The air in the arena was heavy, like the oppressive silence before a storm. Zane stood before Hope, grinning confidently, his eyes filled with a cruel gleam. He had already dismissed his opponent as weak, a mere child, someone beneath his notice.

But there was something in Hope’s eyes, something different now, that made Zane pause for a moment, his smirk faltering ever so slightly.

"What's your name, kid?" Zane sneered, cracking his knuckles. "You can tell me, I don't kill nameless kids." His words hung in the air, dripping with disdain.

Hope met Zane's gaze, his eyes cold and detached. "Hope" he replied, his voice calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something dangerous.

Cedric, sitting in the spectator’s box, furrowed his brow. The name "Hope" echoed in his mind. 'Where did I hear that name before?' It was almost familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Something about it seemed off, though.

Zane burst out laughing, the sound harsh and mocking. “Hope? There’s no hope for you here” he said, taking a step forward. “But don’t worry, kid, I’ll take care of your family for you. I hope you have a sister... I’d love to take care of her too.”

The words hit Hope like a strike to the chest. He didn’t react at first, but something inside him stirred, something old and painful. A wound long buried was ripped open once again.

Hope’s eyes grew distant as Zane’s cruel words echoed in his mind. He felt a wave of grief flood through him, suffocating him. 'Ava… you died, and I couldn’t even protect you…' His chest tightened as the memories came flooding back. 'Ava… I’m sorry… so sorry…' His thoughts spiraled, and all he could hear were the whispers of his guilt, the ghosts of his failures.

'If only I hadn’t been so stubborn, if only I stayed home and didn’t defy Father’s wishes... maybe, just maybe, I could have saved you. Maybe things would have been different… No, I’m sure things would’ve been different. I’m sorry, Ava… I’m sorry…'

The grief gripped him tighter, and before he even realized it, Hope’s hands clenched into fists. His breathing became shallow as anger flared within him, and the emotions he had buried deep inside for so long began to rise to the surface. He was drowning in his guilt and rage, and Zane’s words had pulled the last thread that had been keeping him together.

Hope’s eyes locked onto Zane’s, and for the first time, there was no trace of the indifferent young man who had entered the arena. There was only destruction. Zane, who had been smirking up until now, felt a shift in the air, a palpable change. Hope’s gaze burned with a fury that made the world feel colder, darker.

Zane felt the change, but he couldn't comprehend it. His grin faltered, his eyes narrowing as he took a step back. 'What’s going on? Why is he looking at me like that?' There was a coldness in Hope’s eyes now, something beyond hatred, something that made Zane’s blood run cold.

“I don’t want to do this” Hope’s voice broke through the tension. His words were quiet, but they carried a weight, a gravity that made Zane’s spine stiffen. “But if I don’t… I feel like my intent will consume me.”

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Before Zane could respond, Hope moved. One moment he was standing across from Zane, and the next, he was in front of him. It happened so fast that Zane didn’t have time to react. Hope’s hand shot out, gripping Zane’s wrist with a vice-like grip. With the other hand, he grabbed Zane’s arm, his fingers digging into flesh.

Hope pulled.

Zane screamed. The sound was high-pitched, desperate, and full of agony. It was a scream of terror, of pain, of the realization that Hope was no longer the weak child he had expected to face. Hope tore off Zane’s hand as though it were a mere appendage, his strength overwhelming.

Zane’s scream echoed through the arena, but Hope didn’t care. His mind was a storm of emotions, and he was no longer in control. His intent, his need to stay true to himself, drove him. As he tore off Zane’s other hand, he could hear Zane begging, pleading, but the words barely registered.

Hope’s cultivation technique, the Path of Eternal Flesh, had long since begun to strip him of his emotions, but today, everything came crashing back. His anger, his grief, and his destruction intent flowed out of him like a flood. He didn’t care about Zane’s screams, he didn’t care about the spectators watching in horror, and he certainly didn’t care about Cedric or the trials anymore.

He grabbed Zane’s legs, one at a time, his hands pulling with terrifying force. Zane’s body contorted as his limbs were ripped from his torso. His screams had become incoherent, broken by the sheer agony of the pain. But Hope didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. The more Zane screamed, the more Hope’s intent pushed him forward, like a force of nature.

The audience was paralyzed in fear. They could only watch, horrified, as Hope continued to destroy his opponent. Some of them were frozen, unable to process what they were seeing. Others, too terrified to move, peed themselves, their faces pale with terror.

Cedric, who had been watching the entire scene unfold from his seat, couldn’t believe his eyes. His hand clenched into a fist as he stared at Hope, his thoughts a whirl of disbelief. 'A teen…?' He had seen ruthless killers before, but this… this was something else entirely. This wasn’t a mere child—this was someone who had embraced destruction with a savagery he had never seen.

Hope continued his brutal dismemberment, his focus unshaken. He grabbed both of Zane’s arms and with one final, terrifying pull, Zane’s body was torn apart. The crowd gasped in unison as Zane’s two halves fell to the ground, his body twitching for a moment before going still. The once cocky, confident fighter was now nothing more than a mangled mess of flesh.

Hope stood over Zane’s broken body, his chest heaving as his destruction intent surged within him. It wasn’t just a spark now. It was a raging inferno, burning brighter, fiercer. If before it was comparable to the early stages, now it looked more like It was at the middle stage, and Hope could feel it, the power of pure destruction coursing through him.

He first looked down at the stage, he saw blood all over the place, he then looked at his hands, chest, pants, they were all drenched in blood. His hair, were half blood-red and half black with tints of purple and fire-red. Then he swept his eyes across the spectators. The once eager, bloodthirsty crowd was now silent, pale, and terrified. They stared at him as though he were some kind of monster. Hope didn’t care. He had been reduced to nothing more than his will to destroy.

He glanced at Zane’s remains once more, a cold, detached look on his face. He didn’t feel satisfaction. He didn’t feel triumph. All he felt was the lingering shadow of guilt, the weight of everything he had failed to protect. His thoughts drifted to his sister, to the family he could never save, to the life he had lost.

The word left his lips in a whisper, almost imperceptible in the deafening silence of the arena. “Ava…”

A single tear fell from his eye, the only sign of the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress.