SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

Heavenly Phoenix Range…

The Sky Fire Arena loomed like a divine coliseum in the clouds. Its massive structure shimmered with silver runes and golden inscriptions that reflected the blazing sun above.

Unlike the previous round, where only a single aurora glass floated in the sky to display the duels, this time dozens of aurora glasses hovered across the horizon, each glittering like fragments of heaven.

These glasses were linked directly to the senses of the fighters—every twitch, spell, and strike would be displayed in real time from different points of view. The crowd roared with anticipation, thrilled that they could now witness battles from the very eyes of their chosen champions.

The stakes were higher. This was no longer simple dueling—it was a group massacre where only two would remain standing.

Millions of cultivators gathered around the arena, their floating cloud platforms layered like steps ascending to heaven. Some platforms were small and crowded with commoners who had saved for years just to purchase one ticket, while others were luxurious sky-pavilions belonging to great clans, draped with silken banners and filled with fragrant wines.

Private chambers hung like palaces in the air for the seven-nation syndicate leaders and the heads of the great gambling houses.

The golden banners of the Syndicate waved proudly. Everywhere, excitement mixed with greed as the gambling houses opened their final round of bets.

The gambling rates had already climbed to impossible odds. Because of Fatty Ben’s insane odds, others also increased their odds. But Kent still stood in number one place.

Now, because the crowd’s hatred after the previous round boiled over, the odds had inflated even further. Even ordinary beggars scrounged together copper fragments just to bet against him, hoping to strike fortune.

Among all the houses, the Golden Rat alone had poured half its treasury into this round, knowing that the syndicate itself took a 30 percent share of their profits.

Meanwhile, at the opposite cloud pavilion, a storm of fury brewed. Red Face, the head of the Gambling Association, stood in silence, a broken wine jug at his feet, his robes soaked crimson with liquor.

His eyes, bloodshot and hateful, locked onto Kent’s figure from afar. He had lost millions of mana crystals in the last duel because of Kent’s “cowardly” victory. His clenched fists trembled.

“This time, I will reclaim everything. Even if it costs me twenty million of my family’s wealth, that brat will die!” Red Face spat, his voice venomous.

–

Closer to the arena, the two hundred and fifty remaining disciples sat in their designated seats. Each group of ten was divided into corners. Kent, by virtue of ranking first, sat on the highest platform in the front row.

His seat gleamed with silver engravings, but Kent himself remained calm and detached. His posture was relaxed, his eyes half-closed, as though the chaos of millions around him was nothing but a distant breeze.

Around him, whispers spread among the competitors.

“Arrogant bastard, acting calm even now?” one sneered.

“Don’t forget, all nine in his group have already agreed. He will be the first to fall.”

“Hmph, let’s see how long he lasts when Ling Long and the others combine their attacks.”

Jealousy, greed, and killing intent burned from every gaze that fell on Kent.

The Sky Fire arena itself stretched vast like a full moon, its surface glowed with layers of immortal arrays.

Silver barriers rose along the border, forming a dome to prevent stray spells from harming the spectators. At each edge of the ring stood glowing boundary stones—if one was thrown outside them, it meant defeat.

The atmosphere shifted when the Sixth Elder of the Syndicate floated to the very center of the arena. His silver robe flared as his wand glowed with a golden sheen, amplifying his voice to every corner of the coliseum.

“Spectators of the Seven Nations!” his voice boomed like thunder. “We thank you for your presence today. Without your support, the Golden Heir Tournament could not shine so gloriously. On behalf of the Syndicate, I extend our gratitude!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, chants of clan names shaking the heavens. Updates are released by novel⟡fire.net

The elder raised his hand again. “Fighters! Today is the start of your group battles. You ten shall stand together in one arena… but only two shall remain.”

Tension flooded the seats of the competitors. Kent opened his eyes slightly, gazing at the elder.

“This is not a duel of honor, but of survival. You may use all your strength. Killing is permitted! However—” his eyes flashed with deadly coldness—”I warn you. Fight fairly. Should anyone resort to underhanded means outside the spirit of battle, my punishment shall be swift and severe. Even your clan names will not save you.”

The declaration shook the disciples. Several clenched their fists, but none dared challenge the elder’s authority.

Then came the part that made the crowd roar in astonishment.

“As this is a group fight,” the elder declared, “your pets may be used without limit!”

The coliseum gasped as the words spread like wildfire. Pets—powerful beasts bound to one’s soul—were terrifying weapons. Most disciples could only manage three or four, while legends might control the full limit of ten. Allowing pets into the arena meant absolute chaos.

On the sidelines, Fatty Lambu burst into booming laughter, his entire body shaking.

“Ahahahaha! Now it begins! They think no one has more than ten? They don’t know my Kent King, ah, they don’t know!” His greedy eyes glittered like gems, already imagining the upheaval to come.

The elder lifted his wand high. A spear of golden energy shot into the heavens, exploding in a thunderous boom. Celebratory fireworks of flame and lightning spread across the sky, illuminating the faces of the millions watching.

“Now!” His voice was like a divine bell. “Names have been called, places chosen! Fighters—take your corners!”

Ten figures rose one after another, flying to the edges of the colossal arena. Each stood at a marked circle, eyes fixed on one another. Kent stepped lightly into his eastern corner, his robe fluttering, his black hair streaming like ink in the wind. The mockery of the crowd grew louder as he arrived.

“Hah, the coward came!”

“This time, no running away!”

“He’ll be crushed in the first breaths!”

Yet Kent’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes as calm as still water.

Ding Han stood opposite direction to Kent and Rina Lova on north side. All of them stood at edges of the Arena.

The nine other disciples glared at him, their combined killing intent forming a suffocating pressure. Each one was prepared to unleash spells the moment the elder’s command fell.

The world seemed to fall into silence. Millions held their breath, gamblers tightened their fists, and even the aurora glasses flickered with anticipation.

The Sixth Elder raised his wand one final time. His eyes swept across the ten fighters, his voice shaking the entire arena:

“Then… let the battle begin!”

–

Get Ready for a One-Man-Show guys!