"True strength is not in how hard you strike, but in who you choose to protect when you have the power to destroy."
The crowd roared as Arjun stepped onto the bloodstained stones of the arena once again, his sword glinting under the dim red lights that bathed the battleground. From the opposite gate, a figure emerged—Varnak, a speed-type demon known for blitzing his enemies before they could even react. As both warriors locked eyes, silence fell like a curtain. This fight would determine who would advance to the final—a clash of wills, strength, and speed.
Varnak vanished from view the instant the horn sounded, his presence a blur across the field. Arjun's eyes tracked every movement calmly, but within seconds, he found himself on the defensive. Sparks flew as his sword met a rapid barrage of strikes, his feet sliding across the dust with each parry. It was the first time Arjun had to move—truly move.
From the sidelines, Arsh narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp. "He's still only using 1% of his real power…" he murmured to himself, almost in disbelief. "Why is he still holding back?"
Inside the ring, Arjun exhaled through clenched teeth, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "Huff… I guess it's time to raise it to 5%," he said quietly, a flicker of something fierce igniting in his calm demeanor.
Suddenly, Arjun vanished.
A second later, Varnak staggered, a cut opening on his arm. Another flash—another strike. The audience couldn't even keep up with what was happening anymore. Arjun moved like a ghost, a whisper in motion, and each time he appeared, Varnak took another hit. The crowd gasped with each blow, and even Kriden, who watched from the upper stands, leaned forward with intrigue.
"That kid's got talent," Kriden said with a low, gravelly chuckle. "He might actually be a tough opponent."
Back in the ring, Arjun's sword hovered just inches from Varnak's neck. The demon, breathing hard and bloodied, could no longer move. With a final, fluid strike, Arjun knocked him out cold—no unnecessary harm, just pure precision.
The match was over.
The cheers erupted once more. Arjun, calm and composed, sheathed his blade as the announcer declared his victory. He had qualified for the finals.
The sun dipped behind black clouds as the final match approached. Dust swirled across the arena, and tension thickened like smoke. On one side stood Arjun, quiet and composed, sword gleaming with a thin layer of dried blood. On the other stood Kriden, the demon vice-captain, arms crossed, his crimson eyes unblinking. He had defeated many—humans and demons alike—and not once had he been pushed into a corner. Until now.
The horn echoed. Silence shattered.
Kriden moved first—his body bursting forward with a crushing shockwave as the stone beneath his feet cracked. Arjun braced, deflecting a powerful blow that nearly threw him off balance. This wasn't like the other fights. Kriden wasn't just powerful—he was precise, tactical, and his strikes weren't wild. They were made to kill.
The crowd leaned in, many holding their breath. Even Arsh stood still, fingers clenched tightly. "He's not taking it easy this time," Arsh thought, his eyes watching every exchange. "He's forcing Arjun to show more..."
Arjun ducked, twisted, and countered—each movement sharp as lightning. But Kriden was matching him blow for blow. Their speed shook the arena walls. Debris flew. A few moments later, blood was drawn—Arjun's shoulder had a gash. But instead of flinching, he smiled faintly.
"Hmph… I guess I don't have a choice anymore," Arjun whispered. "It's time for 10%."
His eyes glowed faintly. His body lightened. For a brief second, Kriden paused—his instincts screamed at him. And then it happened.
The entire arena trembled.
Arjun blurred into motion—a phantom slash here, a flicker there. Kriden swung with full strength, but he only caught wind and afterimages. Arjun's sword connected to his side, his back, and then shoulder—all in the blink of an eye. And still, Kriden wouldn't fall. He roared, exploding with cursed energy that cracked the stone around him, nearly knocking Arjun back. But the boy didn't stop. This was a clash between titans now.
Minutes passed—each moment feeling like hours. Each strike echoed like thunder. Blood spilled. Dust rose. Finally, with a surge of strength and speed so sharp it sliced even the air, Arjun landed the final strike—not fatal, but clean. His blade stopped at Kriden's throat.
Kriden's eyes widened... and then he smirked.
"Heh... you win, kid."
Silence… and then a roaring explosion of cheers.
The final was over. Arjun had won the tournament.
Covered in blood and sweat, he stepped forward as the demon announcer's voice echoed through the arena. "The human warrior... Arjun... is the victor of this tournament! He shall be granted his reward—one wish of his choosing."
Arjun didn't hesitate. He looked toward the cage where that silent human slave stood—the one who knew the truth about this village's past.
"I want him to be freed," Arjun said. "That's my wish."Even Kriden raised a brow, surprised by the answer.
Kriden stepped forward, a faint smirk curving across his otherwise stoic face. The crowd had quieted now. Only the crackle of torches and distant murmurs filled the arena.
"You want that person freed?" Kriden asked, his voice low but echoing. "That's your only wish?"
Arjun nodded firmly, eyes unwavering. "He knows the truth about this village. He doesn't deserve to rot in chains."
Kriden paused. Then, in a tone both amused and respectful, he said, "Very well… I'll grant your wish. But—" he raised a clawed finger, "—you've surprised me, human. Not many who stand here ask to free another. So, I'll grant you one more wish. Ask wisely."
Arjun glanced toward Arsh, then toward the arena sands where King Suyon had once stood valiantly. He closed his eyes for a second, thinking of the struggle, the fight, the reason that man bled in the first place.
"I want King Suyon to be freed from being a slave," Arjun said, voice steady. "Let him go… but give him enough gold—so he can protect his family and the refugees under him."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Even Arsh was stunned.
Kriden's eyes narrowed, reading Arjun's expression. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he gave a short laugh. "You're strange… just like him."
He turned to his guards. "Free the slave. Give the king ten sacks of demon-gold. Let his people live in peace. And from now on—" he looked back at Arjun, "—you're welcome to stay in this village for as long as you like. I will personally guarantee your protection. No demon here will lay a hand on you."
The slave was released—collapsing in tears. King Suyon, though still weak, bowed low as he received the gold. The humans in the crowd began murmuring, hopeful eyes lighting up for the first time in years.
Then, Arjun took a step closer to Kriden. "You said I could ask a question too, right?"
Kriden nodded.
"…What happened to Atharv's friend? The one who fought you back then and disappeared. Do you know where he is now?"
Kriden's smirk faded.
He looked up at the dark sky, silent for a moment.
"That… is a long story," he finally said. "And not one many dare to speak of."
His eyes met Arjun's again, and something in them flickered—a memory, maybe… or regret.
"But if you truly want to know, you'll have to dig deeper. That man was no ordinary fighter… and the truth about him may change everything you think you know about this war."
[End of Chapter 63]