Chapter 372: Default to the Final

Chapter 372: Chapter 372: Default to the Final

The roar of the arena faded as Damon stepped out of the dugout and walked toward the recovery pavilion.

Selene followed close behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To see Fania."

Selene raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I want to know what we’re up against."

Damon moved through the corridor that connected the main arena to the medical ward, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

He pushed through the curtain that separated the recovery area from the main hallway.

The medical pavilion was a large tent erected at the edge of the arena complex, filled with cots and healing arrays and the sharp smell of medicinal herbs.

Fania lay on a cot near the center of the tent.

Her robes had been cut away, revealing bandages wrapped around her chest and arms.

Her skin was pale, almost grey, and her breathing was shallow.

An elderly healer knelt beside her, channeling spiritual energy into her damaged meridians.

The healer looked up as Damon entered.

"You shouldn’t be here," the healer said. "This area is restricted to competitors."

"I am a competitor," Damon said. "I came to check on my opponent."

The healer frowned but did not argue.

He returned to his work, his hands glowing with soft green light as he fed healing energy into Fania’s body.

Damon walked to the edge of the cot and looked down at Fania.

Her eyes were closed, but she was not unconscious.

She opened them slowly, her gaze meeting his.

"You came to gloat?" she asked, her voice weak.

"No."

"Then why?"

Damon was silent for a moment.

"I wanted to see the cost," he said. "Of what you did."

Fania let out a bitter laugh that turned into a cough.

The healer pressed a cloth to her lips, and when he pulled it away, it was stained with blood.

"The cost is everything," Fania said. "My meridians are burned. My bloodline is damaged. I won’t be able to cultivate for months. Maybe years."

"And yet you did it anyway."

"I had no choice."

Damon studied her face.

"There is always a choice."

Fania closed her eyes.

"Maybe. But I made mine."

She turned her head away, signaling that the conversation was over.

Damon stood there for a long moment, then turned and walked out of the medical pavilion.

Selene was waiting for him outside.

"Well?" she asked.

"She’s out," Damon said. "The Vermilion Bird Sect won’t be able to field her for the final."

Selene’s eyes widened.

"Then the Nameless Sect..."

"Will advance by default."

Damon walked back toward the main arena, his mind already shifting to the next challenge.

The hour passed quickly.

Damon sat in the Azure Dragon dugout, his eyes fixed on the empty arena floor.

Ariel sat beside him, her hand resting on his knee.

Mio and Mia stood behind him, their weapons ready.

Seraphina and Flare sat on the bench, their eyes closed, meditating.

Alena was mixing something in a small vial, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The crowd was restless.

They had come to see a fight, and they were about to get a forfeit.

Grand Marshal Vane stepped onto the arena floor, his presence silencing the murmur of the crowd.

"The second semifinal match," he announced, "between the Vermilion Bird Sect and the Nameless Sect, will not take place."

A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd.

"The Vermilion Bird Sect has officially withdrawn from the competition."

The murmurs turned into shouts of disappointment.

"Due to injuries sustained in their previous match, they are unable to field a viable team."

Grand Marshal Vane raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent.

"Therefore, by default, the Nameless Sect advances to the grand championship final."

He turned to face the Nameless Sect dugout.

Kael stood at the edge of the dugout, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Grand Marshal Vane’s voice carried across the arena with the weight of absolute authority, each syllable cutting through the restless energy that had been building since the forfeit announcement.

"The grand final will take place in 1 hour."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink into every corner of the massive stadium.

Thousands of cultivators held their breath, their earlier disappointment forgotten as anticipation ignited like wildfire.

"The Azure Dragon Sect versus the Nameless Sect."

He turned without another word and walked off the arena floor, his pristine robes billowing behind him like a banner of finality.

The echo of his footsteps faded into silence.

Then the crowd erupted.

A deafening roar of excitement, cheers, and shouted wagers crashed against the stone walls of the arena like a tidal wave.

The air itself seemed to vibrate with the collective energy of thousands of spectators who had come precisely for this moment—a championship clash between the established power and the mysterious newcomers.

Damon rose from his seat in the dugout, his muscles coiling with controlled tension.

He walked to the edge of the dugout and looked across the vast expanse of the arena floor at the Nameless Sect’s position.

Kael stood at the edge of his own dugout, arms crossed, his posture radiating an almost arrogant confidence. His dark hair stirred in the hot breeze, and his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—locked onto Damon’s golden gaze.

For a long, suspended moment, the world seemed to fall away.

They simply stared at each other across the empty battlefield, two apex predators circling before the kill.

The noise of the crowd faded into a distant hum, irrelevant to the silent war of wills being waged between them.

Then Kael’s lips curled into a smile.

It was not a friendly smile. It was the slow, deliberate baring of teeth from a predator who had finally cornered worthy prey.

There was hunger in that smile, and anticipation, and the cold promise of violence.

Damon did not return the gesture.

He simply inclined his head once, a single, deliberate nod that acknowledged the challenge without yielding an inch of ground.

It was the nod of a man who had faced worse odds and emerged victorious.

Then he turned and walked back into the shadow of the dugout, his harem closing ranks around him like a protective wall of steel and devotion.