The President's personal assistant, Johan, stared at his leader's pale face beneath the arena's light. The thunderous beating of dragon wings above them made the very air tremble.
In a gentle yet steady voice, he spoke.
"We can still do this, Sir. I truly believe that."
The President slowly turned toward him, his eyes reddened with despair.
"But it summoned a dragon, Johan! You know it yourself! Even our missiles couldn't pierce its scales!"
Johan drew a long breath. A faint smile appeared on his face—not arrogance, but the cold confidence of someone certain of his answer.
"I know who can, Sir. But allow me to make one suggestion. For the stage itself, let me negotiate directly with The Ancient One and Libra."
The President could only nod helplessly, patting Johan's shoulder with heavy reluctance.
"Very well. Handle everything. And may you be right this time."
Mythological Faction Resting Chamber — After the Match
The room was warm, filled with the fragrance of peony incense.
Soft golden light dripped from crystal stones embedded in the ceiling, reflecting against walls carved with ancient symbols of strength and longevity.
Huli Jing sat upon a jade couch draped in dark crimson silk.
Her body was still covered in faint burns and shallow cuts along her arms—the remnants of her brutal duel against Elaina Voss.
Though her nine silver-glimmering tails remained beautiful, they swayed weakly, like winter flowers not yet ready to bloom again.
Beside her, a friendly-faced dwarf carefully cleaned the fox spirit's wounds with a thick dark-green herbal paste.
Each touch released the scent of damp forests and rain-soaked earth.
"Stop frowning, Miss Fox," the dwarf muttered without looking at her. "Wounds on the body can heal. But wounds in the chest only grow deeper when left alone."
Huli Jing did not answer.
Her eyes remained fixed upon the surface of the small pond before her.
There, her reflection shimmered: beautiful, dignified… yet fragile.
"I should feel satisfied," she whispered quietly. "I won, didn't I? So why does it feel like there's an empty space here?"
Her hand slowly pressed against her chest.
"As if this victory never truly belonged to me."
For some reason, Elaina's final words continued haunting her thoughts.
Sorry… Mommy failed.
"Mommy? Did that mean she once had a child?" she wondered in confusion.
For the first time in her long life, Huli Jing wished the human had hated her.
Because Elaina's final gaze had been far too peaceful for someone who had just lost everything.
Too peaceful compared to the countless victims whose dreams she had shattered before—people who always looked at her with terror.
The dwarf stopped tending to her wounds and bowed politely.
"Perhaps you fought too hard for reasons you never truly believed in," he said softly before retreating, leaving Huli Jing alone within the incense-filled chamber.
Several moments of silence passed.
Then, from beyond the bamboo curtains, the sound of light footsteps echoed softly yet authoritatively.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
From behind the sliding wooden door emerged an elderly Huli Jing.
Silver-white fur flowed around her like moonlit snow.
Her eyes were gentle, carrying the wisdom born from centuries of wandering.
"So this is where you are? I've been searching everywhere for you," she said softly while approaching.
"You fought well, my child. But somehow… your face is not the face of a victor."
The younger fox spirit lowered her head, her tails slowly touching the floor.
"I don't understand, Grandma Bai Zhen. I did everything I was supposed to do. I defeated that human. But somehow… it feels like I defeated myself instead."
The old fox smiled faintly.
Then sat beside her, gazing together into the pond reflecting two generations of fox spirits.
"That is the burden of victory, Yue," she murmured.
"Sometimes victory is not about who remains standing in the end. But about who remains pure after everything is over."
The younger Huli Jing turned toward her, eyes trembling slightly.
"Pure?"
"Yes," Bai Zhen answered gently.
"You are not a savage creature who seeks victory alone. You were born from the balance between moonlight and earthly cunning. But if your victories are born from anger, that light will fade little by little."
The room fell silent.
The soft crackling of incense sounded like long breaths drifting from the ceiling.
"Then what should I do, Grandma Bai Zhen?"
The elder fox spirit stared at her for a long moment before lifting her hand and gently patting the young fox's head. Instantly, the fox ears folded down.
"Rest. Do not think about victory or defeat. Listen instead to the whispers of your own tails."
Yue lowered her gaze toward the nine tails lying limply across the floor.
"If you truly wish to know who you are, do not listen to applause."
"Listen to silence."
The elderly Huli Jing slowly walked away, her footsteps nearly soundless.
The wooden door slid shut gently.
Yue returned her gaze to the pond, now rippling softly—her reflection gradually blurring beneath silent falling tears.
"Silence, huh?" she whispered.
After Bai Zhen left the room, silence descended like fog.
Only the gentle sound of water from the small pond remained, reflecting lantern light dancing softly upon the stone walls.
Yue sat motionless, her empty gaze piercing through her own reflection in the water.
The elder's words still echoed in her ears—heavy, layered with meaning, as though every sentence carried riddles about fate itself.
Until you understand loss? Is that why that human kept enduring until she lost her sanity? Even while knowing she could never survive my illusions?
Yue lowered her head further, her small fingers touching the water's surface.
But when her tails swayed behind her once more like branches caught in the wind, something suddenly felt wrong.
The water trembled, shattering her reflection.
The lanterns dimmed instantly.
Yue immediately stepped away from the pond.
"No… impossible…" she whispered hoarsely.
She spun around and counted her tails with trembling hands.
One.
Two.
Three.
Until eight.
There was no mistake.
Her ninth tail was truly gone.
Yue moved her remaining tails anxiously as fear slowly seeped into her heart.
According to her race's beliefs, losing a tail meant losing part of one's soul—or a sign that the balance between spirit and body was collapsing.
Whether because of the battle earlier…
Or because her own heart had cracked.
She staggered backward until her back struck the wall, trying desperately to process what was happening to her body.
Before she could calm herself, the room's monitor suddenly flickered to life with a soft hiss.
Blue light illuminated the chamber, revealing a new scene from the Sky Colosseum.
On the screen stood a gigantic creature with two dragon heads amidst blazing flames and raging dust storms.
The two heads were strikingly different.
One radiated fury, with burning red eyes and grinding fangs.
The other appeared calm, wise, and dignified—like a dragon monk who had survived a thousand ages.
Yue's eyes widened.
"Is that… Shen Long?" she murmured softly.
Her face instantly paled.
"Could it really be… the Guardian of the Heavens? The next representative?"
Yue had never once seen the Heavenly Guardians descend directly to the mortal world.
Not unless the state of the world itself had become dire.
"That human side won't stand a chance!"
She moved quickly, her kimono fluttering wildly with her panicked movements.
She hurried toward the door, intending to reach the upper balcony and witness the battle herself.
But before her hand could touch the handle—
It came.
A heavy growl.
Low, yet powerful enough to shake the walls like thunder breathing through stone and air itself.
"Ahh!"
She jerked her hand away as the door violently trembled.
The lanterns extinguished one by one.
Yue froze, her eyes lifting slowly toward the ceiling.
Her small chest rose and fell rapidly, her remaining tails standing upright in alarm.
From afar, the echoes of Shen Long's twin roars shook the entire Sky Colosseum.
Even the spectators in the stands felt the ground trembling beneath them, while the sky itself seemed to shudder beneath the combined breaths of an ancient fury.
The two-headed dragon landed violently, shaking the earth and sucking the air from the arena itself.
Even the clouds above slowly parted away, as though the heavens themselves refused to touch the dragon's body.
Yet despite its ferocity, both heads lowered respectfully before The Ancient One and Libra, the judge.
Standing amidst soft celestial light, Libra gazed toward the human President with concern.
"A creature of such magnitude… and humans so small… how are they supposed to fight it?" she whispered softly.
"Or rather… what kind of human could possibly rival a dragon that powerful?"
Suddenly, Johan's footsteps approached.
He walked toward Libra and The Ancient One carrying a proposal in his hands.
The Ancient One chuckled softly, his voice echoing across the sky.
"How interesting, Human. Very well. I accept."
Libra merely stared in confusion at the stage proposal from the President's assistant, while cautiously eyeing the ancient avian creature reclining against his stone throne.
The Ancient One raised his golden claw.
In an instant, the arena transformed completely.
The marble floor became a vast green plantation. Narrow dirt paths stretched between fields, while small rivers curved gently through dense foliage beneath hanging mist.
The President, who had moments ago looked hopeless, suddenly stared downward sharply.
"That plantation… could it be—"
He turned toward Johan, who now stood with folded arms and focused eyes.
For the first time, a glimmer of hope crossed his face.
Meanwhile, one of the dragon heads looked around and burst into loud laughter.
"Trees? Plants? So humanity has prepared fuel to burn themselves alive?"
But among the human faction came whispers and quiet confident chuckles.
"Damn… who would've thought they'd recreate the plantation in conditions like this?"
The murmurs from the human side caused the dragon to fall silent.
Its laughter stopped instantly.
Then—
A siren wailed sharply through the air.
From the distance, a fire truck sped toward the arena at full speed, dust exploding behind it.
Four figures wearing heat-resistant uniforms, reflective helmets, and carrying massive water hoses clung recklessly to the vehicle.
"Yiiihaaa!"
They shouted joyfully, as though responding to nothing more than another ordinary civilian emergency call.
The truck screeched to a stop across the dirt terrain.
The four firefighters jumped down and stood side by side facing the colossal dragon.
Gigantic monitors around the arena displayed their title in a heavy, booming voice:
"The Second Match: The Two-Headed Dragon vs Fire Fighter Squad."
Cheers split the heavens apart.
Most of them were mocking laughter from the mythological faction, ridiculing humanity's foolishness.
Meanwhile, among the humans, some held their breath—caught between anxiety and pride.
One member of the firefighter squad swung a water hose over his shoulder and grinned up at the towering dragon above them.
"Now that's one hell of a fire hazard. The overtime pay better be insane."