NOVEL NEXT Chapter 64: A Mask Begins to Crack
The North Station Spar Arena stood proud beneath the open sky, its rooftop a wide expanse that allowed daylight to flood the bustling crowd of spectators. The air vibrated with anticipation, a palpable mixture of tension and excitement as the chatter of merchants, businesspeople, and commoners interwove into an endless hum.
The arena itself was a marvel of rugged craftsmanship, a hexagonal stage bordered by six-foot-tall walls of raw concrete rocks and stones, weathered by countless battles. Its ground, a blend of cemented granite layered with five inches of thick soil, bore the scars of clashing warriors.
Suddenly, a figure sliced through the atmosphere like a streak of light. Hung soared into view, his six wings unfurling majestically, their white feathers glinting like molten silver in the daylight. He hovered mid-air, his presence commanding and almost celestial.
The lively din of the crowd faded into awed silence, their gazes locked onto the spectacle above. Hung carried in his right hand a mechanical sphere, a seamless fusion of metal straps and glowing yellow crystals. The sphere, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat, was clearly a speaker designed for such grand announcements.
Raising the sphere to his mouth, Hung's voice thundered across the arena, amplified and clear. "Good morning, everyone!" His tone was a perfect blend of authority and warmth, drawing cheers and applause from the enraptured crowd. "As you all know, today marks yet another of our highly anticipated sparring events!"
The audience roared in approval, their clapping swelling like rolling thunder. Hung continued, his voice brimming with theatrical enthusiasm. "And now, our first participant, a name that echoes across the Aqua Astro Station, Nyxander!"
The moment his name was announced, a ripple of energy swept through the arena. Merchants and businesspeople who had gathered specifically to witness this event erupted into cheers, their voices rising in overlapping waves of applause and murmured admiration.
The right wing gate of the stage groaned as it lifted slowly, the sound reverberating like the toll of a bell. A figure emerged from the shadows within. Nyxander stepped forward, his movements unhurried yet firm, each step carrying a quiet strength. His gaze swept across the spectators, his demeanor calm but tinged with intrigue at their unbridled enthusiasm.
Hung's voice rang out once more, his hand gesturing dramatically toward Nyxander. "And he is known by many as the Phantom Altruist!"
Nyxander froze mid-step, his expression flickering with bemused disbelief as his gaze snapped to Hung. His usually bright face darkened slightly, his thoughts unspoken but evident. "When did I ever get such a name?" he muttered under his breath, his tone a blend of confusion and reluctant acceptance.
As he continued to the center of the stage, his gaze instinctively shifted toward the spectators. Among the crowd, he caught sight of Lumina and Seraphina entering the arena, their movements deliberate as they wove through the seats. A smile tugged at his lips as he locked eyes with Lumina, but something else caught his attention, a figure radiating an undeniable aura of brilliance seated directly in front of her.
The energy emanating from this man was suffocating yet refined, like a raging inferno contained within a crystalline vessel. Behind him sat Seraphina, Dunstan, and Centric, their positions reinforcing the gravity of the figure before them.
"So that's the North Astro Lord," Nyxander concluded silently, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto the man's gaze. In that single moment, an unspoken duel unfolded. Though neither moved, countless blows were exchanged in their minds, a silent clash of will and power. The North Astro Lord's lips curved into a knowing smile, but Nyxander turned his attention back to Lumina, who remained a source of calm amidst the storm. His smile returned as their eyes met.
Beside her, Seraphina noticed the exchange and immediately frowned, her expression as petulant as a child denied her favorite toy. Nyxander's grin widened, teasingly playful, in response to her childish display.
The crowd's cheers were still resonating when Hung's voice sliced through the noise like a blade. "And next, from the Flame Astro Station, Kal!"
A new wave of excitement rippled through the arena, particularly among a group of fiery spectators who stood out from the rest. Kal's supporters, a mix of his teammates and ardent admirers, erupted into jubilant cries, their voices a roaring inferno of loyalty and pride.
The left wing gate of the arena began to lift, the grinding of its mechanisms heightening the tension. As the gate rose fully, Kal's figure was revealed, stepping into the sunlight with a confident swagger. His large, imposing sword rested obediently across his back, its polished surface catching and refracting the sunlight in dazzling streaks.
Kal strode forward with arrogance etched into every movement, his aura blazing like a wildfire. He paused briefly, turning toward his supporters with a guttural scream of triumph, his voice igniting their fervor. They roared in response, a wall of sound that shook the arena.
Then, with deliberate precision, Kal turned his attention to the North Astro Lord. He bowed low, his movements imbued with respect, before straightening. The North Astro Lord acknowledged him with a wave, his gesture regal and restrained, signaling Kal to proceed.
Kal walked toward the center of the stage, his piercing gaze locking onto Nyxander as he took his place. The arena plunged into a momentary silence, the tension almost suffocating. The breeze swept across the stage, whispering secrets as it carried with it a spiraling veil of dust that danced around the fighters' feet, as though the stage itself awaited their clash
"System," Kal commanded, his voice resonating like the crackle of kindling before a blaze. As he stretched his arms and clenched his fists, a vivid red holographic display flickered to life across his eyes, displaying his data like a declaration of intent:
[Name: Kal - (Vassal of God of Flame)]
[Race: Celestial Race - (Immortal)]
[Age: 20 years]
[Stage: Ascendant Realm]
[Celestial Core: Immortal Core (50/50)]
[Bloodline: Flame Immortal Lineage]
[Weapon: Flame-Heat Duality Sword]
[Skill: Infernal Edge]
[Techniques: Flame Surge Dash / Blazing Shield Formation]
""Hehehe." Kal's laugh slithered through the tension-filled arena like the hiss of a serpent. His voice, low and sinister, reverberated as he unsheathed his massive blade with a theatrical flourish. The sword gleamed under the sunlight, each edge reflecting its menacing duality. The virtual system flickered to life once again, its ominous glow casting eerie shadows across Kal's face as new data emerged.
[Flame-Heat Duality Sword: A sword forged successfully from two distinct primordial bones, though the bones have lost 40% of their original energy.]
"Finally, the day has come to remind you of your place," Kal snarled, his words dripping with venom. His expression twisted into a cruel grin as the virtual interface blinked out of existence. Raising the sword high, he let its brilliance dance in the daylight, a beacon of his arrogance and power. He broke into a loud, maniacal laugh that echoed through the arena, sending ripples of unease through the crowd.
Nyxander, standing across the arena, watched the spectacle with a calm exterior, his eyes steady and unwavering. Beneath his composed demeanor, however, his mind was in motion, a storm of thoughts briefly interrupted by a familiar, otherworldly voice.
"Master." The word resonated softly within Nyxander's mind, not spoken but transmitted telepathically, carried by the fabric string tethered to his heart.
"Hmm, Nullpoint," Nyxander replied in his thoughts, his inner voice tinged with curiosity. "It's rare to hear from you. Is there a reason for this sudden intrusion?"
"Not exactly urgent," Nullpoint's voice responded, smooth and deliberate, "but I've been observing the weapon wielded by your opponent. After observing the weaponry of others within this realm and after you facing their leader, I've confirmed that these blades are forged from primordial bones. For example, the sword in his hand was forged using two bones from primordial beings of different clans. Although these weapons have lost much of their original properties, you should exercise caution, especially since you cannot fight him at full power."
The revelation made Nyxander's gaze harden as it locked onto Kal's blade. "From what you've said, it explains why the two sides of the blade appear distinct, one side darker than the other," he mused telepathically. His tone grew colder. "So, this is the reason behind the kidnapping of primordial infants."
He fell silent for a moment, the weight of the truth settling heavily on his shoulders. Then, as if rallying his thoughts, he spoke to Nullpoint again. "Considering these weapons are crafted from the bones of newborn primordials, they shouldn't be overwhelmingly powerful against me. Especially since, as you said, they've already lost most of their energy."
Nullpoint, however, rejected his optimism. "Master, it seems you underestimate the essence of your own race," it said, its tone unwavering and factual. "Unlike others, every part of a primordial's body is inherently alive. This means that primordial beings do not need external methods to absorb energy, every fiber of their being does so on its own, even if separated from the main body. A severed piece will continue to draw in energy, growing stronger over time."
Nyxander's brows furrowed, confusion clouding his mind. "Then why has this sword lost its energy? Even if severed, wouldn't the bone have continued absorbing essentia energy?"
"Based on my hypothesis," Nullpoint began, its voice calm but tinged with intrigue, "I believe the forgers of these weapons must have noticed this phenomenon. Primordial bones do not yield to forces weaker than themselves, so they likely found a method to drain their essentia energy during the forging process. By doing so, they were able to reshape the bones into weapons. However, the forged bones retain their primordial nature and will, over time, begin to reabsorb the lost essentia energy, gradually restoring their power."
This revelation ignited something within Nyxander, a smoldering flame that threatened to erupt into an inferno. His gaze, once measured, now burned with determination as it fixed unwaveringly on Kal. The sword in Kal's hand was no longer just a weapon but a symbol of stolen life, of desecrated innocence.
The heavy silence that had draped the arena like a shroud was abruptly shattered by Hung's booming voice. "Since both participants appear ready, let the spar begin!"
The announcement sliced through the tension like a blade, and the arena erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Spectators leaped to their feet, their voices raised in chants of encouragement, their excitement igniting the very air. Each cheer was a declaration of loyalty, each clap a demand for blood and glory.
As the fighters stood their ground, the tension descended once more, settling like a dense fog over the stage. The breeze whispered through the arena, carrying specks of dust that swirled lazily around the combatants' feet, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation of the clash to come.