The gates of Norveil Capital stood higher than mountains. They glittered in the sun, carved with the symbols of the allied kingdom, Majinwa's serpent crest, Aspher's twin moons, Norveil's wolf frozen mid-howl. Beneath them, thousands of people moved like a living tide: vendors shouting, soldiers patrolling, banners snapping in the wind.
Kairo had seen wars, cities burned to the bone, skies turned red by blood.But he had never seen a place so… alive.
Riven whistled beside him. "If you told me this many people could exist in one place, I'd have called you crazy."
Lyn smiled faintly, clutching her lute case. "It's like the heart of the world beats here."
Kairo looked ahead. The Specter Heart pulsed once, faintly, almost in agreement.
They passed through the gates. The air changed, filled with roasted spices, laughter, and the dull clang of blacksmith hammers shaping destiny. Every alley sang with some rhythm, music, shouting, or prayer.
"This way," Riven said, gesturing toward a massive structure at the city's center.
The Grand Arena. It was older than memory, built of white stone streaked with veins of silver, said to hum when touched by true mana. From afar, it looked like a crown placed upon the earth.
Inside, the registration hall was chaos, fighters from every kingdom crowded the lines, each marked by their homeland's colors. Norveil's soldiers were easy to spot, cloaked in dark fur and steel.
Kairo crept to the counter.
"Name?" the clerk asked without looking up.
"Kairo of Norveil."
The clerk blinked, then straightened. "...The ghost of Norveil?"
"I don't know that name."
"Oh, you will," the clerk muttered, handing him a crystal orb. "Infuse your heart's mana into this. It'll record your reserve and sync your body for combat monitoring."
Kairo pressed his hand against it. The crystal glowed pale blue, then flickered dark silver before shattering.
The clerk stumbled back. "W-What"
Kairo turned. "It's enough."
Outside the hall, Riven caught up with him. "You broke their machine. Again."
"Maybe it was weak."
"Or maybe you are."
Kairo gave him a small look. For the first time, Riven didn't joke back.
"You're really going to do this, huh?"
"Yes."
"You could die."
"Then I'll die standing."
Riven sighed and punched his shoulder lightly. "Then stand tall, ghost."
Lyn stepped forward, her eyes soft. "Don't let it take you."
"It already has," he said quietly. "I'm just learning to walk with it."
By afternoon, the tournament grounds roared with life. Tens of thousands filled the seats. The five kings sat high above in a circle of thrones, each bearing their nation's crest.
Trumpets blared.
The announcer's voice carried through the wind: "Today begins the Grand Tournament of the Norveil Kingdom! To decide those who shall rise as the Divine Force.
The crowd erupted.
Kairo stepped into the sunlight. His boots met stone scarred by countless battles. Across from him stood his first opponent, a knight in gold and crimson armor, sword wreathed in flame.
"Ser Calden of Norveil," the announcer declared."Versus Kairo of Norveil."
Riven and Lyn watched from the stands, hearts pounding.
Calden saluted. "I've heard the stories, Norveil ghost. But even ghosts can burn."
Kairo unsheathed his blade. "Then I will burn you with me."
The bell rang.
Calden moved first, fast, faster than Kairo expected. His sword cut through the air, flames trailing behind. Kairo ducked, side-stepped, struck once, but the knight blocked and countered with a blazing kick.
The air turned molten. The arena floor cracked.
Spectators gasped as Kairo skidded back, frost forming where his boots touched.
He exhaled slowly. The Specter Heart pulsed once, twice, and the air shimmered cold. Steam hissed where their powers met, fire and ice colliding until even sound bent between them.
Calden grinned through his helm. "Impressive… but how long can you keep that heart beating?"
"Long enough," Kairo whispered.
He vanished. One moment there, the next, behind Calden. His sword carved a streak of silver through the flame, cutting the knight's pauldron clean.
The knight laughed. "Frost magic this dense… it eats your own life force, doesn't it?"
Kairo said nothing.
"You'll freeze yourself before you freeze me!"
"Then I'll die warm," Kairo murmured and stepped forward into the blaze.
The explosion shook the arena. When the smoke cleared, Calden lay unconscious, his armor fractured, frost blooming over the cracks.
Kairo stood in the center of the storm, breathing slowly, his sword buried in the stone. The frost spread outward, then melted.
The announcer hesitated, then shouted: "The victor—Kairo of Norveil!"
The crowd roared.
But Lyn, watching from above, saw what no one else did: Kairo's hand shaking. Blood ran down his wrist, freezing mid-air before it could touch the ground.