the fuck was happening in the arena. Although the strength of a single person would hardly make any difference in the large scale of things, unless of course if it was someone at the level of those Savants, which was still a long distance away for this Arcane, still, such a talented person would always be welcomed with open arms no matter where they’d go.

They had of course in this little time figured out his relationship with the Sylvancrests, but all relationships stem from profits. As long as they don’t try, how would they know how close this person actually was to them. As for Aura, the person representing the Sylvancrests in this situation, she was completely disregarded from the get go. She had no real value so to speak in the family anyways.

By now, it had been a minute of continuous exchanges between the two people in the arena. For some, the events going on were too fast to make any observations. But that wasn’t the case for everyone. Those who could see what was currently ongoing had their jaws about to touch the floor. It was clear as day for them that the True Spectral was always on the loosing end of the exchange.

Even though he had tried attacking in many conceivable ways, the arcane somehow always managed to match the attack with a blast of speed that comes out of nowhere. Or else he would just take the attack to a non-lethal part of his body, managing to do that every single time said a lot about him. The Nexarion on the other hand, had received several deep cuts and mangled bones In several parts of his body. Despite that, he had also managed to perfectly secure all his lethal parts. It was as if they were competing in who would take less damage, wait, isn’t that what each battle is actually supposed to be about. Anyways the Arcane clearly seemed to be on the better end of the stick in this dual.

The experts had all noticed something glaring about the fighting style of the Arcane, and they could all tell he was heavily dependent on his ability. It would be wrong to say that it was all that was allowing him to achieve what he was performing on stage but they understood it perfectly that without it, he would have hardly lasted a second in this match. That was not to undermine his abilities without it, since they could also just as clearly see his inhuman reflexes and battle sense that allowed him to perfectly match this monster who had trained in Martial Arts for almost his whole life. Of course, these types of things only mattered in matches like the one currently ongoing. They were rare among rare in the battles of true experts with actual stakes. Those battles usually ended in a few exchanges and almost always relied on the abilities that are matched against each other, instead of the individuals themselves.

At this point in the dual, the Nexarion finally managed to land a palm on Ragnar’s chest creating some long-awaited distance between them as Ragnar was sent hurtling backwards for a few metres. It didn’t take him much to steady himself as he stood straight staring into his opponent. As he did, he suddenly coughed out a mouthful of blood onto the floor of the arena. A direct hit on chest from a true spectral was still taxing for his Arcane body that had yet to be enhanced by his essence. If the people in this arena knew that his body wasn’t even enhanced then …

Ragnar wiped the blood from his chin as he continued staring into the Nexarion’s eyes. His face was expressionless as always, but there was a solemn undertone in his eyes. He was finding it hard to accept but despite giving his absolute best with his main ability, he had still underestimated his opponent. And seeing his opponent also staring at him, Ragnar suddenly chuckled, the solemnity disappearing from his eyes, replaced with acceptance. He seemed… satisfied.

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“What’s your name?”

Seeing this and hearing Ragnar’s words, the audience seemed confused, ‘Was it over?’ it definitely didn’t seem like it.

The Nexarion on the other hand, seemed incapable of smiling anymore as he seemed like a block of ice. He never could have accepted a fight against an Arcane to be one of his hardest fought battles of his life yet. The only thing he had in his eyes, was respect, respect for a fellow warrior. But no matter how much he respected his opponent, that wasn’t going to stop him from uttering his next words. “It’s Vale, Vale Nexarion. And you should surrender now.”

His words created an uproar among the audience. What was this? How could he be so shameless as to ask his opponent to surrender when he was clearly in a worse off state? Wait… some people started turning the corks in their heads as they realized something. Was he not using his ability until now on purpose? But why do that? For pride? It was possible but when they compared it with his opponent who was competing against him simply on the basis of his ability, they doubted it. Vale wasn’t such a stupid guy. They couldn’t wrap their heads around his words no matter how much they tried.

Did he really want to deal with this Arcane with just his body and since he failed to do so, he was finally resorting to using his ability? Many people doubted it since they had clearly seen him activating his ability at the start of the match and had instantly stopped for some reason. So this gave their claims more fuel as people threw around theories.

The young man sitting on the sofa in the VIP room also had a smile on his face. The match was about to be over and he knew what the outcome was going to be. “Ragnar huh…” He whispered.

Just as he said that he noticed the grinning Arcane on the stage shift his eyes away from Vale and look straight into his eyes. Not just towards his cabin, but his pitch-black pupils were staring into his eyes. The young man’s breath was stuck in his throat before he instantly regained his bearing staring right back. Before long the Arcane moved his gaze back to his opponent. As soon as he did that both the people in the room let out a breath that they didn’t know they had been holding in for a while. The Young man shifted about in his seat only to find out his back was completely drenched in sweat.

Ragnar looked back at his opponent. His grin was ever-present as always. He had just sensed someone that made his blood boil in excitement, since he might just be… worthy. He’ll only find out if it really is the case or not when they meet face to face. As for now, he had more things to worry about than one might expect from a person in his situation.

He grinned at the Nexarion who wanted him to surrender. Ragnar knew that it was out of good will, since Ragnar had completely misjudged his body and how it had allowed him to circumvent Vale’s ability that was widely feared among the ranked. He had thought that his primordial body didn’t allow outside essence to enter it, which had turned out to be completely wrong. It was wrong of him to assume that his human body was primordial in class like his panther body in the first place. It might be a lot sturdier than normal human Arcane but even he knew that it was nothing when compared to his panther body. And even if it was primordial, it didn’t seem capable of blocking out the essence of his opponent. Instead, if he had to guess, then it was his essence which had refused to be devoured by this Vale’s essence.

He still remembered clearly how Aura had explained his ability worked. After entering a person’s body, it burn’s that person’s essence and it then feeds on that person’s own essence to devour them whole. So, in this case it was his essence that had clearly refused to be affected by his enemy’s essence in the slightest. Treating it like it didn’t exist. If Ragnar had to guess, then Vale’s ability’s quality was probably persistence, that had allowed it to remain in Ragnar’s body. Since any other normal person’s essence would have probably been flushed out by Ragnar’s own.

Although it took Ragnar until the end of the battle to realize all this, it would appear that Vale had understood it ever since the first exchange. He definitely wouldn’t have any idea why his essence was not behaving the way it was supposed to, but It didn’t stop him from instantly adapting and performing the actions that lead to this particular situation.

Ragnar was really impressed and thus had to ask his name. This Vale guy actually seemed worth… subordinating. Now Ragnar understood the situation he was in. He had, in his heart, lost this battle. Several parts of his body were filled with Vale’s essence. If he activated his ability, then Ragnar doubted he would be able to remain standing even for a few seconds. Although he had dodged all the lethal strikes from Vale, that didn’t mean that the parts that were hit were disposable.

Now Ragnar had to make a choice. What would hurt his pride more? Because it was definitely about to take a blow.

Would it be to accept defeat. Even though Ragnar found this opponent to be good enough to be his subordinate, how would it look if his subordinate had defeated him in battle the first time they had met.

On the other hand, he could win by using his other abilities. He had been enjoying this fight enough to not resort to his other abilities or even his tainted perk. But after all this, being forced to use it in order to win also didn’t sit well with him.

That said, he remembered something.

‘Fuck Pride’ He had money on the line alongside a debt to repay. All thoughts of accepting defeat flew out the window. He didn’t reply to his opponent and just grinned.

He raised his hand, the dagger in it started humming as if resisting a huge amount of pressure. Vale understood immediately that this was a stubborn one and he would have to go through with what he had set up or it won’t finish easily. And so, he did.

Just as Ragnar was about to take a step forward, he felt a burning sensation in his palm, alongside several other parts of his body that instantly started creating a sizzling sound, and in the next moment everyone watched as Ragnar disappeared… into the arena???