Chapter 304: Ariel’s Fight [4]

Chapter 304: Chapter 304: Ariel’s Fight [4]

The sixth fighter stepped onto the arena floor.

He was a young man, barely twenty, with a round face and trembling hands. His armor was standard Iron Mountain issue, dark-iron plate with bronze trim, but it hung loose on his frame.

He was scared. Ariel saw it in his eyes—the tremor of a man who knew he was outmatched. She didn’t relish the fear, but she couldn’t afford mercy either.

The gong sounded, its deep resonance echoing across the arena, signaling the start of another bout.

She steadied her breath, the cool metal of The Trident grounding her resolve. She would not be gentle, but she would not be cruel.

The young man raised his spear, his stance wide and defensive. He was waiting for her to come to him, hoping to catch her with a counter-thrust.

Ariel didn’t advance.

She spun The Trident once, and a spiraling water whip coiled around the shaft, a vortex of compressed liquid that hummed with pressure.

She snapped it forward.

The whip shot across the arena, a twisting serpent of water that moved faster than the eye could track. It wrapped around the young man’s spear, yanking it from his grip.

His eyes went wide.

The whip coiled around his waist, and Ariel flicked her wrist.

He flew off the stage.

He landed in a heap among his sect brothers, his armor clattering against the stone floor. He was unharmed, but his face was pale, his pride shattered.

Grand Marshal Vane raised his hand.

"Winner! Ariel Aquaria of the Azure Dragon Sect!" the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena.

Twenty seconds.

Six wins.

Zero losses.

The arena erupted into a roar, the crowd rising as one to shower her with cheers and applause.

The crowd was on its feet, roaring her name. They had come expecting a slaughter, a bloody tournament of broken bones and shattered dreams.

Instead, they had witnessed a masterpiece.

A lone girl, a blue-haired princess with a trident, had single-handedly dismantled an entire sect.

And she wasn’t even breathing hard.

Or so they thought.

Damon’s eyes narrowed.

He saw the slight tremor in her hand, the way her shoulders rose and fell just a fraction faster than before. She was hiding it well, but the strain was there.

Six consecutive fights.

Each one against a Heavenly Spirit Realm cultivator.

Each one requiring precise control of her water energy.

She was running low.

The Iron Mountain dugout parted.

A figure stepped forward, a man so large that he seemed to block out the sun.

He wore heavy dark-iron plate, the metal scarred and pitted from countless battles.

His helmet was a solid slab of steel with a narrow visor, and his shoulders were broad enough to carry a boulder.

He was their captain.

Boulder-King Gorn.

He stepped onto the arena floor, and the stone cracked beneath his weight.

He didn’t walk so much as he moved, each step a deliberate, crushing advance.

He stopped at the center of the arena, his gaze sweeping across his fallen sect brothers.

Gorn’s voice rolled across the arena like an avalanche, each word heavy with contempt.

"Pathetic."

He let the word hang, savoring the silence that followed.

"Six of you. Six fully trained warriors of the Iron Mountain Sect. And a single girl—a slip of a thing who barely reaches your shoulders—brought you all down like common rabble."

He shook his head slowly, the gesture more damning than any insult.

"You’ve disgraced our sect."

The words struck like a physical blow, and Damon saw several of the fallen cultivators flinch, their faces turning red with shame.

But Gorn wasn’t done.

He turned, the movement sending a shudder through the cracked stone beneath his boots, his massive frame rotating with deliberate, crushing finality.

His eyes burned through the narrow visor of his helmet, fixing on Ariel with an intensity that would have made lesser cultivators retreat.

She didn’t flinch.

Damon watched her, his golden eyes tracing the subtle signs of exhaustion she was hiding.

The slight tremble in her fingers as they tightened around the shaft of The Trident.

The controlled rise and fall of her chest, each breath measured, conserved. She was running on fumes now, her spiritual reserves nearly depleted after six consecutive battles.

But her gaze was steady.

She met his contempt with calm defiance, her vivid blue eyes clear and focused, the mark of a true warrior who refused to show weakness even when her body screamed for rest.

Gorn’s lips curled beneath his visor.

He saw her exhaustion.

He saw her defiance.

And he intended to break both.

She met his gaze, The Trident steady in her hands.

"Then prove you’re better."

Gorn’s lips curled into a cold smile.

"I intend to."

He raised his hand, and his gauntlet glowed with a faint brown light.

Damon saw it.

A flicker of movement beneath the gauntlet, a tiny shard of crystal that Gorn crushed between his fingers.

Gravity-Spike Talisman.

An artifact.

It multiplied the gravity around a target tenfold, crushing them into the ground, slowing their movements to a crawl.

It was illegal in tournament combat.

But Gorn didn’t care.

He was desperate.

Ariel’s eyes widened as the gravity field slammed into her. Her boots cracked against the stone floor, the pressure forcing her to her knees.

Her breathing turned ragged.

The spiritual energy she had conserved was gone, drained by the sudden weight pressing down on her body.

Gorn lunged.

His executioner’s blow came down, a massive overhead strike that would have crushed her skull if it landed.

Ariel couldn’t move.

She was pinned.

Damon’s hand shot out, his fingers curling into a fist.

He was ready to intervene.

But Grand Marshal Vane was faster.

His eyes flared through his visor, a cold, piercing light that swept across the arena.

He had detected the talisman.

His hand rose.

A bolt of blood-platinum energy gathered at his fingertip, ready to execute Gorn on the spot.

But before he could release it, Ariel’s body erupted with light.

A deep, ocean-blue radiance bloomed from her chest, a spectral glow that pulsed with the rhythm of the sea.

Her hair lifted, floating as if underwater, and her eyes turned silver.