Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 290: Tournament [12]
The arena floor was still being swept clean of debris when Kieran stepped into the ring.
His opponent, a stocky Iron Talon fighter, was already waiting, arms crossed, a confident smirk playing at his lips.
Alaric watched from their area, his arms folded as he leaned against the cool stone wall. The noise of the crowd was a constant drone. His eyes tracked Kieran’s movements, the slight adjustment of his stance, the way his fingers flexed once before going still.
"He’s tense," Verelia observed from beside him, her voice as composed as ever. "But he’ll manage."
Alaric didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the arena floor, analyzing. Down 0-2. Three fighters left. We need every single victory now.
"What a spectacle, folks. Silver Crown, our reigning champions are on the brink of defeat. If they lose this match, it will mark the end of their era."
The professor’s voice rang across the arena.
"Is this the birth of the new powerhouse!"
The crowd cheered.
"Kieran Draveris vs Goran Steelhand! Take your positions... And."
"Begin."
The fight erupted with explosive force. Goran lunged forward, his fists wreathed in earth essence that hardened his skin to stone-like density.
Each footfall sent tremors through the arena floor.
But Kieran was already moving.
Whoooosh!
Wind essence burst from his form in a spiraling current, and he flickered to the side.
Goran’s fist hammered into empty air where Kieran had stood a heartbeat before.
"Too slow," Kieran muttered, his voice barely audible over the crowd’s roar.
He moved like water finding cracks in stone, fluid, unpredictable, always where his opponent wasn’t. Wind blades formed in his wake, invisible razors that whistled through the air with shrill, cutting shrieks.
Slash!
The first one caught Goran’s shoulder, drawing blood. The Iron Talon fighter grunted, pivoting to track his target, but Kieran was already elsewhere.
Slash! Slash!
Two more cuts, one across the ribs, another along the thigh.
"Stand still, damn you!" Goran roared, slamming both fists into the ground.
BOOM!
The earth erupted upward in jagged spikes, forcing Kieran to leap skyward. For a moment, he hung suspended, wind essence keeping him aloft, and in that instant, Goran saw his opening.
Earth essence coalesced in his palm, compressed into a dense sphere, and he hurled it upward with devastating force.
WHUMP!
The projectile shot toward Kieran like a cannonball.
But Kieran twisted mid-air, wind currents spiraling around him in a protective vortex. The sphere struck the barrier and deflected, not completely, but enough to reduce its momentum. It grazed his side instead of his chest, drawing a pained hiss but nothing more.
He descended in a controlled spiral, and as his feet touched ground, his hands moved in a complex pattern.
The wind in the arena shifted.
What had been chaotic gusts organized into a cyclone that formed around Goran with frightening speed. The Iron Talon fighter braced himself, essence reinforcing his body, but the cutting winds found every gap in his defense.
A hundred invisible blades, each one precise, each one drawing blood.
"Yield!" Kieran’s voice cut through the howling wind, sharp and commanding.
Goran tried to push forward, tried to break free through sheer brute force, but his essence was depleting rapidly. Blood ran from dozens of shallow cuts. His movements grew sluggish.
"I yield!"
Vash’s voice rang out. "Kieran Draveris Wins! Silver Crown comes back folks!"
The cyclone dispersed in an instant. Goran collapsed to one knee, chest heaving, blood dripping onto the sand beneath him.
Kieran stood straight, his breathing controlled despite the exertion. He offered no taunt, no celebration, just a respectful nod before turning to walk back to his side.
Silver Crown: 1 | Iron Talon: 2
Alaric pushed off the wall as the crowd erupted. One victory. Still not enough.
"Let’s get ready for the next fight folks. It’s none other than Alaric Glimor versus Thane Ironbrook!"
The announcement echoed through the arena.
Alaric stepped onto the ring.
His opponent was already waiting.
Thane Ironbrook was tall and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped black hair and a scar running through his left eyebrow.
One of Iron Talon’s reserve fighters. He wore light armor reinforced with essence-conductive metals, and his hands rested casually on the twin axes at his hips.
"Heard a lot about you, Glimor," Thane said, his voice a low rumble. "Let’s see if you’re worth the reputation."
Alaric didn’t respond. His expression remained neutral, almost bored, but his mind was already calculating, distances, angles, essence capacity.
---
In Iron Talon’s room. Caleb stretched. But his team leader grabbed his shoulder.
"You’re not in good condition!"
Caleb turned his head, "I am."
The leader sighed and then shook his head.
"You’re in bandages Caleb, I know you’re strong. But that is Verelia we’re facing in next round, and she hadn’t even broken a sweat."
Caleb clenched his teeth and turned around. "Do whatever you want."
---
"BEGIN!"
Alaric moved first in a blur of motion. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, flames trailing in his wake like a comet’s tail.
CLANG!
Thane’s axes came up in a cross-block, intercepting Alaric’s flaming punch. The impact sent sparks cascading across the arena floor, and the Iron Talon fighter grinned.
"Not bad—"
CRACK-BOOM!
[Static Shock!]
Lightning surged through Alaric’s other hand, already pressed against Thane’s exposed side and sent Thane staggering backward with a choked gasp.
Alaric didn’t let up.
He pressed forward, fire and lightning alternating in a brutal rhythm.
Thane’s muscles spasmed from the electrical current, but he gritted his teeth and swung one axe in a wide arc, forcing Alaric to leap back.
"You’re fast," Thane admitted, rolling his shoulder to work out the numbness. "But you’re not the only one who can adapt."
His essence flared and his axes began to glow. When he moved next, it was with surprising speed for someone his size.
WHOOSH-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
A flurry of axe strikes, each one aimed to cripple or kill. Alaric wove between them, his movements economical, almost dance-like.
He’s strong.
Fire burst from his palms to deflect one blade, lightning crackled along his forearm to parry another.
But Thane was relentless.
One axe hooked around Alaric’s guard and caught his shoulder—not a deep cut, but enough to draw blood. Pain lanced through him, sharp and immediate.
Alaric’s eyes narrowed.
Enough playing.
He gathered essence, both fire and lightning simultaneously, and the air around him began to distort. Heat shimmered in visible waves. Electrical charges danced across his skin, making his hair stand on end.
"What—!" Thane’s eyes widened.
Alaric thrust both hands forward.
[Ding!]
[New Skill Unlocked:]
[Voltaflare!]
KABOOOM!
