The vault doors closed behind Kael with a final boom. The palace had tested his past. It had tested his mind. Now, it wanted to test his name.
Kael and Ravik stepped into a wide open courtyard. The sky above them was no longer split by probability storms. It was a calm night-blue, filled with sharp stars, glowing softly like distant lanterns.
But the ground shook again.
Not under them. Ahead of them.
The guardians lifted their heads. The pride-dragon growled low. The echo-wolf's ears flattened. The phoenix rose higher, wings open like fire flags.
Kael smiled. "Another question is waking up."
THE GATE OF ROARING STONE
At the far end of the courtyard stood a giant gate, carved with dragon claws and ram horns. The stone looked scorched, cracked, and proud—like it had survived a thousand battles and wanted more.
The gate spoke first. Not with whispers. With a roar:
"ENTER WHAT ENTERS YOU BACK."
Kael chuckled. "Then it is a coliseum."
The gate opened upward like a jaw lifting open.
Inside stood a circular arena. Massive. Old. And loud with legend.
THE HORNED COLISEUM
The arena was huge enough to fit a dragon city inside it.
The walls curved like a mountain ring.
Six giant stone horns pointed upward around the circle like tusks.
The ground was layered stone, cracked into glowing lines like veins of gold under earth.
Old shields, broken swords, and faded banners hung on the walls, but none had words—only shapes of beasts and battles.
The air smelled like dust, fire, iron, and thunder.
In the center stood a circular stone stage. Not glowing white like before. This one glowed deep gold, warm, old, and fierce.
Kael stepped onto it.
The whole coliseum roared.
A thousand invisible voices—warriors from the past, beasts from legend, dragons that ruled long ago—cheered at once.
Not words. Just sound. Just power.
Ravik whispered, "They honor you. But honor is another test."
Kael nodded. "Then I will answer the honor too."
THE DRAGON OF THE ARENA
The ground split open with gold mist pouring out like smoke from a giant forge.
Then it rose.
A dragon. But not like Auric Draython. Not like Vryllos Belyx.
This one was older. Bulkier. Built like stone and battle.
Its arms were thick like a wrestler's, layered in scale muscle. Its chest had six clear carved lines like a warrior's abs, chiseled into its armored belly. Its horns curved forward like a ram-dragon fusion. Its wings were smaller than cosmic dragons, but heavier—like they were built for crushing wind, not slicing it.
It stood on two legs, fists clenched, tail dragging like a war chain.
Its eyes glowed molten orange.
"I am Draygorn the Arena-Born."
Kael grinned. "I like that name."
"You will not like the test," Draygorn said, stepping forward. Each step cracked stone.
"I do not predict. I do not twist probability.
I force reality by impact."
Kael removed Oath-Render from his back and pointed it down, sword humming louder now that the arena was alive with legend.
Kael spoke simply:
"Then we test impact against intention."
Draygorn roared and charged.
IMPACT VS ANSWER
The first hit was brutal.
Draygorn's fist smashed the air like a meteor punch, forcing Kael to block with the flat of his sword. The shockwave pushed him backward, cracking tiles beneath his boots.
Kael slid but did not fall.
The arena cheered louder.
Kael swung—not randomly, not wildly. Each strike was a response to the force of impact. He used momentum against weight, precision against power, mind against brute arms.
Draygorn hit again. Kael dodged low, slicing lightly across the dragon's armored side—not deep, not gory. Just enough to show a point.
Draygorn staggered half a step. "No blade has touched me in 900 years."
Kael smiled. "Then your 901st year begins today."
Another punch. Kael rolled sideways, leaping upward with a reverse slash that cut air in a curve, making a shock ring ripple back at Draygorn. The keeper said he forced reality by impact. Kael forced it by answering the impact.
The arena shook like thunder drums.
Kael landed, breathing calmly now, sword raised differently than before—two-handed upward stance, knees slightly bent like a warrior-dancer ready to leap into legend.
The guardians spread around the edges of the arena, not behind him, but forming a triangle outside the circle, watching him from different angles.
Phoenix left. Wolf right. Pride-dragon above.
Posture different. Energy different. Story different.
Kael moved again, sword swirling with gold sparks that formed runes only when he swung—not ribbons swirling around him constantly like Salemadon's prompt. These were impact sparks, not reality ribbons.
Draygorn hit again. Kael hit back.
Impact answered. Answer impacted.
Kael yelled, loud and clear:
"IMPACT IS NOTHING WITHOUT A NAME TO CARRY IT!"
Draygorn froze mid-charge.
The arena went silent again.
The gold veins on the ground glowed brighter, rising up Draygorn's legs, arms, wings, and horns, carving new words onto his scales.
Draygorn looked down as the letters formed.
They said:
"NAME GIVES IMPACT MEANING."
Draygorn knelt slowly, fists touching the ground.
"Then speak my name as proof you answered."
Kael placed the sword on his shoulder and said with a small grin:
"Draygorn the Arena-Born, Keeper of Impact."
The arena exploded with cheers again. Louder than before.
Draygorn dissolved into gold mist that rushed into Kael's crown, making the horns on Kael's helmet grow slightly longer, curving backward now—not forward like the keeper's. A different mark. A new mark. An unseen mark.
Kael stretched his arms out wide, cape lifting slightly with the motion of wind, not constantly flowing behind him. The armor sharpened into ceremonial black-silver war-scales, with molten gold lines carved into his chest plate like a badge, not a swirl.
A new sentence glowed on his forearm plate:
"THE ARENA REMEMBERS THE ONE WHO NAMES IT."
Ravik smiled. "You named the impact. So the impact named you."
Kael shrugged lightly. "I told you. I answer."
THE PALACE WATCHES DIFFERENTLY NOW
The palace did not roar. It did not whisper.
It stamped one word in the air like a quiet gong:
"CONTINUE."
Kael and Ravik turned toward the exit, guardians shifting around him differently now:
Phoenix on shoulder.
Wolf walking ahead.
Pride-dragon circling above like a sky judge.
Kael walked out of the arena without rushing, posture confident, head high, arms relaxed but massive, armor unseen, crown horned backward, impact carried by name.
Not like Salemadon. Not like Anamnex. Not like anything else.
Just Kael.
Just new.
A new challenge rises in a place older than kingdoms. A coliseum built by legends. Kael must answer the roar of a dragon arena.