Chapter 37 – The Breaking Point

Claws clashed. Flesh tore. Roars echoed like thunder.

And the world felt like it was ending — one heartbeat at a time.

The Nakarai came at me again, its monstrous body gliding unnaturally across the cracked stone of the arena. Six jagged limbs moved in sync, each step a quake, each swing of its clawed hands packed with enough force to shatter mountains. Its hide was plated in bone-like armor, dark as ash and veined with glowing red cracks that pulsed with ancient, malevolent mana.

I barely had time to duck as its tail snapped at me like a whip. It missed by inches — but the wind pressure alone sent me skidding back, boots digging trenches in the platform.

I'm slipping, I realized, panting. If I don't shift the rhythm… I'll die.

All around the platform, thousands — no, tens of thousands — watched from the floating stands suspended by the Tree's will. Illusionary projections shimmered across the skies of the map, broadcasting the fight. Spectators whispered, some cheered, others fell silent in awe or horror.

This wasn't just a fight.

This was a performance.

And I was being tested by the multiverse itself.

The Nakarai snarled. "You're slowing down, little fledgling. All that power and still no teeth."

Its voice was deep, layered, unnatural. Like something that hadn't spoken in millennia but had never forgotten how to kill.

Blood trickled down the side of my face. My left wing throbbed — cracked but still functional. My breathing came in short bursts.

But deep within my chest, something stirred.

A memory. No — a truth.

You weren't born to kneel.

Seraphine's voice echoed within me. Her words from days ago — or hours? Time was starting to lose meaning.

"You were born to rise, Zavier Von Drakaryn."

I shifted my stance.

Wings spread. Claws gleamed. Muscles tensed not with fear — but with precision.

This time, I didn't dodge blindly. I met the Nakarai's next blow head-on — claws clashing against claws, my dragon-forged strength pressing back against its brute force.

The impact exploded with a boom of power that sent ripples across the arena.

Gasps rang out from the spectators.

I gritted my teeth and pushed.

The Nakarai reeled, just slightly. Its eyes widened.

"I knew it," it hissed. "You're adapting."

I didn't reply.

Because the moment didn't need words.

I moved faster now — weaving through the chaos, ducking under its sweeping tail, countering with a flurry of precise, brutal slashes. Not wild. Not desperate. Calculated.

My claws raked across its side — tearing armor, spilling black ichor onto the glowing arena floor. The Nakarai screeched, rage twisting its monstrous face.

"You think this is enough!?" it bellowed.

It threw both hands forward — a wave of black fire erupting from its mouth, mixing with a pulse of corrupted mana. The blast incinerated the platform beneath it, carving a hole in the field.

But I had already leapt into the air.

Wings flared, sunlight catching on their silver-lined edges. I spun in mid-air, coming down like a comet, both claws aimed at its chest.

I didn't just land the blow.

I drove it home.

My claws pierced through its chestplate and into the seething core of its being — where its mana pulsed wildly like a corrupted star.

For a moment, time stopped.

And in that moment, I saw it:

A flicker of what the Nakarai once was. A race with pride. With honor. Twisted now into something darker, something obsessed with survival and destruction. It had once been a warrior — now, it was only a beast.

Its eyes locked with mine.

And then the light in them went out.

The Nakarai collapsed.

No scream. No final words.

Just silence.

Its body crumbled into motes of light, slowly scattering like dying embers in the wind. The scoreboard hovering high above blinked — its name vanishing, replaced with a single glowing sigil.

My name.

Zavier Von Drakaryn.

Silence reigned for a few seconds — and then, the stands erupted. Cheers, cries, and gasps rolled through the arena's illusionary echoes.

I stood amidst it all, trembling.

Not from fear.

But from the weight of what I had just done.

Blood covered my arms. My breathing was uneven. Mana surged in unpredictable waves within me, trying to settle after being pushed beyond what a hatchling — even one like me — should endure.

But I was still standing.

Still alive.

A faint shimmer of energy spiraled from my body, the aftershock of having fought on the edge of my limits — maybe even past them.

I heard a voice then — smooth, amused, tinged with approval.

"Well, well," Lunaria said, lounging atop one of the floating crystal thrones far above. Her long hair whipped gently in the wind, eyes aglow with interest. "You're finally becoming interesting, Zavier."

I didn't look at her.

I couldn't.

I was too busy... feeling.

The ground beneath my feet pulsed with energy, the Tree's magic responding faintly to my victory. Not in favor or blessing — just acknowledgment.

You are a piece on the board, it seemed to say. Let's see how far you go.

My gaze swept over the arena. Somewhere in the stands, I knew Freya and Lyssira were watching. Waiting.

But for now, I had earned one moment of peace.

The moment was short-lived.

A voice echoed through the arena, not Lunaria's, but something deeper — ancient and patient.

"Trial complete. Prospect status: upheld. Await further instruction."

Then silence again.

And the sky began to shift.

New names began to appear on the scoreboard — not just prospects, but challengers.

My victory had sent a ripple.

Now, others would come.

Some to challenge.

Some to survive.

But one truth burned brighter than ever in my soul:

I wasn't just surviving this tournament.

I was becoming something more.

Something the multiverse had never seen before.

And I wasn't done yet.