Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 395: A Record-Breaking Finish

The final two barriers stood, their inscriptions steady and unyielding despite the relentless assault they had already endured. Mana coursed through the formations, showcasing the thought and care behind their designs. However, with a close eye, one could spot the excess sparks and troubles with the array lines. Lassim spotted these and his mind believed that either of them could potentially collapse in one or two more rounds.

The constructs realigned, batons shifting to prepare the next attack, the four constructs combined attack sequence.

Then, as if to mark the moment, Ilyara’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp with exhilaration, each word brimming with joy over what was unfolding under her watch.

"Folks, I don’t think you quite understand the magnitude of what’s happening here!" she declared, lifting a hand in exaggerated emphasis. The projection screens zoomed in on the two remaining competitors, "Let me remind you—before today, the longest anyone has lasted in the entire Sect’s history of this event was at +6 with a single construct!" She let that hang in the air, allowing it to settle over the crowd, as gasps and murmurs rippled through the stands.

"And yet! Here they stand!" She gestured grandly at the two competitors below, grinning as if she had personally orchestrated this moment herself. "Not one! Not two! Not even three! These absolute lunatics are still standing against four constructs, each attacking six levels above their individual cultivation levels! This is pure insanity! And you love to see it!"

The audience erupted, the realization fully sinking in. This was beyond historic. This was a new era being forged in real-time.

The constructs moved as one, their batons shifting into striking position, inscriptions flaring along their metallic limbs as they prepared to unleash their attack sequence. Lightning arced between their frames, coalescing into controlled surges of destructive mana, each strike calibrated with precise synchronization.

They struck.

Four batons descended in perfect unison, starting with the physically focused first attacks, seemingly overwhelming blows. The impacts seemed to have grown to a power of disruption to a strength that was a deliberate attempt to unravel every layered inscription at once, to dismantle the very foundations that had kept these barriers standing.

A pulse of lightning mana further enhanced the attacks, cascading outward, wrapping around the defenses like a tidal wave, sinking into every carefully constructed node. The defensive inscriptions reacted instantly, shifting in response, their creators pouring every last ounce of mana into stabilizing them. For a heartbeat, the barriers held.

Then the constructs adjusted for their second in the sequence of five unified attacks.

Their batons raised towards the sky, and the next impact followed without pause, forcing the competitors to further strain their mental load across multiple fault points. The stress on the barriers was immense.

A third strike landed, embedding destabilization pulses into the core structures of the arrays, forcing the mana within them to shift violently, threatening to rip apart their formations from the inside out.

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Then came the final blow.

The fourth unified and deadliest set of strikes landed.

It was unclear what failed first—a flaw in one of the mana circuits, a momentary delay in reinforcement, an external instability no one could see—but as the batons connected with unrelenting force, both barriers fractured in seemingly the exact same instant.

A ripple of shattered lightning runes on one hexagon platform flashed through the air, a cascading collapse of engraved and bent metal plates on the other, both fragments of their barriers spreading through the air. The barriers buckled, twisted, then detonated outward with a resounding rupture—two collapses perfectly mirroring each other, indistinguishable in timing.

And then, before the destruction and construct’s attacks could fully reach the disciples inside, both protective wards activated at once.

A burst of defensive mana surged around the competitors. Not only was it the light of the wards flaring at the exact same moment, but a wave of orange colored lightning seemed to wrap the two competitors, completely obscuring them from view for the span of a single breath.

For a split second, no one could tell who had fallen first.

The constructs halted, their directives complete, batons lowering as they stepped back into standby mode, their metallic forms humming softly as the arena returned to stillness.

Nothing moved.

For a heartbeat, there was only silence.

Then—

The coliseum erupted into chaos as the orange lightning dispersed and both contestants were completely unharmed and standing.

The cheers had barely begun when a deep, commanding voice cut through the uproar like a thunder’s boom.

"Enough."

The entire arena froze.

Sect Master Volten had risen from his chair.

His voice carried through the air easily as he spoke, enhanced by his mana to reach every disciple. His gaze locked onto the two disciples, still catching their breath, their bodies visibly shaking slightly from the explosions that just occurred. And yet, despite their exhaustion, they remained standing.

"Personal Disciples Ivarus Rattib under Elder Rythalos’ teachings, and Sana Armana under Elder Elln’s." He anounced their names with deliberate weight, as if etching them into history with every syllable. "You have rewritten our understanding of what new Personal Disciples can achieve as regular Spirit Warriors under great teachers today. You have surpassed the previous known limit, and yet, still pushed far beyond what was once thought impossible, and in doing so, you have set a new standard for our sect’s future participants in the Array Competitions."

A beat of silence followed where he just stood and smiled at the competitors.

Then, with finality, he looked towards the judges with a slight nod of the head before he declared, "My apologies Judges for usurping your process, but I think you will agree that this momentous occasion deserves no deliberation. Both disciples will receive a God’s Trial Token of their own at the award ceremony. Congratulations to your Elders as well"

The coliseum lost its mind.

The judges didn’t even get a chance to review or make a determination on whose of the two barriers broke first, leaving it a mystery.

It was decided—two first-place winners. But as the cheers roared, Volten lifted a single hand, and the celebration stilled.

He continued, "Since you have both earned the highest honor of this competition, you are now exempt from participating in the next event to allow the others a chance. Ilyara, you may continue."

The two Personal Disciples were all smiles, bowing deeply with neither protesting. They understood. This was the peak. They had already proven themselves.

Ilyara barely gave the coliseum a chance to breathe, her voice riding the waves of excitement.

"Well, well, well!" She threw her arms up, gesturing wildly toward the two competitors as the projection screens looped the last few moments of history being made.

"What an ending! What a trial! What an absolutely absurd display of perseverance!" She turned slightly, adjusting the lenses of her runic goggles to now rest back on top of her head, the glow of her inscriptions flickering. "I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to transition from that, but I suppose that’s why I’m here and all of you are listening to me, huh?"

The coliseum erupted in laughter and cheers, but Ilyara pressed forward with a suave charm and commanding authority.

"But! And I want you to really let this sink in—we are not yet finished!" Her voice rang out.

She turned toward the remaining competitors, those who weren’t whisked away for healing at least and had been eliminated in the endurance rounds, and lifted a single hand towards them. "You may have fallen before the final stretch, but let’s not forget—you weren’t just here to stand still and take a beating, were you?"

A deep rumble coursed through the arena as the hexagonal platforms began shifting, their battle-worn surfaces smoothing over, the damage from the previous trial erased as the inscriptions reformed into something new.

The coliseum was no longer the individual hexagons but moved to have small raised square platforms evenly spaced out, as if ready to display a series of art works in a noble’s gallery. The stage was now a grand exhibition.

The competitors who had collapsed in exhaustion, who had shattered bones or depleted their mana reserves, who had been flung from the competition in the most spectacular ways—they were all invited back into the arena. Well, at least the ones who were still capable of walking. Lassim noticed that out of the supposed 88 eligible competitors, a few were now being represented by Elders that each had a magic pouch in their hands as they stood with the Personal Disciples.

"Now, listen carefully," Ilyara continued, her voice leveling out into something both refined and dramatic, weaving her words like a storyteller preparing for the next grand reveal. "We have seen our competitors build. We have seen them withstand. But now—we shall see them show what they can do to innovate."

A flick of her hand, and the projection screens shifted once again, this time displaying previous champions of this very competition, their innovations etched into history, their construct designs now standard in sect defenses, transportation, and battlefield control. Lassim even recognized seeing a young Rlyis, not in her standard casual working attire but in Personal Disciple robes, at one point standing next to a construct she’d built that looked oddly like the advanced training dummies he’d seen in the various training grounds.

"This is the part of the competition where the visionaries rise." She paced along the elevated overlook, sweeping a glance over the competitors now stepping forward to claim their spot on the transformed platforms.

"In this final event, our esteemed judges," Ilyara gestured toward Elder Rlyis, Elder Eno, and Elder Sarrin, "will personally inspect the construct creations that our competitors have designed. They may be for combat. For general survival. Or for just a better future for all of us within the Sect that we call home."

She let that settle before continuing.

"Our esteemed panel will walk around the venue to assess these designs for functionality, craftsmanship, and—most importantly—their potential to be integrated into the Lightning Sect’s infrastructure. If they request for a demonstration, you are to follow their orders and present your work. That means the stakes are still very, very real! Not only will first place earn a God’s Trial token, but you may be rewarded with an order to supply the entire sect with copies of your construct—a very lucrative one, if I might add."

The atmosphere among the contestants brightened at the thought of winning both. Not everyone came from noble families and supplying the hegemony sect with your own construct was a generational level of wealth that could be passed back home.

Elders who had injured disciples took their place in the remaining open display spots, preparing to present the creations of their own who could not return. Among them was the Elder of the disciple who had gruesomely shattered both his forearms, who carefully retrieved the magic pouch to prepare to display the construct his disciple had worked on for two years leading up to the event.

Ilyara nodded in approval. "And let it be known! As you can see from the Elders present, it is the Sect Master’s wish that even those who were too injured to continue to this final stage—even those who defended until their very bones broke—will not be left behind in this final phase."

She clasped her hands behind her back, her smirk returning full force.

"So! Shall we begin?"