The Beastbinder's Ascension

The gong struck, and the arena gates parted wide.

"Quarterfinal Match Four! Team Seven versus Team Thirty-Seven!"

The coliseum roared with anticipation. On one end, Tristan Graves strode forward with a swagger that made the crowd chant his name before the battle even began. His cheetah padded silently at his side, ember-black fur glowing with crimson runes. Beside it floated his second beast—the Wave Crasher Serpent. Rainbow scales gleamed under the sun, its body coiling with the promise of crushing force. Fire and water, predator and predator, united under Tristan's hand.

On the other side, Kai's team emerged. Shelldon lumbered forward and slammed its claws into the ground, summoning hexagonal runes of defense. His teammates lined up behind.

Kai's jaw was set, his eyes sharp despite the tremor in his hands. "Form up. Shelldon—Anchor Protocol! Wall, now!"

The Crabling rooted itself, glowing runes digging deep into the arena floor. A barrier flared around the squad, shimmering blue.

Tristan smirked. "Cute." He raised a hand lazily to his teammates, "Stand aside, this is mine. Zoom. Scylla. Break them!"

As his teammates stood down, the cheetah blurred forward, a comet of flame tearing across the sand. At the same time, Scylla reared up, water condensing in its throat before blasting forward in a Hydro Laser. Fire and water, opposite yet harmonious, crashed against Kai's barrier. The wall splintered instantly, shards of light cascading like broken glass.

Kai staggered, coughing from essence backlash. "Reinforce! Don't break formation!"

The alchemist hurled a vial—when it shattered, a green mist wrapped the winged feline, its wings beating stronger as it dove into the cheetah. Silver claws clashed with burning paws, sparks flying. For a heartbeat, the feline held the predator at bay.

Then Zoom's Heat Veil shimmered, flames distorting the air. The feline's strikes slowed. One burning claw sank deep into its wing. A scream, a flare of silver—the beast and its handler were gone.

"One down," Tristan said with a grin.

Kai's lips trembled, but he barked again: "Shelldon—Stone Spike! Target the serpent!"

The ground erupted beneath Scylla, jagged rock skewering its coiling body. The serpent hissed, scales splitting—then water burst outward, dissolving the stone in an instant. Scylla lashed its tail, summoning a Spiral Torrent that caught the hawk-spirit mid-dive. The bird screeched as it was dragged into the vortex, vanishing with its handler.

Two.

The vinebeast lashed wildly, dozens of tendrils whipping toward Zoom. For a moment, it looked like a net—until Scylla's water surged through, softening the vines. Zoom burst free, flames trailing. A single swipe of its claws severed the Vinebeast in half. Its handler collapsed, essence backlash flaring.

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Three.

Kai stumbled back, the Crabling quaking beneath him. "No—Shelldon, anchor harder!"

Shelldon's runes burned brighter, its shell glowing with desperate fortification. For an instant, the barrier returned, shielding Kai and the last fighter.

The crowd gasped—hope, maybe?

Tristan raised his hand lazily, eyes glinting. "End it."

Zoom blurred forward again, claws slicing through the reformed barrier like parchment. At the same time, Scylla's Hydro Laser slammed into the Crabling's shell, cracks spreading across the plates. Shelldon screamed, light flickering, until the entire shell split with a deafening crack.

Kai's chest seized as backlash ripped through him. His knees buckled as Shelldon vanished in silver light.

Four.

The last fighter tried to scream a command—but Zoom was already there. A single strike. Gone.

Five.

Silence. Then the crowd roared.

"Victory—Team Seven!"

The stadium shook as chants of Tristan's name thundered through the air.

"A one versus five!"

"That guy is one of the green potentials in this batch."

"I think we should recruit him in our strand."

From the projection chamber, Aston's fists clenched white.

—

The dust had barely settled when the referee lifted his hand.

"Victory—Team Seven!"

The roar of the crowd shook the arena, Tristan's name echoing again and again until it felt like the air itself vibrated with his arrogance. Tristan turned once, lifting his chin, firelight dancing off the runes of his cheetah. Scylla slithered behind, coils rippling with menace, as if they had merely stretched their bodies rather than fought.

Kai's team was already gone, whisked away in silver light. Their absence left a hollow ache in Aston's chest as he watched from the projection. His friend had stood bravely, but bravery had not been enough. Not against Tristan.

The referee's voice cut across the noise. "All quarterfinal matches have concluded. The winners who advance to the semifinals are—Team One, Team Eleven, Team Twenty-Five, and Team Seven!"

The coliseum erupted again, a blend of cheers and murmurs. Each team's name carried its own weight: the unshakable army cadets, Aston's rising underdogs, the calculating artificers, and Tristan's blazing dominance.

A steward entered the arena carrying a polished wooden chest. From it gleamed crystal lots, each inscribed with a number. The rules were the same as the singles: pairings would be decided by chance.

"Representatives of each team," the announcer declared, "step forward and draw your battles."

From Team One, their captain, tall and disciplined, drew first. "Number Two."

From Team Eleven, Marcellus stepped forward, jaw set as he plunged his hand into the chest. The crystal pulsed in his palm. "Number One."

A murmur swept the stands—Team Eleven versus Team One. The army against Aston's group.

The alchemist captain drew next. His gauntlet clicked as he pulled free a crystal. "Number Three."

That left Tristan. He strode forward with a smirk, not even glancing at the chest as he drew. "Number Four."