Chapter 92: Aerion vs Garrick

The fight continued.

Emeric gave ground. Step by step. He was faster than Kaelor. More agile. But the man’s strength was overwhelming. Every strike sent shockwaves through Emeric’s arms. Every parry jarred his bones.

He couldn’t keep this up.

He needed to end it.

Kaelor lunged. Emeric didn’t dodge.

He raised his blade and blocked the strike, parrying it sideways.

The man was annoyed perhaps.

The blade passed by his side—close enough to tear his tunic—and he caught Kaelor’s wrist with his left hand. Twisted. The man gasped behind his helm.

Emeric drove his right fist into Kaelor’s chest.

The red armor buckled.

Kaelor flew backward. He hit the ground. Rolled.

But Emeric was already there.

He grabbed Kaelor’s helm. Slammed it into his own knee. Once. Twice.

The helm cracked.

Kaelor roared. He threw Emeric off—a massive, desperate shove. Emeric flew backward. Hit the wall. Slid down.

Kaelor rose. His helm was broken. His face was visible now—scarred, twisted with rage. He threw the helm aside.

"You’ll pay for that," he growled.

He charged.

Emeric pushed himself up.

His body screamed. His ribs ached. His vision blurred at the edges.

He reached for his belt.

He unsheathed his sword.

The blade emerged from the cloth.

It was beautiful. Dark steel. Veins of silver running through it like lightning. The hilt was wrapped in black leather. The pommel was a single, perfect gem—deep blue, pulsing with faint light.

The crowd gasped.

Kaelor stopped.

"What is that?"

Emeric didn’t answer.

He raised the sword.

They clashed.

Steel met steel. The sound was deafening. Kaelor’s greatsword against Emeric’s blade. The impact sent shockwaves through the arena. The crowd screamed.

Kaelor attacked. A flurry of strikes—fast, brutal, relentless. Emeric parried. Dodged. Countered. The sword moved in his hands like it had always been there. Like it was an extension of his arm.

Kaelor swung. Emeric ducked. Drove his blade into Kaelor’s side. The red armor cracked. Blood welled.

Kaelor roared. Swung again. Emeric dodged. Came up inside his guard. Slashed across his chest. The armor split. Blood sprayed.

Kaelor staggered back.

"You—" he gasped. "What are you?"

Emeric didn’t answer.

He attacked.

The fight continued.

It was brutal. Relentless. Both warriors were bleeding. Both were exhausted. Both refused to fall.

Kaelor was slowing. His strikes were weaker. His movements sluggish. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Emeric was slowing too. His arms were heavy. His legs trembled. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

He thought of Isolde. Her face. Her smile. The promise he had made.

He fought.

Kaelor lunged.

A desperate, final attack. His greatsword swung in a wide arc—a killing blow aimed at Emeric’s neck.

Emeric didn’t dodge.

He raised his sword.

The blades met. The impact sent shockwaves through the arena. The crowd screamed.

Emeric pushed.

Kaelor’s greatsword shattered.

The pieces flew. Kaelor stared. His hands were empty. His face was pale.

Emeric drove his sword into Kaelor’s chest.

Not deep. Just enough.

Kaelor fell. Hit the ground. Didn’t move.

The crowd erupted.

Emeric stood over his fallen opponent.

His body was broken. His ribs were cracked. His arms were numb. Blood dripped from a dozen wounds.

But he was alive.

He had won.

He raised his sword.

The crowd roared.

He walked back toward the tunnel.

His legs trembled. His vision blurred. But he didn’t fall.

He was halfway through the tunnel when he saw her.

Vespera Pendragon.

She stood in the shadows. Watching him. Her expression was unreadable.

"You unsheathed your sword," she said.

Emeric stopped.

"I did."

"Why now?"He looked at her.

"Because I had to."

She studied him. Her eyes were sharp. Calculating.

"You’re stronger than I thought."

"Thanks."

She smiled. It was a small thing. Barely there.

"We’ll meet in the arena. Sooner or later."

"I know."

She turned and walked away.

Emeric watched her go.

He returned to the inn.

The inn keeper was behind the counter. She looked up when he entered.

"My lord. You’re hurt."

"I’m fine."

"You’re bleeding."

He looked down. She was right. His tunic was soaked with blood. His own.

"I’ll live."

She didn’t look convinced. But she didn’t push.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Tea. And bandages."

She nodded. "I’ll bring them up."

He climbed the stairs. Found his room. Sat on the bed.

He unsheathed his sword. Looked at it. The dark steel. The silver veins. The pulsing gem.

What are you?

He didn’t know.

But he would find out.

---

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[QUARTER-FINALS — COMPLETE]

[OPPONENT DEFEATED: KAELOR THE CRIMSON]

[TIER PROGRESS: 42% → 48%]

[COMBAT EXPERIENCE GAINED]

[STRENGTH: 76 → 78]

[AGILITY: 74 → 76]

[MANA: 71 → 73]

[DP AWARDED: +25]

[CUMULATIVE DP: 3733]

[DEVOTION LOGGED: ADVANCING FOR TARGET]

---

He had advanced.

The Semi-Finals awaited.

---

The next battle was about to start.

Emeric arrived early. His body still ached from the fight with Kaelor. His ribs were bandaged. His arms were sore. But he was alive. He had advanced.

Today was the Semi-Finals.

Two matches. Four warriors.

He watched.

The announcer’s voice echoed across the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The Semi-Finals begin! First to the arena—the S-rank Vessel! The undefeated champion! Garrick Finn!"

The crowd roared.

Garrick walked into the arena. Tall. Broad. Scarred. His expression was cold. Calculating. He carried no weapon. He didn’t need one.

The announcer continued.

"And his opponent! A prince of the Elven Court! A master of the arcane! Aerion Vaelthorne!"

The crowd roared again. Louder this time.

Aerion walked into the arena. His silver hair was immaculate. His robes flowed like water. His expression was bored. Arrogant. He carried no weapon either.

He didn’t need one.

This was good. He couldn’t deal with both of them at once so it made sense if they took each other out or one of them gets defeated.

The signal sounded.

Aerion attacked first.

Fire erupted from his fingertips—a wave of flame that roared across the arena. Garrick didn’t dodge. He charged through it. His skin smoked. His clothes burned. But he didn’t stop.

He reached Aerion. Swung his fist.

Aerion vanished.

Garrick’s fist hit empty air. He stumbled. Spun. Aerion was behind him. A blade of ice formed in his hand. He slashed at Garrick’s back.

Garrick twisted. Caught the blade on his forearm. The ice shattered. He grabbed Aerion’s wrist. Twisted.

Aerion’s eyes widened.

Garrick drove his fist into the elf’s chest.