SSS Rank Dragon Tamer: Unleashed

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Note: Next 7 chapters are old chapter, Need some time (few days) to update. Dealing with some problems.

"Rapid Fireball, spread!" he yelled.

Star exhaled three quick comets, one after another. Leopard dodged first, second clipped hind leg, third detonated near Basilisk's jaw— scale cracked; the creature reeled, smoke cloaking its face.

Ayan's smile thinned. He flicked a signal bead— the audience side panel lit "Bet window closed"—then fed a crimson tonic to a rune in his gauntlet. Illegal? Gray zone at best. The gauntlet veins glowed bright, funneling surge to both beasts.

Varis caught the glow. Eyes narrowed. "Mana overdrive inject, file for review."

Bragg only grunted, "Smart lad— buy judges later."

Boosted, the leopard moved twice as fast, darting in broken dash patterns that defied prediction. Basilisk shook off fire, slammed tail; shockwave rippled sand like water. Zephyr's calves trembled absorbing the force.

He clicked tongue— signal they'd practiced: stage switch.

Star dove under the basilisk tail, let it pass overhead, then sprung to rake soft under the throat. Claws pierced scale gap; sulphur blood sprayed. But the leopard chose that instant to lunge for Zephyr's exposed flank.

Staff met jaws… impact jarring his arms to the elbow. Vampiric shadow energy leeched along the shaft, numbing his fingers.

Up in the stands, Fenna's breath caught. Aurora flared bright and a small ring flash that pulsed as a visual cue.

Zephyr saw it. He knew Fenna had tracked the leopard path from above. He pivoted the staff tip scraping runes to ground current discharging a blinding spark at his feet. Leopard recoiled, hissing, vision seared.

Judge Nola scribbled Coordination +1.

But Ayan shouted, "Phase KILL!"

Shadow Leopard's pelt turned smoke; it seeped into the ground, an advanced shadow prowler trait rarely seen in rank D beast. A hush fell, the beast invisible even to heat sense.

Ayan raised his arms, grandstanding. The crowd roared with bloodlust.

Zephyr's system flashed crimson:

[Phase Ambush timer 4 s → 3 s…]

He inhaled slow, time stretching.

"Star—Infernal RING—ground burst, radius two!"

Star stabbed claws into sand, channeled. A circular wave of white hot flame slammed outward along ground level, turning the surface glassy. For an instant every grain glowed.

A cat-sized distortion shimmered mid ring. The leopard re-materializing too slowly.

"Got you."

Star pounced.

Claws met fur and arcane hide; twin bodies tumbled, spitting flame and shadow smoke. Leopard screeched; drake roared; arena's front rows leaned forward screaming.

The Basilisk, half blinded, thundered to intercept— Zephyr sprinted, wincing at shoulder cut, staff twirling to harry heavy tail.

Ayan's face twisted. He tossed another gauntlet bead— this one amber. Ground vents hissed loud; runes at floor rim pulsed amber instead of standard crimson. Judge Varis shot upright.

"He's bribed a stage rune override!"

Suddenly four vents erupted simultaneously, jets of super heated steam forming a cross pattern dead center, right where Star grappled the shadow leopard.

Zephyr's shout lodged in his throat. Steam and scalding sand swallowed the beasts; whiteout blinded spectators.

Time froze— a boy's worst nightmare unfolding behind a veil of killing heat.

When the plume thinned, two figures emerged inside blast radius:

Star on one knee, wings shielding head, scales blistered; Shadow Leopard limp beneath his claw— but not dead; still pulsing with stolen mana and rage.

Basilisk loomed behind, jaws yawning to snap at Star's exposed spine.

Zephyr launched himself —too far— feet barely catching traction.

Up in the balcony, Fenna knocked a quick-lime arrow—duel rules forbade outside interference, but her fingers tensed. She can't let Zephyr get hurt.

Judge Bragg leaned over rail, beard twitching: "If that Hollowback drops below 20 % health, kid loses probation and the duel."

Zephyr's heart hammered like forge hammers as Basilisk's jaws closed—

The blast of scald-steam had barely thinned when the Forge Arena's terraces erupted in overlapping currents of awe, dread, and greed:

Bookmakers' Row – Rune-slates flickered crimson and jade while scribes frantically re-etched odds.

Opening line: "Vaelor 1 : 5" had narrowed to "Vaelor 3 : 4" the very instant Star staggered through the plume clutching an apparently broken Shadow Leopard.

Whispers: "Did you see that Hollowback spin?" "Never mind—lava-boil damage; he'll fold on the next hit."

Brokers barked, "Last call on silver, not copper—eight-to-five, place it now!"

Lower East Bloc – Tib & Talla Section

Tib Grel, nose still swollen from yesterday's celebratory tumble, jabbed a stubby finger at the slate. "Put five whole silvers on the kid finishing right now!"

Talla Plumpett yanked his sleeve. "You clod! He's bleeding from three places—save your coin for supper!"

Tib swung an imaginary staff; Talla countered with a claw-hand parody of the Basilisk. They collided, spilled another vendor's flame-cider, and were promptly pelted with husks of roasted ember-corn. Laughter rolled down the row.

Royal-Seat Tier – Phoenix-Ring Delegation

Red-lacquered nobles murmured behind feather fans. Lady Vaelor—Ayan's aunt—sipped iced nectar, eyes thin slits. "Nephew is… showing off." Her companion nodded warily: "That Hollowback looks nothing like catalog drawings."

Another retainer whispered, "Wouldn't call it a Hollowback at all—plates shine like drake-lings." He was shushed; rumors were gold but heresy was brass.

Fenna stood at Balcony Gate-Three, knuckles white on the rail. Aurora perched beside her, feathers thrumming with sympathetic heat each time Star cried out. Luke checked the phoenix chick's vitals—they spiked whenever Zephyr took a hit, as if bond-sympathy ran both directions now.

Mira, goggles pushed to hairline, snapped open a collapsible spy-scope. "Star's left side blistering—if Zeph lets fire build inside those damaged plates, he risks flame-fracture."

Luke gave Star's health rune (projected in healer overlay) a grim look: 62 % and wobbling. "He'll do something reckless in the next thirty seconds. Have the burst-coagulant ready."

Uncle Arlen, flanked by spice merchants he'd strong-armed for prime seats, muttered, "Can't believe judges let Vaelor run dual-beast plus overdrive." He crushed a packet of mint in his fist, releasing sharp aroma to settle his nerves. "Come on, boy, forge."

Down in the pit Ayan pressed that second amber bead into his gauntlet socket—mana overdrive flux still pulsing. Crowds rarely noticed it was technically legal only once per match; a second surge danced along the razor edge of disqualification, but bribed heralds had mis-logged the first as "tactical flourish." Gold talked, statutes walked.

Ayan's grin bled contempt. "Show's almost over, feeder."

The Basilisk—empowered—shrugged off lingering scorch. Its dorsal spines glowed dull orange, reservoirs of molten pitch cycling toward its throat.

Shadow Leopard lay limp behind Star, but not dead; the beast's heart rune still flickered faint under black pelt. Ayan cast a glance: later he would punish the cat for weakness—if it survived.

Judge Varis noted the double bead flare, lips pursed. "One more infraction and we pause the match," he told the other judges.

Bragg spat onto the sand below. "Let 'em scrap; crowd loves bending rules."

Zephyr skidded to shield Star's flank, planting the Emberforged staff as a brace. Heat still shimmered off the stripe of blisters across his partner's ribs.

System Ping: Star Vital → 60 % | Pain Mitigation 30 %

He inhaled once, ignoring his own torn shoulder, and bellowed:

"Tremor—Wide Arc!"

Star slammed foreclaws into glassy sand, channeling internal magma into ground-shock. A cone of vibrating force spider-webbed toward Basilisk feet, cracking the fused topsoil. Micro-quakes buckled its stance, buying precious seconds.

But Basilisk answered with a roar that sounded like boulders grinding. Its barbed tail smashed a pillar of molten rubble off the arena vent, flinging red-hot shards. Zephyr spun staff, deflecting two; a third zipped past, grazing his thigh—leather hissed, fresh blood scent mingling with sulfur.

Crowd shrieked approval; slates recalculated odds: Vaelor 2 : 3, Valorian 5 : 4.

From behind, the wounded leopard phased half-corporeal, aiming fangs at Star's hindleg. Fenna saw it first, screamed across noise: "Behind you!"

Aurora responded: mini ring-flash—three-coin halo—right over leopard's head. Flash-blind for half-second, the cat hesitated. Star whipped tail, catching the predator across jaw; combined with burn damage, that was enough. Leopard collapsed unconscious, specter-smoke leaking from fur as shadow-core overloaded.

Official healer rune flared STABILIZE above the body—beast removed from play.

Judge Nola sighed relief: "One hazard down."

Ayan gestured an arrogant circle overhead. The Basilisk lumbered into central ring, spines bright white now, throat sacs bulging. Spectator temperature sigils spiked.

Zephyr mirrored step for step, feeling the rhythm the same way a blacksmith predicts hammer fall. Staff tip traced lines on sand—almost calligraphy: a repeat of training drills they nicknamed "Ember Glyph." Every swirl anchored a mental timer.

Star limped to his right, smoke curling from jaw, eyes locked on Basilisk's chest plates—the only patch not overlapped by tail curls.

Arena vents cycled, feeding fresh oxygen. Heat haze distorted vision; gamblers wiped sweat with kerchiefs even in shaded tiers.

System Advisory: Opponent Signaling Magma Vortex (cone AoE, 900 °). Recommend: vertical evasion + pierce counter.

Zephyr whispered: "Vertical to fifteen, Ember Lance on my mark."

Star's claw scraped acceptance.

Lower Rows – Tib screamed, "Fly, little Hollowback, FLY!" Talla, adrenaline high, shoved him just as he lunged; he face-planted into a vendor tray of molten caramel nuts—howls of laughter.

Merchants' Tier – A spice-broker hedging bets hired a scribe on the spot to draft a new food line: "Hollowback Heat Jerky – Taste the Upset!" He tossed two silver coins deposit.

VIP Pavilion – Lady Vaelor sniffed. "Nephew toys too long." Her steward murmured, "Contracts on the boy's storage ability already at nine signatures, my lady." She waved it off—if the boy died, contracts meant little.