CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The air outside the arena was thick with tension, a mixture of excitement and apprehension as warriors and spectators alike gathered for the grand tournament. Alexandri stood near the entrance, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He had expected the two boys to emerge from the Hollow, but not like this. The moment they appeared, a suffocating pressure filled the atmosphere, causing some fighters to pause mid-step while others instinctively reached for their weapons. The dark, swirling auras surrounding them pulsed like living entities, forcing even the most seasoned warriors to take notice. Their appearance was nothing short of primal—tattered yet strangely imposing garments fashioned from the hardened scales of the rock serpent, their unkempt hair standing wild, their eyes sharp and piercing, devoid of warmth. They did not walk like men seeking glory but like creatures who had already conquered death and returned stronger.

  As they strode toward the entrance, a group of fighters blocked their path. These were not ordinary competitors but individuals who carried themselves with arrogance, their bodies brimming with barely contained energy. One of them, a man with a volatile, almost unstable aura, stepped forward. “Who are you boys?” he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’ve caused quite the stir with just your presence. You’ve caught my attention.” But neither Shin nor Al responded. They merely continued walking, their expressions unreadable. The lack of reaction infuriated the man, his muscles tensing as he quickly stepped in front of them again. “Do you even know who I am? Who my family is? I was going to do you a favor and take you under my wing, but it seems you’re just arrogant brats.” His words carried weight, drawing murmurs from nearby onlookers. It was a challenge—one meant to establish dominance. Both boys refused to acknowledge his existence which only infuriated the young man more as he was made to look insignificant by them, he couldn’t stand to have that.

  It was only when he reached out, his hand hovering just above Shin’s shoulder, that he truly understood his mistake. In an instant, Shin’s gaze flickered toward him, sharp as a dagger. The mere act of being acknowledged sent a wave of paralyzing dread through the fighter’s body. His mind screamed at him to retreat, his instincts flashing images of his own hand disintegrating into a bloody mess like minced meat. His breath hitched, sweat forming at his temples, and for the first time in years, fear—raw and undeniable—crept into his heart. His hand trembled, hesitating mid-air, before he finally withdrew it. Without another word, Shin and Al walked past him, their presence leaving an invisible scar on the gathered fighters. The man swallowed hard, trying to mask his shaken composure, but those who witnessed the exchange understood—these boys were not to be trifled with.

  A heavy silence hung over the entrance as the fighters who had witnessed the confrontation exchanged uneasy glances. The leader of the group, still pale from his brush with Shin’s gaze, clenched his fists, his pride wounded in front of his peers. But none of them dared to speak further. The presence of the two boys had shifted something in the atmosphere—an unseen pressure that was not just intimidating but oppressive, as if the very air around them had thickened. Even the other fighters, many of whom had trained for years to earn a place in the tournament, could feel it. Some tried to brush it off as an illusion, an exaggeration of fear, but their instincts told them otherwise. The aura of these two wasn’t just powerful—it was unnatural. They had survived something beyond comprehension, something that had stripped them of hesitation and weakness. And that made them dangerous.

  Among the gathered warriors, a few whispered rumors began to spread. Some speculated that the two had trained in forbidden lands, others murmured about ancient techniques lost to time. A handful even suspected they were no longer human. But none of these warriors, not even the strongest among them, wanted to test their theories firsthand. The fear they had witnessed in their comrade’s eyes was enough. A few commentators and knights who had been watching with interest stepped back into their groups, their discussion growing hushed. “They are more than what they seem,” one of them muttered, his eyes narrowing. “If the others aren’t careful, they’ll be nothing more than stepping stones for those two.” His companion chuckled under his breath. “Perhaps that’s what makes this interesting,” he replied. “We shall see how far they go.” With that, they disappeared, their presence melting into the bustling crowd as the tournament’s first matches loomed ahead.

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  A few feet away, a pair of cloaked figures observed the interaction. They stood at the edges of the arena gates, their hoods concealing their faces, though their piercing eyes gleamed with intrigue. “Those two… they are unknowns we didn’t account for, they might be a problem”one of them murmured, voice low but laced with disgust. “They are insignificant, two boys who can’t even control their rampaging auras shouldn’t concern you. Focus on your assignments and why you are here.” His companion, a taller figure draped in a heavy crimson cloak, merely chuckled. “Fear,” he said. “They have learned to instill it without lifting a finger. That alone makes them dangerous.” The first figure nodded, his gaze lingering on Al in particular. “Him especially. He walks as if he has seen this before as if this place is familiar yet distant.” He narrowed his eyes. “A warrior returning to a battlefield he once lost.” The taller man smirked but said nothing. The tournament had just become far more interesting.

  When they finally reached Alexandri, the man studied them closely before speaking. “I never thought you both would make it out of the Hollow.” His eyes flicked to their clothing, noting the craftsmanship of the rock serpent scales. “I see you got resourceful. Good. You’ll need that in the arena.” His voice was firm but not unkind. Al’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a fire in his gaze—a hunger that hadn’t been there before. Alexandri recognized that look. It was the gaze of someone whose entire being was fixated on a singular purpose. “Come this way,” he instructed. “We need to get you both registered. You’re the last ones to arrive. All the other fighters are already inside, waiting for the match-ups.” As they followed him through the entrance, the sheer scale of the arena became evident. The walls were lined with banners, the stone floor scarred from battles long past. The energy in the air was electric, each competitor preparing for the brutal combat ahead. “The first round determines who advances to the round of sixteen,” Alexandri continued. “Make sure you don’t fall in the first round.”

  Al barely listened. He had already seen this place before, had already walked these halls in another life. But this time was different. He was no longer the same person who had once stepped into this arena with naive dreams of victory. He had been reborn, went through harsh training from his mentor, fought an elder wyvern and also gone through a hellish and brutish ordeal in the Hollow, and this time, he would not fail. His gaze drifted to Shin, who remained silent beside him. No words needed to be spoken. They understood each other without them. They were here not just to compete, but to rewrite their fates. The registration process was swift, their names were added to the list just as the brackets were finalized. Within the hour, the match-ups were announced, and fate, in its cruel or perhaps fitting way, had placed Shin’s first opponent directly in his path—the very fighter who had confronted them outside the gate.

  As the crowd gathered, Al placed a hand on Shin’s shoulder before he stepped onto the stage. “Do not be afraid,” he murmured. “And do not underestimate your opponent. The crowd doesn’t matter. Their cheers or boos should mean nothing to you. You know why you’re here. You’ve got this.” Shin nodded once before stepping forward, his aura already darkening. The arena erupted with excitement as his opponent grinned at him from across the battlefield. The arrogance in the man’s eyes had returned, fueled by the audience’s energy. He cracked his knuckles, his malicious grin widening. “You are going to die here,” he spat. The crowd roared in approval, eager to see bloodshed. But Shin said nothing. He simply took his stance, his expression calm, his eyes void of emotion.

  From the stands, Alexandri observed with keen interest. He had seen countless fighters enter this arena, some seasoned warriors, others ambitious newcomers. But Shin and Al were different. They carried themselves not as challengers seeking to prove themselves, but as inevitabilities—as forces of nature that had already decided their victories. The match had yet to begin, but Alexandri already had his answer. The Hollow had not just changed them; it had unleashed something far more terrifying. And as the announcer prepared to signal the start of the battle, a single thought crossed Alexandri’s mind. *The arena is not ready for them.*