Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 288: Tournament [10]

"WINNER... RENNICK VALOR! IRON TALON DRAWS FIRST BLOOD!"

The Iron Talon section erupted. They’d actually taken a match off Silver Crown!

Silver Crown: 0 | Iron Talon: 1

Medical staff rushed in. Damien was helped off, alive but clearly out of the tournament.

In the Champions’ Room, the atmosphere shifted. The confidence dimmed fractionally.

"We’re down one," Kieran observed unnecessarily.

Verelia added. "We have four fighters. They still have fresh ones."

Professor Vash’s voice boomed. "Now, next contestents enter the ring!"

"I guess it’s my turn now." Elina stood up and gone towards the ring. Her expression was set, not angry, but determined. They’d lost the first match. That couldn’t happen again.

Her opponent emerged from Iron Talon’s platform and the crowd’s murmur intensified.

He was massive, six-foot-five, but built like he’d been carved from granite. Dark skin marked with what looked like old burn scars that formed patterns across his arms and neck. His eyes were an unsettling orange-red, almost glowing.

And when he stepped into the ring, heat radiated from him in visible waves. The air shimmered. The arena floor beneath his feet began to blacken from sustained temperature.

Magma affinity?

Rarer than standard fire and even more dangerous.

Professor Vash’s voice carried excitement. "Match Two! ELINA GLIMOR versus DRAKE VOLCANIC!"

Drake rolled his shoulders. Magma began forming around his forearms like gauntlets. The heat was so intense that protective barriers flickered, essence channeling to reinforce them.

Elina planted her feet. Golden essence coating intensified, spreading from her fists up her arms, across her torso. More coverage than she’d used in any previous match.

They stared at each other across the ring.

Then came Professor Vash’s voice: "BEGIN!"

Drake moved first.

Magma burst from his feet like a geyser, propelling him forward with volcanic force. His fist came at Elina’s head.

She blocked with golden-coated forearms.

The impact cracked like thunder. Force plus searing heat. Elina’s coating held but the shockwave drove her back three feet, boots scraping the arena floor.

Drake didn’t stop. His other fist came in, magma dripping, each drop burning holes in the arena surface.

Elina ducked under it, golden essence flaring brighter as she countered with a body blow to Drake’s ribs.

Her fist hit what felt like stone. Drake’s torso was reinforced with cooled magma, creating natural armor.

Drake grinned. Grabbed her extended arm.

Heat seared through her golden coating.

Elina hissed in pain, jerked back but Drake’s knee came up, aiming for her stomach.

She twisted desperately, took it on her hip instead.

The impact lifted her off the ground. She hit the arena floor hard, rolled, came up favoring her left side.

The crowd was on its feet.

Drake advanced methodically. More magma forming, this time creating flowing streams around his body like living serpents.

"Your form is pretty," Drake’s voice was deep, resonant. "But manga melts everything."

Elina spat blood, wiping her mouth. "Then I’ll just have to hit harder than you can burn."

She charged.

Golden essence exploded around her entire body now, not just coating but radiating. She was pushing more power than she’d ever used, accepting the essence drain because she needed to end this fast.

Her fist came in like a battering ram.

Drake blocked with magma gauntlets.

The collision sent shockwaves through the arena. Protective barriers flared. Some spectators in front rows flinched from the released energy.

Elina followed with a combination. Left hook, Drake blocked. Right uppercut, Drake deflected. Spinning back fist.

Connected. Drake’s head snapped to the side at the clean hit.

But he was already countering. Magma whip formed from his arm, lashing out and caught Elina’s shoulder.

The burning cord wrapped once, twice.

She screamed. The heat was agonizing, burning through coating, searing flesh.

Then Drake pulled, using the magma whip to yank Elina toward him.

His fist met her mid-flight, a strike to the stomach.

All air left Elina’s lungs. She doubled over, gasping.

Drake’s knee came up, catching her chin.

She flew backward, hit the barrier wall, slumped down.

The crowd gasped. Medical staff moved toward the ring entrance.

Elina’s hand slammed down on the arena floor. Golden essence pulsed.

She stood. Slowly. Blood dripping from her mouth, shoulder burned badly, ribs probably cracked.

But she stood.

"Not... done..." she gasped.

Drake’s expression didn’t changed. "You’re tough. I’ll give you that."

More magma formed. This time creating a sphere that floated above his palm. Compressed. Dense. Radiating heat that made nearby air molecules vibrate visibly.

"But tough isn’t enough."

Elina’s golden coating flickered. Her essence reserves were depleting fast. The burn on her shoulder was affecting concentration. Her body was screaming to yield.

Can’t lose. Already down one match. Can’t afford two.

She pushed more essence into her coating. Found reserves she didn’t know she had. The golden light intensified.

Drake hurled the magma sphere.

It came at her like a meteor.

Elina’s fist came forward to meet it.

The collision was catastrophic.

Explosion of force and heat. The protective barrier cracked, something that wasn’t supposed to be possible. Professors in the stands immediately channeled essence to reinforce it.

When the blast cleared, both fighters were still standing.

Barely.

Drake’s magma coating had dispersed from the energy expenditure. His arms were burned from the backlash.

Elina’s golden coating was flickering, nearly transparent. Her right fist was badly burned despite the protection.

They stared at each other across smoking arena floor.

Then Drake moved.

Elina met him halfway.

They traded blows. No technique. No elegance. Just desperate violence.

They separated, both breathing hard.

Drake spat blood. "You’re good. Better than I expected."

"You too," Elina admitted.

"But I’ve got more in me." Drake’s hands came together.

Magma began forming between his palms. It was compressed, folded in on itself multiple times, creating a projectile that was maybe the size of a fist but radiated heat that made the air scream.

"Volcanic Core." He murmured.

Elina’s eyes widened. She tried to generate more golden coating.

Nothing. Her reserves were gone. She’d pushed too hard, burned through everything in that last collision.

She was defenseless.

Drake’s expression was almost apologetic.

"Sorry. You fought well."

He released the compressed magma projectile, shot forward like a bullet, faster than any previous attack.