CHAPTER 30: THE STORM APPROACHES
516 Words
Klein stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his combat gear. Black reinforced clothing designed to withstand high-level System Bearer combat.
His Corrupted Dragon Scale gauntlets gleamed in the morning light. The Chaos Anchor Ring sat on his finger.
He pulled up his status one final time:
STATUS:
Name: Klein Slash
System: Divine Archfiend System
System Level: 15
System Grade: S
Mana: 2,500
Attributes: Chaos
Title: Storm's Inheritor
Three months ago, he'd been Level 13. Now he was 15, with enhanced equipment and refined skills.
It still didn't feel like enough.
A knock on his door. "It's time," Seris called.
The Titan's Fist guild had chartered a transport to take Klein and his supporters to the arena.
Boomer, Seris, Raze, Marcus, Finn, Mara, and even old Adonis...all coming to watch.
"You look ready," Adonis said, gripping Klein's shoulder with a weathered hand.
"I hope so, Gramps."
The arena was on neutral ground...a massive facility built specifically for high-level System Bearer combat.
As they approached, Klein saw thousands of people streaming toward the entrance.
"This is being broadcast worldwide," Raze mentioned. "Millions will be watching."
Klein's stomach churned. He'd never fought in front of an audience this large.
Inside the preparation area, a Council representative reviewed the rules:
"Standard Honor Combat. Fight continues until one combatant surrenders, loses consciousness, or dies. Killing is discouraged but legal. Medical teams standing by. Any questions?"
Klein shook his head.
"Your opponent has arrived. You'll enter the arena in ten minutes."
After the representative left, Klein's team gathered around him.
"Remember," Seris said, "don't let him establish his frozen zones. Keep moving, keep him reacting to you."
"Watch for his True Winter state," Boomer added. "When his aura turns pure white, that's when he's most dangerous."
"And breathe," Mara said, taking Klein's hand. "Just breathe."
Klein closed his eyes, centering himself. He'd trained for this. He was ready.
He had to be ready.
The ten minutes passed too quickly.
"Klein S'roar," the announcer's voice echoed through the facility, "please enter the arena."
Klein walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing. Light grew brighter ahead.
Then he stepped into the arena proper.
Twenty thousand people packed the stadium. Cameras hovered on all sides. The noise was overwhelming...cheers, boos, chanting.
Klein blocked it all out, focusing on the figure entering from the opposite side.
Drake Winters looked exactly like his recordings.
Tall, silver-haired, wearing elegant ice-blue armor that seemed to radiate cold. His eyes were the color of frozen lakes, and his expression was utterly calm.
They met in the center of the arena.
"Klein S'roar," Drake said, his voice like frost on glass. "I've heard much about you."
"Drake Winters."
"My nephew was foolish to attack you," Drake continued. "But you were excessive in your response. Twice. This fight is about teaching you restraint."
"This fight is about you defending your family's honor," Klein replied. "Let's not pretend it's about lessons."
Drake's expression didn't change, but Klein saw his eyes harden slightly.
The referee stepped between them. "Combatants, are you ready?"
"Ready," Drake said.
"Ready," Klein echoed.
"Then... begin!"
Drake moved first.
- Writer
