The corridor leading to the staging area was still vibrating from the aftermath of the previous fight.

  Every Spartor who saw Bash pass turned to watch him. Some whispered. Others just stared, the

  disbelief on their faces plain. Word of Murdoc’s defeat had already spread across all four brackets like

  wildfire.

  When he stepped into the staging bay, the rest of his team was waiting, Rixor front and center, arms

  crossed, grin wide.

  “There he is!” Rixor bellowed, clapping Bash on the shoulder hard enough to echo through the

  chamber. “The lightning killer himself!”

  Taren laughed, shaking her head. “You actually vaporized his confidence. I saw it from the viewing

  deck.”

  Liora smirked. “He didn’t vaporize it, he ground it into dust.”

  Even Calen was smiling, though his posture stayed casual as always. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say

  you planned that entire thing from the start.”

  Bash shrugged slightly, the hint of a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. “More like it went the

  way it needed to.”

  Darik leaned back against the bulkhead, folding his massive arms. “You made it look easy. Not even a

  single scratch.”

  Nyra tossed him a protein vial. “Drink. You’re about to be interrogated by every instructor in the

  building. I guarantee it.”

  Before Bash could respond, the announcer’s voice boomed across the facility:

  “Alpha Bracket, Round of 32, Calen, Brown Novarch versus Surg Green Reincarnates. Prepare for

  your match.”

  Calen exhaled through his nose. “Guess that’s me.”

  “Good luck,” Bash said. “He’s got mineral, lightning, durability, and essence, everything that can

  counter you. Don’t force it. Just stay mobile.”

  Calen gave him a two-finger salute. “Wind doesn’t stay still long enough to force anything.”

  Before he could step away, a group of Spartors in white-trimmed armor approached from the far

  corridor, forming a semicircle around Bash. Their insignia marked them as direct Nexus enforcers,

  Council guards.

  The lead guard spoke first, voice filtered through his helmet. “Novarch Bash. You are to report

  immediately for a Nexus evaluation, per order of Councilor Rhell and Commander Virk. We are to

  escort you personally.”

  Rixor’s grin vanished. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Bash looked at the guard, expression unreadable. “Now?”

  “Now,” the guard said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Council’s instructions are explicit.”

  In his mind, S-C’s voice pulsed to life, cool and composed.

  “Expected. They will evaluate after a display like Murdoc’s. They want confirmation of legality.”

  Bash’s fingers flexed slightly at his side. “They shouldn’t find anything, right?”

  “Correct. Every item registered through official distribution channels. The relic is undetectable within

  Nexus frequency range. I can suppress all residual resonance with 99.99% confidence.”

  “Then we’ll let them have their test.”

  He nodded once to his team. “I’ll meet you after.”

  Nyra stepped forward. “We’ll be watching. Don’t let them try anything stupid.”

  Bash’s mouth quirked faintly. “They’ll have to be fast.”

  The guards tightened formation as they escorted him down the corridor toward the lift. The echo of

  armored boots faded into the hum of the ascending platform.

  The upper floor of the coordination tower felt different from the rest of the facility, colder, more sterile.

  The walls shimmered faintly with contained resonance fields, their light bending softly as if under

  pressure. The center of the chamber held a single reinforced chair, part restraint, part scannerm

  surrounded by cables and concentric rings of silver conduits.

  Councilors Rhell and Virk stood on opposite sides of the console array. Jouk stood behind them, arms

  folded, watching in silence as Bash was guided into the chair.

  “Remove your weapons,” one of the guards instructed.

  Bash unbuckled the harness and laid his knives carefully on the tray beside him. They pulsed faintly

  red before dimming to neutral.

  Virk’s gaze was sharp, predatory. “Activate the Nexus field.”

  The rings around the chair began to spin, first slowly, then faster, each layer glowing in sequence until

  the air shimmered with visible distortion. Streams of data projected upward, biometric patterns, armor

  composition, equipment registry.

  Below, the world was already roaring.

  The crowd cheered as Calen stepped into the center of the Alpha Ring, his Resonance Bow

  materializing in a swirl of wind essence. His Greaves stirred faint gusts around his boots, keeping him

  weightless and poised, while his Airstream Focus Band shimmered faintly with every breath he took.

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  Across from him stood Surg.

  The Reincarnate’s armor was dense and gleaming, its mineral plating reflecting the arena lights like cut

  glass. Lightning coursed faintly over his gauntlets, crackling up the seams of his arms. His expression

  was calm, confident, the look of someone used to being at the top of the chain.

  The announcer’s voice carried through the chamber.

  “Surg- Green Reincarnate, Mineral/Lightning/Durability/Essence versus Calen- Brown Novarch, Wind.

  Begin.”

  Wind roared the instant the signal flared.

  Calen vanished in a burst of motion, a cyclone of air carrying him sideways across the field. His bow

  drew back mid-sprint, the string pulling from pure resonance. The first arrow struck Surg’s barrier

  dead-on.

  It shattered into sparks.

  Surg’s mineral plating barely dented, absorbing the impact like stone against wind. Lightning arced

  down his arm in response, and he raised his hand. A blast shot forward, turning the air itself into an

  ionized weapon.

  Calen ducked and rolled, landing light on his feet. The wind shifted direction behind him, cushioning

  his movements. He fired three arrows in rapid succession. They hit Surg’s mineral shell, each one

  deflected by a flare of shimmering light.

  He was fast, but not faster than the counter.

  Surg moved through the storm calmly, letting the lightning around him build, layer after layer. Each

  time Calen fired, the electric current thickened, feeding off the charged air. When he swung his arm, the

  energy snapped forward like a whip, exploding against Calen’s shoulder.

  Health: 100 → 88%.

  Calen didn’t flinch. He drew another shot, this one spinning with a tight spiral of compressed air. The

  arrow hit the shield, and cracked it. Just a sliver. Enough to make Surg raise an eyebrow.

  The Reincarnate charged. Every step turned the arena floor to glass beneath his feet. His mineral shell

  expanded, hardening with each movement until he looked more fortress than man.

  Calen retreated in arcs, sprinting and firing, sprinting and firing, using every bit of mobility his Greaves

  granted. Arrows screamed through the air in clean lines of white light, each one bending the wind

  around it. The impact detonations rolled across the ring like muffled thunder.

  Surg advanced through it all, shrugging off each hit as dust gathered around him.

  Health: 98%.

  Calen gritted his teeth, sprinting sideways. He fired again, using the rebound from the last arrow’s

  detonation to vault into the air. The wind surged upward, carrying him above the battlefield. He drew

  once more and released a rain of arrows, a downward torrent that lit the field with streaks of white.

  Surg raised both arms, his lightning flaring to full intensity. A dome of mineral energy formed around

  him, flickering as bolts leapt from its surface. The barrage hit the dome and dispersed harmlessly, the

  reflected energy bursting outward in concentric ripples.

  Calen hit the ground hard, rolling through the blast zone. He was breathing fast now, the rhythm of his

  resonance flow near its limit.

  Surg didn’t give him time to recover. The Reincarnate launched a final assault, his entire body shrouded

  in mineral plating, lightning streaming behind him like a comet trail. The impact struck square against

  Calen’s guard and sent him flying.

  He skidded across the field, sparks kicking up from his armor. His health bar plunged 61% to 34%,

  then 19%, then 10%. The Nexus barrier shimmered to life just as Surg raised his arm for another strike.

  The system cut the match instantly. The containment field encased both fighters in blue light.

  “Match concluded. Winner: Surg.”

  The crowd erupted again, some cheering, some booing, most stunned at the raw imbalance between

  their abilities. Calen pulled himself upright, grimacing as the barrier dissipated. His bow dimmed to a

  soft glow as he slung it over his shoulder.

  Surg approached and offered a brief nod. “You lasted longer than most would have. Respect that.”

  Calen exhaled and nodded back. “And you were exactly what the record said you’d be.”

  Surg’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile before he turned and walked off, the mineral plating

  around him dissolving back into fine dust.

  Up on the viewing deck, Rixor’s arms were crossed, face grim. “He had the worst matchup possible.”

  Taren nodded. “Mineral against wind is bad enough. Add lightning and durability, and he never had a

  chance.”

  Nyra leaned forward, eyes following Calen as he walked toward the exit. “Still, he made him work for

  it.”