Chapter 17: Spotlight: The Golden Age Begins

{The Conversation}

Daman Zhokul leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the floating panels that replayed Jin-Seok's Gravity Trial performance. The casual grace with which he carried himself spoke of someone accustomed to being the most dangerous person in any room—except, perhaps, this one.

"Even though I came to watch how my nephew performs..." he mused, his voice carrying the weight of genuine interest, "this has gotten a lot more interesting."

He gestured toward the holographic displays showing shattered records and impossible statistics.

"That dark horse... he's something else. I'm actually getting excited."

Lyra Varnok rested her chin on her gloved hand, her posture elegant even in casual observation. When she spoke, her voice carried the particular brand of aristocratic amusement that came from watching lesser beings surprise themselves.

"Same here. He came out of nowhere, and now the entire Tower's whispering his name."

She paused, and her expression shifted to something more personal—a mixture of anticipation and sibling rivalry that transcended even her noble bearing.

"I can't wait to see what my stupid brother does during the trial. He hates being overshadowed. This'll be a fun watch."

Daman tilted his head thoughtfully, his question carrying the weight of someone accustomed to calculating odds and outcomes.

"Who do you think will take the top spot? One of our noble houses' heirs? A Sovereign Seven descendant? Or... will the mystery kid run off with the top spot too?"

Lyra's laugh was rich with genuine uncertainty—a rare sound from someone of her station.

"Before today, I would've sworn on our family's relic—one of the nobles, no question. Even the Sovereigns' descendants can't compare to ours. Even though they're strong, we have our bloodline abilities as an advantage."

Her eyes flicked to the holograms showing statistical projections that seemed to break the very mathematics they were built on.

"But now? That kid... he cleared Nightmare modes like they were warmups. We barely survived those trials when we were his age."

The admission came with a half-laugh, half-grimace that spoke to memories of trials that had pushed even noble bloodlines to their limits.

"Now I don't know where he came from."

---

{The Third Presence}

Both Daman and Lyra turned their attention to the third figure in the room—someone who had remained silent throughout their exchange, watching the arena with an intensity that seemed to bend the very air around him.

Daman's voice dropped slightly, carrying a respect that he rarely showed to anyone.

"What about you, Azhrel? What do you make of this kid?"

The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was pregnant with possibility, heavy with the weight of knowledge unshared.

Then, just barely, Azhrel Karshem's lips curved. Not quite a smile, but something that suggested secrets held and revelations pending.

"Why ask me? I'm just as confused as you are."

The words themselves were simple, but the delivery carried undertones that made both of his companions pause.

---

{The Moment of Recognition}

Lyra blinked. Daman froze mid-thought.

They looked at each other, then back at Azhrel, who had returned to his quiet observation of the arena as if nothing had happened.

"Did... he just smile?" Lyra's voice carried disbelief.

"No, no way." Daman's denial was immediate, but his eyes remained fixed on Azhrel's profile.

When they looked again, Azhrel was simply watching the arena, his expression as calm and unreadable as still water.

---

{The Interrogation}

Lyra's voice dropped to something almost accusing.

"...You know something, don't you? And why are you here?"

Azhrel's response came with the kind of casual deflection that only made him more suspicious.

"Why shouldn't I? Isn't one of my nephews also participating?"

Daman leaned forward, his tone carrying the weight of someone who had known Azhrel long enough to recognize when he was being evasive.

"Thought you weren't interested in watching fledgling fights, even if that is your nephew?"

For a moment, Azhrel's composure shifted. The faint smile returned, and when he spoke, his voice carried genuine amusement.

"I go where it gets interesting."

Lyra chuckled, but the sound carried an edge.

"Interesting, huh? So what caught your attention?"

Azhrel's response was delivered with the kind of relaxed confidence that suggested he was enjoying the conversation more than he was letting on.

"Would it kill you both to believe I'm just here for entertainment?"

---

{The Verdict}

Daman's grin was immediate and uncompromising.

"Yes."

Lyra's response was equally decisive.

"Absolutely."

Azhrel's reaction was a soft chuckle that seemed to acknowledge both the accuracy of their assessment and his complete lack of concern about their suspicions. He settled back into his chair, his attention returning to the arena below where Jin-Seok stood, masked and ready.

"Then I suppose," he said quietly, "we'll all just have to wait and see."

The words carried the weight of prophecy, hanging in the air of the apex room like a promise of revelations to come.

---

The Golden Generation – Tower Arena Introduction

{The Colossal Arena – Opening Ceremony}

The massive crystalline screens flickered to life across the Tower's ten zones, each one displaying the same magnificent sight: an arena so vast it could swallow entire cities. Magical loudspeakers hummed with anticipation as millions of eyes turned toward the center stage where destiny would be written in blood and glory.

DJ Razzel Vox's voice erupted from the speakers, his words cascading like thunder across the colossal arena. The crowd—a sea of faces stretching beyond the horizon—rose as one, their collective roar shaking the very foundations of the Tower itself.

---

As the tension in the VIP room slowly settled, the atmosphere shifted—subtly at first, like the quiet exhale before a tempest. Azhrel, Daman, and Lyra returned their focus to the screens just as the arena's lights dimmed and the crystalline panels across the Tower began to flicker with radiant life.

A beat passed.

Then, like thunder breaking across the heavens, Razzel Vox's voice surged through the arena—sharp, electric, and impossibly vast.

---

{🎤 The Voice of Legends}

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE TOWER!"

Razzel Vox's magically amplified voice pierced through the chaos, commanding absolute attention. Every soul in the arena fell silent, hanging on his every word.

"Turn your eyes to this moment—because history is about to begin!"

The screens shifted, showing flashes of training grounds, battlefields, and the faces of young warriors who had clawed their way to this pinnacle.

"They've trained since they could walk. Been tempered since they could speak. They carry names that shaped this Tower's very foundations... And now—they're finally stepping into the light!"

A pause. The silence stretched like a drawn bowstring.

"From Sovereign bloodlines to Noble clans... from forgotten prodigies to media-made stars..."

Razzel's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper that somehow reached every corner of the arena.

"Call them what you want—geniuses, freaks, monsters..."

His laughter boomed across the arena, rich with anticipation.

"But this? This right here... This is the Golden Generation of the Tower!"

The crowd exploded. Cheers, screams, and the thunderous applause of millions created a symphony of pure excitement.

"Write it down, remember it—because years from now, this will be the moment they all trace back to! A storm's brewing across all ten Zones—let's meet the ones causing it!"

------------------------------------------------

And so…

as the cheers of millions echoed through the heavens,

and the names of the Golden Generation etched themselves into Tower history,

one masked figure stood at the center of it all—silent, unclaimed, unknown.

He had no faction.

No noble bloodline standing behind him.

No history...

at least, not one anyone could find.

But in the chaos of clashing legacies and roaring ambition,

he moved like a whisper against fate.

Today, the Tower saw a challenger.

Tomorrow, it might remember a legend.

As noble heirs sharpen their blades,

and Sovereigns' descendants ignite their passions—

the unknown begins to move.

Where will this path lead?

To glory? To ruin?

Or to something the Tower itself never predicted?

One thing is certain:

the Golden Generation's story has begun…

but the one they'll speak of most

has only just stepped into the light.

Until next time...

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{An Original Series by Celestial Raven}