The high court was a sea of silver.
The Vane clan had turned out in force. Thousands of purebloods and vassals filled the stands, their silver hair catching the morning sun like a field of wheat. They weren't cheering. They were waiting. They wanted to see the "rat" who had dared to insult the successor of their clan.
Ren walked onto the sand.
The noise was deafening, a wall of boos and whistles that would have crushed a normal boy. Ren didn't hear it. He was focused on the center of the arena.
Jace Vane stood there. He looked perfect. His silver armor was polished to a mirror finish, and his blue silk cape snapped in the wind. In his right hand, he held the Silver fang. The blade was thin, curved, and etched with runes that pulsed with a faint, restless light.
Jace didn't wait for the herald. He stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.
"You should have stayed in the mud, Participant 402," Jace said. His voice carried across the arena, amplified by a touch of Aur. "You had a few lucky hits. You made a few people whisper. But today, the whispers end. I'm going to carve 'commoner' into your chest so the crows have something to read while they eat you."
Ren didn't take a stance. He stood with his arms hanging at his sides, his wolf-skin cloak draped over his shoulders.
"You talk like a man who has never bled, Jace," Ren said. "You think that sword makes you dangerous. You think that name makes you a god. But when I break your arm, you'll find out that Vane blood hits the sand just as wet as mine."
The crowd gasped. The insult was direct. It was a violation of every social law in the book.
Up in the VIP box, Kael Vane, the Vane patriach stood up, his face purple with rage. "Kill him, Jace! No mercy!"
The herald raised his hand. "Begin!"
Jace didn't lunge. He blurred.
The Void step physique allowed him to move with a stuttering, flickering speed. He appeared five feet to Ren's left, the Silver fang whistling through the air in a horizontal arc.
Rare tier technique: Crescent Gale.
A blade of compressed air tore ahead of the sword. It was invisible, save for the way it distorted the heat.
Ren dropped.
He didn't jump back. He dropped straight down, his chest hitting the sand as the gale screamed over his head, shearing a line of stone off the arena wall behind him. Before Jace could reset, Ren kicked off the ground.
He moved like a coiled spring.
Jace's eyes widened. He swung the Silver Fang again, but Ren was already inside the arc. Ren's shoulder hit Jace's chest with the force of a battering ram.
BOOOOMMMM....
The Vane successor stumbled back, his breath hitching. The silver armor protected him from the impact, but it couldn't stop the momentum.
Ren followed up instantly. He didn't use a sword. He used his knuckles.
A solid three punch combination. Sternum. Ribs. Jaw.
Each hit landed with a heavy, wet thud. Ren wasn't using flashy Aur. He was using the Ironheart to harden his fists into blocks of iron.
Jace roared, his silver Aur flaring out in a jagged explosion. He swung the Silver Fang blindly, the blade glowing with a frantic, blinding light.
Ren caught the blade.
He didn't parry it. He reached out and grabbed the flat of the sword with his bare hand.
The runes on the Silver Fang screamed. The wind Aur bit into Ren's palm, blood spraying across his face. But he didn't let go. He squeezed.
"Is this it?" Ren whispered, his particularly violet flecked eyes inches from Jace's terrified face. "Is this all the Vane blood is worth?"
He twisted.
The Silver Fang, a forged artifact snapped.
The sound was like a thunderclap. Shards of silver metal flew across the arena. Jace stared at the broken hilt in his hand, his mouth hanging open. The shock was so absolute that he forgot to breathe.
Ren didn't give him time to remember. He drove his knee into Jace's stomach, then followed with a downward elbow to the back of the neck.
Jace hit the sand face first and was unable to move
The silence that followed was heavier than any roar.
Ren stood over the Jace. He reached down and picked up a shard of the broken blade. He looked up at the VIP box, at the patriarch who had called for his death.
Ren didn't say a word. He simply let the shard fall into the mud.
He turned and walked toward the tunnel. He didn't look back.