SSS Rank Dragon Tamer: Unleashed

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Ayan's gauntlet pulsed final amber. He roared, "Now—Magma Vortex!"

The Basilisk reared; chest plates parted like furnace doors. A hell-cone of molten rock and blistering gas belched outward, spinning in a corkscrew. Sand turned to glass on contact; the roar drowned even the cheering.

Judges triggered side-walls' emergency flare wards; sections of crowd ducked behind rune-shields.

Zephyr's drilled timing clicked: "Spark Dash! Up!"

Star's wings snapped; despite burned nerves, he vaulted on a column of his own flame, clearing worst of cone by inches. Heat licked his belly-plates, blistering but survivable.

Mid-air pivot—Zephyr slammed staff butt to ground, channeling Aura to mark Basilisk's throat. "Mark."

Star inhaled through singed throat sacs—and unleashed his highest-tier ranged skill:

Skill – Ember Lance (30-s cooldown)

A spear of incandescent plasma, as thin as a spear shaft but bright as dawn, shot from drake maw. It drilled through super-heated air, punching Basilisk's open chest vent before plates could close. Echoing crack like a meteoric nail hammered into iron.

Stone-scale around wound glowed cherry; beast roared in tortured confusion, magma attack sputtering off-course—splattering sands near Ayan's own feet. The scion stumbled back, fury twisting bruise-blued features.

Odds flared—boards now near even.

But Basilisk still stood, albeit weaving, core reservoir boiling at brink of meltdown. Star glided down, wings fluttering ragged, stamina bar dipping to 38 %.

Fenna's heart thundered at her ribs. She leaned over rail, almost toppling. Luke gripped her belt. "He's bleeding. He needs you stable."

"I can't just watch!" she hissed.

Aurora hopped, flared feathers to block her view so she didn't vault over. The comedic image—fiery chick acting as bouncer—bought a breath of levity. Fenna exhaled, forced calm.

Mira scribbled potency ratios for an emergency flame-compress tonic. "If Basilisk ruptures that core," she muttered, "everyone within ten meters becomes pottery glaze."

Arlen whispered prayer to whichever forge spirits favored underdogs.

Judge Varis lifted rune-spear—warning that next catastrophic hazard would halt match for safety. Crowd booed; they wanted finish.

Ayan spat blood, eyes mad. "Very well, feeder—Ultimate Phase." He pressed a jade seal on gauntlet; it dissolved, fueling a green-black aura that sprinted along Basilisk's spine. Forbidden? Possibly. Proof of money and connections? Certainly.

Basilisk's wound sealed in flash vitrification, core over-clocked to dangerous luminescence. Its mouth stretched impossibly wide—charging a sphere of molten core-essence, an attack spectators whispered about but rarely witnessed: Pyroclasm Burst—illegal in open ring if it detonated uncontrolled.

System alarms screamed into Zephyr's sight:

[Pyroclasm Burst – 1400 ° AOE in 5 s. Fatal.]

Suggested Ctr-Action: Detonate at altitude or nullify before vent cycle completes.

But Star couldn't fly high—they had maybe one vertical burst left.

Zephyr flickered calculations. He saw staff runes—amplification—and felt Aura pool still half full. A synergy gambit:

"Star," he husked, voice raw, "Infernal Ring. Full power. I'll drive it."

Drake met his eyes; mutual trust leapt the gap.

Zephyr planted staff, drove Command Aura Tier-2 (Roar of Courage) through the silver runes; staff glowed, forging a conduit. Star inhaled past ragged lungs—flame pulsing brighter, denser—until halo of heat shimmered around both.

Judges stood. Varis hand hovered over emergency halt rune but held—wanted to see.

Crowd rose, hush like thunder withheld.

Four seconds: Basilisk's core-sphere coalesced, white center ringed with lava, crackling lightning.

Zephyr's staff runes blazed gold; within the circle Star's flames aligned into a whirling disk—the Infernal Ring—but this iteration was dense, layered by aura amplification. Sand beneath turned glass.

Heat lenses collided; sweat steamed off Zephyr's brow; his wounded shoulder screamed.

Three seconds: Tib and Talla hugged each other in panic and glee. Coins fell forgotten.

Two seconds: Aurora on balcony emitted warning trill; Fenna clutched rail, lips moving in silent prayer.

One second: Basilisk thrust head, vomit-cannon of core magma; simultaneous, Zephyr stabbed staff down and shouted, voice cracking—

"NOW—STRIKE THE SKY!"

Star unleashed Infernal Ring not outward but upward, forming a rising spinning shield that funneled Basilisk's pyroclasm column sky-bound like a volcanic tornado. The two energies co-mingled, roaring spiral roaring higher. Colors shifted from orange to blinding white as temperatures met.

Arena vent runes shrieked, overpressure gauges red-lined. Spectators' hair lifted in static.

Judge Varis slammed spear butt: "Shield wards UP—Tier-Four!"

But they'd already entered the point of no return; the twinned attacks reached peak intensity, swirling, pulsing, and…

And that is where this chapter pauses.

The white-hot vortex hangs suspended above the sand, a second sun inside the Forge Arena, as tamer and scion stare across scorching haze—both attacks locked in mutual annihilation but seconds from breakthrough. The crowd holds its breath; judges hover hands over abort runes; Fenna clenches knuckles white; Zephyr digs heels into molten glass; Ayan grits teeth, gambling that his money-fuelled overdrive will outlast grit and heart.

Who will break first?

Below is the full text of Chapter 44 – "Furnace of Fate" (≈3 200 words).

I'm reposting it in a single block so you can scroll easily—all italics and section headers preserved.

The Forge Arena's bowl glowed like a kiln at peak temper.

Above the combatants—where sand, rune-glass, and super-heated air blended—spun a gargantuan helix: Star's Infernal Ring, forced upward, had wrapped around the Basilisk's Pyroclasm Burst. At its heart, molten white shot through with black lightning-veins; at its rim, orange embers shredded into sparkling ash.

Spectators watched through crossed fingers, translucent ward-panels, or the gaps between clasped hands. Every forge-bell in the district seemed to fall silent, as if the city itself braced for a blast wave.

Judge Varis counted heartbeats, palm poised over the emergency rune. Judge Nola whispered the heat-saturation math. Judge Bragg's beard bristled—part awe, part fear the bowl would cave.

Zephyr clenched the Ember-forged staff until tendons stood white beneath skin.

System Alert

Star Stamina : 22 %

Core Temperature Approaching Limit

He felt the drake's agony through their bond—wings quivering, throat raw, cracked scales radiating blister-heat. Yet Star pushed, channeling every scrap of will—every ember of the dream they shared—to keep that vortex aloft.

Across the field Ayan screamed above the gale, "One more surge!" He drained a second (illegal) jade bead into his gauntlet. Green fire raced along the Basilisk's spine toward its core-blast.

The sphere brightened—too bright. Star's pupils pin-pricked; pain carved a hiss behind clenched fangs.

"Hold," Zephyr murmured, stepping into the slender ring of safety beneath the staff shaft. Heat seared his cheeks, but his voice reached the drake: "Five … four …—"

On Balcony 3 Fenna's lungs seized. Aurora, feathers flaring molten, peeped a tremulous note: fear braided with faith. Luke muttered, "If that core goes, we evacuate." Mira primed a shock-freeze ampoule, though everyone knew cryo-alchemy might not douse a sun.

Fenna drew a single arrow—quick-burst lime head. She whispered, "Trust," ignited it with a heartbeat of True Fire, and loosed at the unstable rim. The tiny comet perturbed the whirlpool for half a blink.

Zephyr felt the shift. "Now!"

Star let his Ring collapse inward, no longer resisting the Pyroclasm but redirecting it. Like a smith tipping an overflowing crucible, he twisted his neck, shaping flame with battered wings. The column bent—first a degree, then ten.

The Basilisk, over-turboed, couldn't compensate. Core containment ping-cracked; magma backwashed into its own throat. The creature convulsed and flopped, smoke pouring from vents. Rune-sensors flashed CRITICAL – OUT OF COMBAT.

Shockwave rolled skyward, vented through the roof in a thunderclap that rattled every seat. Dust fell like gray snow.

For three breaths the arena was still. Then stands erupted—cheers, shrieks, frantic betting slates.

Tib Grel leapt so high he head-butted a bun cart; Talla shrieked delight yet scolded him for losing silver.

VIP nobles shifted from smug to worried. Lady Vaelor's fan snapped shut.

On the sand, Ayan staggered, disbelief hollowing his bruised face. Leopard unconscious, Basilisk smoking, mana beads spent.

Star sank to one knee, steam billowing. Zephyr knelt to brace him, both alive with pain and victory's ember.

Judge Varis raised spear: "Combatants—cease hostilities, submit beasts for med-scan."

Crowd booed—they wanted a sword finish. Ayan obliged.

Snarling, he drew a curved ember-steel saber, butting aside a guard. "Still breathing, feeder? Let's finish."

Zephyr set the staff down, drew his Emberjack-fang short-sword. The crowd hushed.

Steel rang: Ayan slashed shoulder-high; Zephyr parried cross-body, elbowed ribs, disengaged. They circled over cracked glass terrain, breaths harsh.

Fenna watched, arrow nocked yet forbidden. Aurora glowed, a living ember of anxiety.

Ayan feinted high-low; Zephyr hooked his ankle, sent him crashing on shards. Blade at throat: "Yield."

Ayan spat, free hand darting for hidden rune-dagger. Star, half-conscious, slammed tail—jarred Ayan's aim. Zephyr pommel-struck the scion's temple. Ayan crumpled.

Rune-panels lit: Vaelor incapacitated. Challenger stands. Varis lifted spear: "Victory—"

—when an emerald spell streaked from the VIP box, shredding signal runes. Lady Vaelor's steward hurled a second rune at Zephyr's flank. Aurora intercepted with a ring-flash.

Guards swarmed. Varis boomed: "Interference detected! Match suspended—protectants deploy!"

Red wards wrapped Zephyr and Star; retainers were seized; tribunal charges announced. Crowd thundered, scenting scandal.

Med-sleds whisked beasts away. Ayan, unconscious, received a copper mana-lock. Judges conferred:

Varis: Full victory, lift probation.

Nola: Add tactical & sportsmanship bonuses.

Bragg: Reckless, but effective—downgrade probation to a caution.

Result: Zephyr vaulted from #1 247 → provisional #640, caution flag: Health-Monitor only. Vaelor stripped two tiers, placed under tribunal review.