The waiting area had grown eerily quiet, the number of contenders dwindling to only seven. Each of them was a step away from the final round, their eyes sharp, bodies tense. Even the air itself seemed heavier, charged with the presence of warriors who knew this was no longer just a competition—it was survival.
Yun Jin and the girl kept locked eyes, the intensity between them undeniable. Neither spoke, yet the tension hung thick in the air, both silently measuring the other.
Before the moment could escalate further, a crude voice interrupted them.
"Tch. Young ones these days—so full of fire, always eager to clash. Makes me sick."
A lanky, flexible man strolled toward them, his voice oozing with mockery. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were calculating, filled with an unsettling hunger.
Reva sighed and took a step back. "Well, I guess it’s only fair to introduce myself. The name’s Reva, I’m here representing Lord Berenholt." She tilted her head. "And you?"
Yun Jin met her gaze. "House Altheron."
The moment the name left his lips, the room went deathly silent.
Every fighter stiffened. Even those who weren’t paying attention now turned their heads, their expressions unreadable.
Fighters or not, they weren’t fools. They knew that House Altheron was one of the strongest opposing forces against the Death Throne’s hosts. To declare himself as part of their side, in the middle of enemy territory, was either an incredible flex—or pure stupidity.
The tournament announcement boomed through the waiting hall, calling the matches.
Fighters exchanged glances, some adjusting their stances in quiet anticipation.
"Who is Kieran?" Yun Jin questioned, glancing between the others after seeing his opponent’s name.
A sickening chuckle escaped from the lanky man’s lips, his grin widening into something almost diabolical. "Oh?"
His eyes locked onto Yun Jin’s with an eerie glow. He slowly tilted his head, taking a casual step forward.
"That would be me."
Then, he extended his hand for a handshake, his fingers long and unsettlingly steady.
Yun Jin clasped it, and the moment their palms met, he felt the pressure. Kieran was testing him, his grip gradually tightening, a silent challenge.
Yun Jin smirked and returned the favor, increasing his own strength to match. Their muscles tensed, fingers digging in, neither willing to give an inch. The tension crackled between them like an unspoken promise of battle.
For a few moments, they were deadlocked, both gauging the other's raw strength.
Then Kieran’s grin widened. "Good. I anticipated this fight."
A deep rumbling voice cut through the moment. "Be careful around that one."
Yun Jin turned, facing the giant warrior, who now watched them with a calm yet knowing gaze.
"That man is no ordinary fighter," Olag continued. "He’s a serial killer from the East Coast. Got caught, sold, and now fights for the amusement of merchants. A real monster, that one."
Yun Jin studied the lanky man once more. There was no denial, no shame—just a sharp grin.
Stolen story; please report.
"What can I say?" Kieran shrugged. "The thrill of the hunt never dies."
Yun Jin turned his attention back to Olag, noticing something different about him now. Despite his towering size and hardened features, his eyes held serenity, and wisdom.
"And you?" Yun Jin asked, intrigued.
Olag exhaled, his voice steady. "Olag."
Before he could say more, Reva’s eyes widened in shock. "Wait… Olag? The Olag? The glacier holder?"
Olag gave a slow nod, his gaze steady. "And you… you're from one of the fighter clans of Drakmire Valley, aren’t you?" His voice carried a knowing weight as his eyes flicked toward the small tattoo on Reva’s neck.
Reva tensed slightly, instinctively brushing her fingers over the marking. "Tch. So you know your history."
"I know more than history," Olag replied. "I know the kind of warriors your clan produces. That’s why I’m surprised to see you here."
Reva hesitated for a moment before folding her arms. "That makes two of us. What’s a fallen king of the north doing in a place like this?"
Olag exhaled, his broad shoulders rising and falling. "Same as that guy. I am no longer a king. I am just another fighter… or rather, a slave now."
Before anyone could respond, a sharp voice rang through the waiting hall. "First match, Yun Jin versus Kieran! Fighters, prepare yourselves. You have five minutes."
The tension shifted immediately. Conversations halted, and all eyes turned toward Yun Jin and Kieran. The lanky man’s grin widened, an eerie light flickering in his eyes as he took a step back. He cracked his knuckles, each pop echoing through the now-silent chamber.
A thunderous roar erupted through the grand arena as the announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium. The arena was massive, a colosseum carved into the earth, its fighting pit stretching wide enough to host battles of grand scale. The stands above were packed with spectators, their eager chatter filling the air. Rows upon rows of figures leaned forward in anticipation, their faces shadowed beneath the torchlight that flickered along the arena’s stone walls.
Above them, in the VIP section, masked elites sat in their private booths, watching the event with quiet amusement. Their faces were obscured, but their presence alone was enough to send a chill through any fighter who knew the true weight of their influence. These were the real power players, the ones who dictated the fates of warriors and wagers alike.
"AND NOW—THE FIRST MATCH OF THE ELIMINATION ROUNDS!" The crowd’s anticipation crackled through the air.
"Confirmed kills: 124. Death sentences evaded: 56. Former head assassin of the Jade Fang Syndicate. Sold into the underground after got caught trying to slaughter an entire noble estate overnight. A man who has never been struck in a tournament match! Can his opponent break the streak, or will he, too, fall to the shadows? THE PHANTOM SERPENT! KIERAN!!!"
The audience roared as Kieran glided into the ring, his movements eerily fluid, his body stretching in unnatural ways. He moved like water, a living shadow slipping through cracks in reality.
"And his opponent! A warrior from beyond these walls, a name whispered in defiance of those who run this tournament! The man who stands in open opposition to the hosts of the Death Throne, hailing from House Altheron! The challenger who either holds boundless confidence or suicidal audacity—YUN JIN!
The crowd’s response was immediate—
A wave of deafening boos erupted from all sides, hostility radiating from the spectators. Yun Jin smirked at their reaction, unfazed. He had expected no cheers in a den of his enemies. The announcer, though slightly smug at the reaction, quickly reassured the spectators.
"Now, now! Regardless of politics, we promise a fair fight for the sake of our honored guests! So, will this so-called warrior prove himself in the ring, or will he be torn apart before he ever reaches the next round?!""
As Yun Jin stepped forward, the cheers mixed with murmurs. His earlier bravado had painted him as either a legend in the making or a fool doomed to die.
Yun Jin rolled his shoulders and took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Kieran’s unnatural stance. "That movement of yours... what kind of technique is it? Might be worth noting."
Kieran chuckled, stretching his arms in an almost inhuman way. "Even if you knew, you couldn't train it. It takes years of vigorous conditioning—breaking and reforming muscle over and over until the body bends beyond normal limits."
Yun Jin let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Don’t talk to me about vigorous training. What I’ve been through is far beyond that."
Kieran’s smirk twitched as he observed Yun Jin’s stance—one he had never seen before. A style unfamiliar even to an assassin like him. Likewise, Yun Jin narrowed his eyes as he noticed Kieran’s body shift, his limbs stretching unnaturally, curling like a serpent poised to strike.
"I’ll give you a promise," Kieran said, his voice smooth yet menacing. "I won’t make it quick."
Yun Jin’s grin widened. "I sure hope not. Don't die before I crack that technique of yours."
The announcer raised his hand high. "Fighters ready!"
Both nodded.
Then—
"Match—BEGIN!"