SHATTERED REALM: FORGOTTEN ECHOES-Chapter 164: When His Eyes Turn Dark
"Artifacts..." Aramith said as if he was tasting the word.
"So you’re confused?" Aramith tilted his head."Halfway through the fight... You stopped hitting me. You were hitting a clone."
Utter.
Silence.
"Did you not question why the body couldn’t keep fading properly?"
Eryndor opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎
I thought that meant he was dead.
"And you were too uncontrolled to notice me sitting here. All I had to do was control my breathing to mask my presence, something anyone with proper discipline can do."
Mozrael frowned. His aura is unstable...
No one could make a sound.
"Who is he?" Serephene asked from her high seat.
Elira looked as baffled as Erynodor.
She couldn’t make sense of this. She was sure she could see Aramith clearly, but how did he suddenly...
"I don’t know him," she replied to Serephene. But she now wanted to know who that boy was.
"Therin..." she whispered.
Eryndor stared at Aramith as if he hadn’t heard correctly.
"A... clone?" he repeated, voice cracking.
"You were too emotional," Aramith said quietly."I got bored."
A collective shudder rolled through the arena.
Bored?
With that fight?
Mozrael was unsurprised. She’d noticed a while ago.
Sylvia smirked faintly, having absolute trust in Aramith.
Rynelle’s stomach dropped.
The Keeper’s face lost all color.
And Eryndor’s rage flared hotter than his flames.
"You—YOU’RE LYING! What artifact are you using?"
He swung his arm, trying to summon another blast, but nothing came.
The air sputtered. Flames refused to form. Even the frost wouldn’t gather.
He coughed up blood.
His last attack had taken a huge toll on him.
The crowd panicked.
Aramith took a step forward.
"Artifact?" He shook his head like Eryndor was a child. "It’s called skill. You’re no match," he said.
Eryndor stayed still, concentrating his strength on recovery.
Aramith’s voice was calm and gentle. And if one were to focus enough, there was a hint of regret in it.
"This duel is already over. There is a clear winner, but I’m not done with you."
Eryndor’s knees nearly buckled.
It wasn’t the words.
It was the absolute certainty behind them.
"I still have to teach you a lesson, since you won’t accept defeat so easily."
He approached Eryndor and raised his hand to grab him, but just as he gripped Eryndor’s shoulder, Eryndor’s instincts flooded every cell of his body, and he shot back like a cat cowering in fear, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Crack.
Eryndor’s entire arm went numb, shoulder dislocated. He collapsed to one knee, gasping.
Aramith turned around and walked to the other end of the stage.
"You’re going to lose," he said softly.
The crowd held its breath.
Aramith stopped at the edge of the stage.
"And it’s because you never considered the possibility..." his eyes drifted back for only a second,"...that someone like me existed."
The arena exploded into whispered fear.
"I’ll use you as a warm-up," Aramith said and proceeded to perform a few stretches.
Before anyone could even process what Aramith meant, a faint tremor ran through the arena floor.
It wasn’t Youm, and it wasn’t an attribute.
It was pressure—pure, physical presence pressing outward.
I can finally test myself freely.
Students near the stage instinctively stepped back.
A few gasped, and those closer even stumbled to their knees.
Eryndor felt it worst of all.
His breath hitched. His lungs squeezed tight. His heart pounded a sickening rhythm against his ribs as if trying to escape.
This aura... this is just him?
Aramith finished rolling his shoulder with a low exhale.
"Good. My body’s warmed up now."
He turned his head slightly, eyes half-lidded but terrifyingly focused.
"Stand properly."
Eryndor flinched. His legs refused. His body had gone cold from the inside out, and it wasn’t because of his bloodline.
This was pure, untamed terror
There was an explosion of whispers—fear, awe, disgust, denial, and disbelief rippling through the arena.
But Aramith didn’t care about any of it.
Aramith felt the blood under his skin blacken again for half a second, a shudder pulsing through his chest.
He rolled his shoulder, and Eryndor knew he didn’t have much time left.
Eryndor’s sputtering flame finally caught again—but only barely.Fear crawled under his skin as Aramith straightened and rolled his neck.
He didn’t utter a word.He just crouched and moved.
Aramith crossed the distance in a blink, leaving behind two craters where he had stood.His fist sank into Eryndor’s gut before the boy even saw him vanish.
THUD—!!
Eryndor’s feet left the ground, and his vision blurred for a second.His lungs emptied in a choking gasp.
"He—he didn’t even charge that!!"
"Was that physical strength alone?!"
Before Eryndor hit the floor, Aramith was already behind him.
CRACK—!!
A backhand slammed across Eryndor’s ribs, sending him tumbling across the arena like a rag doll. His flames flickered, ice sputtering uselessly.
If not for the fire and ice layered over his skin as a protective coating, he wouldn’t be able to move.
He scrambled up, eyes wild.
Block—block—block—!!
He threw up walls of ice, barriers of fire, shields of mixed polarity that cracked the ground, but Aramith burst right through them.
Every block he threw up was shattered like glass.Eryndor’s arms numbed from the impact of trying to stop even one strike.
He manifested an ice-dragon head to bite down and hold Aramith in place.
Aramith punched straight through its skull. "You should try to focus on defense if you want to survive."
The phantom exploded in a storm of shards.
"He’s breaking Drakemire techniques with PUNCHES?!"
Eryndor staggered back, building another defense.
Too late.
Aramith grabbed his wrist.
BAM!!!
He slammed Eryndor into the ground so hard the stone cratered.Before the boy could react, Aramith lifted him again.
BAM!!
BAM!!
BAM!!!
Three impacts that left three fresh craters.The spectators screamed.
Eryndor’s fire burst into panic, burning uncontrollably.
Aramith punched straight through the flames and struck his jaw.
CRACK.
The heat died instantly.
Mozrael’s breath hitched.
"...his eyes..."
