Advent of the Three Calamities

Tharvek sat quietly with one fist resting beneath his chin, his body leaning slightly forward as his grayish hair fell loosely over his forehead.

His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, yet there was something strangely imposing about the way he sat. His white robes pooled around the large stone chair while his half-lidded eyes remained fixed on nothing in particular, the silence of the room seeming heavier around him.

"It should be almost running out by now."

His voice drifted softly through the room.

The ability he’d given his new ’guard’ wasn’t permanent. Even with his own ability acting as a medium, there was only so long the connection could remain stable before it eventually faded.

Tharvek knew that well.

"I wonder what he’ll do next?"

His fingers slowly tapped against his cheek.

Would he return after losing the trail?

Or would he continue searching on his own?

Either option worked for him.

If the guard returned, Tharvek would simply provide him with the same ability again and get him to look for it again. That’d be the most obvious option, but it would also tell him the extent of his desire for the elixir. If he continued ahead despite running out of the effect, then perhaps it’d mean he had finally discovered what he had been looking for, or was simply too desperate to go back to him.

’...I wouldn’t be surprised if he found something.’

After all, even after reaching the very top of Karah Togg, there were still places within the city that remained outside his reach.

That fact had always bothered him.

A faint smile appeared across his face.

"Either way..."

His words trailed off as a low rumble reached his ears.

At first, it sounded distant. Little more than a vibration traveling through the thick stone walls, but the longer Tharvek listened, the clearer it became.

Cheers.

His fingers stopped tapping.

Slowly, his eyes opened.

"...Hm?"

Tharvek rose from his seat.

His white robes dragged lightly against the floor as he stepped out of the room and entered the broad corridor outside. Carved along the walls were old markings belonging to previous Rankers, some so worn by age that their names could barely be distinguished anymore.

Tharvek didn’t spare them a glance.

He continued ahead, following the growing noise until the familiar roar of the Sun-Scour Arena became hard to ignore.

By the time he reached the overlooking platform reserved for those standing near the very top of Karah Togg, the fight had already begun.

His presence drew a few glances from the surrounding seats.

They disappeared almost immediately.

Tharvek paid them no mind as he approached the railing, his gaze settling on the arena below.

Rhizen.

The man moved differently from the last time Tharvek had seen him. There was less desperation in his attacks, his movements noticeably calmer as he avoided his opponent’s increasingly reckless strikes.

Tharvek quietly watched.

Then, for the briefest of moments, the scenery before him changed.

The man standing in the arena was no longer Rhizen.

The frame was broader.

Older.

A torn cloth hung from one shoulder while blood ran down his other arm, dripping steadily onto the sand below. Somewhere beyond the arena, the cheers sounded harsher than they did now, carrying the same desperate hunger that had filled these walls long before many of the current Rankers had ever stepped inside them.

And among them—

A much smaller hand tightened around the edge of a stone railing.

"..."

Tharvek blinked.

Rhizen stood there again.

His expression hadn’t changed, though the smile that normally rested so easily across his face seemed to have disappeared for the briefest of moments.

"How strange."

A small laugh escaped his lips as he stepped closer to the edge.

Perhaps sensing his arrival, someone seated on the opposite side of the arena slowly raised his head.

The Elder.

Their gazes met across the distance.

For several seconds, neither of them looked away.

The Elder’s eyes narrowed, his weathered face growing noticeably colder.

Tharvek merely smiled.

BANG!

A heavy impact thundered from below, sending sand scattering across the arena and drawing both of their attention back toward the fight.

Tharvek rested his arms against the railing, his grayish hair shifting beneath the hot wind that swept through the open arena.

His eyes settled on Rhizen once more.

For reasons he couldn’t quite place...

He found himself watching a little more carefully than before.

***

BOOOM—!

The Sun-Scour Arena shook beneath the roar of the crowd.

Leon stood near the center, his breathing steady as he stared at the man across from him.

His opponent was large. Not quite as large as some of the people Leon had previously fought, but still significantly bigger than him. Numerous scars covered the man’s upper body, and blood already dripped from the corner of his mouth.

The fight had been going on for several minutes, yet Leon could already see the change.

’He’s getting desperate.’

The man’s movements were different from before.

At the start, his attacks had been careful and carefully calculated. He tested Leon’s range, watched his footwork, and tried to bait him into making a mistake. He was one of those types of fighters that one had to be very careful of.

At least, that was how things were at the start.

"RAAAH!"

The man rushed forward, his fist tearing through the air. A low whistle resounded throughout the arena.

Leon shifted half a step.

Swooosh!

The attack passed beside his head, but instead of immediately countering, Leon moved back and watched as the man twisted his body into another attack.

He followed it up with another, then another.

Each strike became heavier and sloppier than the last, the man’s eyes turning bloodshot as he continued pushing forward without any regard for the injuries already covering his body.

Leon stared at him.

For a moment, he saw himself.

The way he had fought in the trials.

The way he had deliberately taken attacks just so he could land one of his own.

The way he’d pushed through broken bones because stopping would’ve meant admitting that he wasn’t strong enough.

"..."

The man’s fist came toward his face.

Leon tilted his head and let it miss before stepping out of range of the kick that followed.

The crowd immediately started to boo.

"Fight!"

"Kill him!"

"Stop running, you fucking coward!"

Their voices thundered throughout the arena, but Leon paid them no mind.

His opponent, however, seemed to hear every single word.

His face twisted.

"Fight me!"

He charged again, his speed noticeably faster than before.

Leon watched carefully.

’His shoulder is raised, and his center of gravity is too far forward. Not to mention his right side. That’s exposed too.’

The opening was obvious.

Leon stepped in.

BANG!

His palm slammed into the man’s ribs, folding him around the impact. Before he could recover, Leon slipped down and struck the back of his knee.

The man’s leg buckled.

"Uekh!"

Leon followed with another strike against his shoulder.

Crack!

"Ukh...!"

The man collapsed, and Leon immediately moved away.

There was no need to continue.

"Haa... Haa..."

His opponent pushed himself up.

Leon watched him struggle, the man’s arms shaking violently beneath his weight as he somehow managed to rise again.

"Again."

His voice sounded hoarse.

Leon stared at him for several seconds.

"...Why?"

The man froze.

It was a simple question.

Leon wasn’t even sure why he’d asked it.

The man’s jaw clenched as he looked toward the crowd.

"For rank."

Of course.

Leon almost laughed, not because the answer was funny, but because it sounded familiar.

"That’s it?"

"What else is there?"

The man rushed forward again.

This time, Leon didn’t retreat.

He watched carefully as the distance between them disappeared, and for some reason, everything felt slower.

Not physically.

His mind simply felt clearer.

There was no frustration or lingering desire to prove anything. He wasn’t thinking about Julien, Tharvek, or even what would happen if he lost.

He was simply watching the opponent in front of him.

And then—

Something inside his body shifted.

Leon felt a faint pattern, the same thing he’d spent countless hours trying to grasp.

The Rune.

His eyes widened slightly.

’There.’

It was clearer than ever.

For months, he’d tried forcing himself to understand it. He’d pushed mana through his body, studied the blood, and fought until his legs could barely keep him standing. Every time he thought he’d gotten close, the sensation slipped from him.

But now?

’It’s here. I can feel it.’

As if it had always been.

The man swung his enormous fist.

Leon moved, stepping around the attack as he placed a hand against his opponent’s chest. For the briefest of moments, the Rune inside him stirred. Without even thinking, Leon stepped forward and clenched his fist, returning his opponent’s fist with one of his own.

BANG!

Circular waves of pressurized wind burst from the point where their fists collided, sending the man flying backward. His body struck the sand and rolled several times before finally coming to a stop.

Silence descended over the arena.

Leon looked down at his hand. He could tell the bones were broken, and he could barely feel anything from it. Blood seeped from his knuckles, the injury obvious even to him.

But as he stared, he noticed something else.

His skin was repairing itself right before his eyes.

"..."

He started to get a better grasp of the power he had inherited.

Not quite everything.

Far from it.

But enough.

The harder he’d tried to force it, the farther away it had seemed. Now that his mind was quiet, he could finally feel it.

A groan pulled him from his thoughts.

Leon raised his head.

His opponent was still alive.

But just barely.

The man tried to move, but his body refused to respond. Blood ran from his lips as he looked up at Leon, and around them, the crowd slowly started chanting.

"Kill him!"

"Finish it!"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Their voices grew louder.

Leon stood still as memories surfaced in his mind.

Gorian.

The children.

Julien.

For a brief moment, his chest tightened before gradually relaxing again.

He walked toward his opponent.

The chanting intensified, and the man beneath him slowly closed his eyes as Leon stopped beside him.

"..."

Leon looked down at him for several seconds.

Then he turned around.

"W-what...?"

The man opened his eyes.

Leon didn’t look back.

"I won."

That was all he said.

"What do you mean you won!?"

"Kill him!"

"What are you doing, you coward! Kill him!"

"Pathetic bastard! Kill him!"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The arena erupted into angry shouts behind him. Some booed while others screamed, but Leon ignored all of it as he continued toward the exit. Whether the city liked his decision or not wasn’t his problem.

Whether Julien understood it didn’t matter either.

He had won, and what happened afterward was his choice.

This was how he wanted to do things.

This was his High.

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