Meat, Mayhem, and Matches

"You know," Kaen said, squinting at Klaus as they strolled down the market-lined street, "with that hair and the new face, you kinda look like a smug prince who just lost his kingdom because he was too busy posing in the mirror."

Kuro snorted. "You mean like your dad?"

Kaen choked on his drink.

Klaus—charcoal-haired, eyes now golden thanks to the illusion seal, his usual deadly aura smothered to a barely noticeable flicker—said nothing, just slid his hands into his pockets and walked past them like a noble who'd grown bored of peasants.

Kaen scowled. "He's already embodying the Kane Vire backstory. Orphaned mercenary with no humor gland."

"You gotta admit," Kuro added, eyeing Klaus's slightly more tanned appearance under the illusion, "the look sells. If I didn't know better, I'd ask him for sword training and cry when he rejected me."

They all paused outside a wide building, smoke curling from chimneys, the scent of roasting meat flooding the air like a siren call.

"The Crimson Grillhouse."

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "This the place?"

"Best barbecue in the lower crescent," Kuro said, already walking inside. "Also where Kaen cried over a too-spicy kebab once."

"That happened once!" Kaen barked, following behind.

---

Inside – Crimson Grillhouse, Main Hall

The trio entered to a burst of sizzling sounds, laughter, and the clatter of iron platters. Warm lighting bathed the rustic wooden tables, and a faint trace of smoke and spices danced through the air.

They were barely seated when Kuro's eyes locked onto a glowing sign near the back wall. He pointed.

"FOOD CHALLENGE: FINISH THE MONSTER PLATTER IN UNDER 5 MINUTES AND WIN A HALL-OF-FLAME BADGE + A YEAR'S FREE MEALS."

Kuro's grin stretched unnervingly.

"Gentlemen. Fate has spoken."

Kaen blinked. "You mean you want to enter that?"

Klaus gave them both a flat stare. "I don't even eat that much."

Kuro slapped him on the back. "You're a warrior. Time to prove it in the only real battlefield that matters—overcooked ribs and shame."

Moments later, they were seated at the center of the hall, a spotlight flickering on as the restaurant's customers gathered around, chanting, clapping, cheering like it was a blood sport.

The chefs—four of them—rolled out three individual iron platters, each mountainous with meats: ribs glistening with honey-glaze, fire-grilled steaks stacked like tiles, spicy sausages, roasted wings, and something still sizzling that looked vaguely alien.

The crowd erupted.

"LET THE CHALLENGE BEGIN!" the owner shouted from a balcony. "FIVE MINUTES. NO POWERS. JUST GUTS!"

---

Three Minutes In

Kaen groaned. "I can't feel my lungs…"

Klaus was methodical, carving through the mountain like a machine—clean, fast, but already showing cracks.

Kuro was grinning with sauce coating half his face, chewing like his life depended on it.

"Come on! Dark-haired one's going down next!" someone from the crowd shouted.

"No way, the tall serious guy is blinking! He's blinking like he's doubting life!"

"Wait, is that… steam coming from Kaen's ears?"

Kaen dropped his fork. "Tell my cousins I loved them."

He collapsed face-first onto the table, unconscious from spicy overkill.

The crowd roared.

Klaus wiped his mouth, still chewing but slower now, his jaw stiff.

Kuro swallowed and leaned sideways with a smug gleam. "What's wrong, champ? Missing your lightning fork?"

Klaus narrowed his eyes.

Then… he stopped.

The crowd gasped.

"HE'S OUT! THE PRINCE CHARMING IS OUT!"

Kuro threw his arms in the air like he'd won the world championship. "Bow before your king of carnage!"

Kaen moaned, lifting his head. "I taste colors."

A little kid near the front yelled, "That one just died!" pointing at Kaen.

Kuro burped triumphantly. "Etch my name into the wall, baby."

---

Moments Later

With a snap of his fingers, Kuro warped all three of them straight into his pocket realm.

The instant silence was staggering.

Sky like liquid lavender. Ocean waves rolling onto fine white sand. Palm trees swaying. A massive moon reflected in the mirror-clear tide.

A gentle wind brushed Klaus's face, clean and warm. Somewhere nearby, gulls chirped lazily.

Kaen, still groaning, staggered toward a hammock and collapsed, snoring instantly. A faint sauce stain lingered on his shirt like a trophy.

Klaus took a deep breath. The place was surreal. Peaceful. Realer than any dream.

Kuro stood beside him, eyes watching the horizon.

Then he turned serious.

"For tomorrow's prelims and for the Ascendant Rising tournament," Kuro said quietly, "I don't want you using any of your elemental powers. No lightning. No wind.They'll recognize the signatures immediately."

Klaus tilted his head. "So I'm supposed to just… punch them into submission?"

Kuro smirked. "Tempting, but no."

Klaus folded his arms. "What then?"

Kuro's expression softened. "It's time for Phase One."

He stepped forward, placing a hand on Klaus's shoulder.

"I'm going to teach you something different. A power few even know exists—let alone master."

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "How different?"

Kuro smiled with mock sympathy. "It'll let you win almost instantly… without even throwing a punch."

Pause.

"…That is, of course—" Kuro added with a smug glint, "—if you can master it before tommorow."

---

The sun was just beginning to crest the edge of the realm's sky, bleeding soft gold across the beach. Klaus stood by the shoreline, ocean breeze brushing against his battle vest. His eyes were sharp—but under the surface, a fatigue clung to him like mist. Training under Kuro hadn't just been hard. It had been otherworldly.

He rolled his shoulders slowly, still feeling the residual pressure of the technique.

Behind him, Kaen tightened the last strap on his gauntlets, casting Klaus a glance.

"You good?" he asked, blinking. "You look like you just got hit by a gravitational nuke."

Klaus didn't respond.

Kaen turned to Kuro. "Seriously, what did you do to him?"

Kuro gave a mischievous grin as he floated past on a breeze of his own making. "Just wait till you see the show he's about to unleash."

---

Prelims – Vortex Stadium, Lower Layer Sector

The trio arrived outside a coliseum embedded into a massive, spiraling canyon wall—The Vortex Stadium. Unlike the majestic, elegant arenas of the Ascendant core, this place had teeth: jagged metal plating, hovering observatory drones, and stands packed with rowdy combat enthusiasts from a hundred different planetary colonies.

Hundreds of participants were already gathered near the entrance gates. Some meditated. Others shadow-boxed or sparred. A few flaunted their elements openly, desperate for attention.

Klaus remained still, standing apart, his face unreadable.

Then—

"Hi there!"

A clear, melodic voice cut through the tension.

They turned to see a tall girl approaching, no older than twenty. Short auburn hair framed her face, and her outfit—gray and teal—marked her as a tournament official. Her clipboard floated beside her, glowing slightly.

She stopped before them and smiled.

"I'm Sira Novelle, one of the guide reps for the preliminaries. You three are part of the Unaffiliated Entrants, yes?"

Kuro nodded lazily. "That's us."

"Perfect," she said. "I'm just going to brief you on the rules, then escort you to the waiting zone."

Kaen blinked. "That clipboard just floating for fun?"

"It's enchanted. Less strain on the wrist," she said casually, then tapped it. "Alright, short version of the rules:

No killing. At most, incapacitation or knock-out.

No external item enhancement unless declared beforehand.

If your elemental abilities are identifiable or banned, using them will result in instant disqualification.

Kaen whistled low. "That's stricter than I expected."

Sira smiled. "That's why most of the smart ones keep it clean until the main tournament. This round's more about observation. Don't give your secrets away too early."

She turned. "Follow me."

---

Prelim Waiting Hall – Inner Arena Chambers

Dozens of fighters waited within massive circular chambers carved beneath the arena. A screen above projected names, rankings, and match orders. Energy buzzed in the air like static before a storm.

Then the crowd's cheering grew louder.

Echoing from above.

The matches had begun.

A new voice now echoed across the chambers—deep, booming, and amplified by arcane tech.

"WELCOME TO THE 93RD ASCENDANT RISING PRELIMINARY SELECTIONS!"

The referee's voice thundered across the arena.

"Combatants will face randomized matchups—ONE MATCH EACH. Victory is required to proceed to the True Ascendant Tournament. Lose… and you're out."

The screen shifted again. Names flickered.

"First Match: Jeren Zai of Crescent Forge vs Melra Synn of the Gilded Coil!"

Cheers erupted.

Kaen whistled, leaning back against a pillar. "This is going to be good."

Kuro's eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

The matches progressed—quick bouts, sudden knockouts, a few drawn-out duels full of feints and elemental flares. Fighters were eliminated fast. By the fifth match, nearly ten contestants had been carried out on stretchers.

Then—

"Next Match: Kane Vire from the Sunreach Sector…"

A brief silence.

"…versus Tolan Resh of the Crimson Vault."

Kaen grinned. "Guess that's you, Klaus."

Kuro said nothing, but a glimmer of challenge shone in his gaze.

Klaus stepped forward, silent and sharp—like a blade unsheathed. His eyes held no emotion, only calculation.