Chapter 20- A Storm Before Calm?
Seren Vael – The Living LabryinthHe walked.
And walked.
And then walked some more.
Ancient stone twisted in strange patterns beneath his feet — smooth in some places, cracked in others. It felt less like a maze now and more like a forgotten ruin. The walls were etched with symbols he didn't recognize, and the air had a strange warmth that didn't match the breeze.
His coat was torn again. His left arm still sore from the last fight. Not serious — he'd ended it before it got messy.
Just one opponent since the last update. Subdued him with a redirected shockwave. They barely spoke.
Score: 5.
Global Rank: 334.
Viewers: 0.
Still moving.
Still searching.
He passed another student, slumped near a broken archway. Bracelet still glowing red.
"Didn't press it…" Seren muttered. "Why?"
He didn't touch the body. Just kept moving.
Strange, they defeated their opponents but didn't pressed the recall bracelets and let the body remain in path.
He reached a new corridor — low ceiling, slanted floor. The magic lights in the wall flickered once.
And then the numbers changed.
Viewers: 7
Intersected Viewers: 37
His brow furrowed.
"Wait… I got viewers?"
But when he checked the hovering slate just behind his shoulder, he saw the fine print.
Primary Interest: Intersected Encounter. Subject: Velka Sahrin
His eyes narrowed.
"…So not for me."
A gate up ahead hissed as it opened — stone grinding against stone, runes pulsing with pale white light.
Seren slowed his steps.
From the other side of the gate, soft footsteps echoed — deliberate, steady, unhurried.
He raised his guard, muscles tensing.
And then he saw her.
Velka Sahrin of Dar'mora AcademyShe stepped out from the stone haze like someone walking into morning fog.
Tall. Poised. Dressed in black-and-steel robes, thin silver thread running along the seams. Her cloak didn't flutter, even though there was a clear wind in the corridor. Her eyes didn't move. Didn't need to.
She just stopped at the edge of a broken aqueduct arch and stood there.
Looking forward.
Not at Seren. Not at the cameras. Just… forward.
The scry-screens at the coliseum lit up instantly.
A ripple of data spread through the arena's viewing systems — dozens of audience members tuned in, VIP and standard alike.
On the system feed:
Velka Sahrin
Academy: Dar'mora
Score: 33
Current Engagements: Ongoing
Interested Viewers (VIP): 19
Total interested Active Viewers in audience: 212
Her appearance wasn't flashy. But something about her made people stop what they were doing. Even the background noise in the observation deck dipped for a few seconds.
Seren tilted his head slightly.
Seren thought "So this is the so called Dar'mora's storm?"
It was quite a flashy title.
She didn't look hostile.
She didn't look anything.
Just calm.
As if she were waiting for a conversation that hadn't started yet.
And the system, ever-efficient, logged them as an encounter — not because they'd begun to fight, but because they were within proximity.
Seren exhaled slowly.
Not much to say.
So he didn't.
He adjusted the strap on his arm. Checked the distance between them.
And waited.
Above them, a new label blinked onto the Coliseum's massive screen:
"VELKA SAHRIN – ENCOUNTER REGISTERED: IDENTIFYING…"
And the crowd, still whispering her name, began asking—
"…Who's the one she's about to fight?"
Velrenmar Coliseum – Spectator TiersThe air shifted the moment her name appeared again.
People turned. Conversations paused. Dozens of eyes snapped to the hovering screen that showed her standing quietly inside the broken corridor.
"Another one already?" someone muttered.
"She's not slowing down."
"No. That's her fifth in less than an hour. How is she encountering so many people in this wide maze?"
More whisper-screens zoomed in. Some focused on her face, others on her hand — resting on the haft of her spear, as always. Unmoving.
A student from Ravennor leaned forward, squinting at the other figure.
"Who's the unlucky one this time?"
The cameras hadn't identified him yet. His name flickered on there feed:
Encountered Target: Seren Vael
Current Rank: 334
Score: 5
Registered Affinity: Refused to disclose
Seren when registering didn't disclosed his affinity as participant were allowed to choose whether to display it or not. And more than ninety percent choose not to disclose it aswell.
"…Rank 334?" someone laughed. "Oh, that's just cruel."
"Velka's gonna tear through him."
"I mean, he might have some hidden trick," someone else offered, though it didn't sound hopeful.
"He doesn't even have an aura showing," another voice added. "No spells. No weapons drawn."
The camera briefly panned over Seren — coat ragged, stance relaxed but not flashy. One leg looked a bit injured. He wasn't glowing with energy. Wasn't preparing a spell. Just… standing there.
"He looks pretty good but tired."
"Nah, he looks lost."
"Nah. He's just stalling. Or frozen in fear."
One of the analysts monitoring the view screens frowned slightly.
"There's something off about him though. Look at the way he's standing. That's not nervous."
"Doesn't matter," said someone further up the stands. "Velka's still gonna end it in seconds."
Betting tables updated again. Her odds shifted, but not by much. No one was betting on the unknown. Not when the last three had barely lasted ten seconds.
In the VIP section, a soft hum of magic trailed through the air — several nobles and instructors leaning in.
"She's not moving yet."
"She's waiting."
"For what?"
The feed zoomed in again.
Still no movement.
Just Velka, poised like a statue.
And the unknown boy — waiting like someone who'd read this part of the story before.
Velka Sahrin — a student of Dar'mora — stepped into view like a whisper made solid.
No greeting. No theatrics. Just a spear in hand, eyes fixed forward.
A distant announcer's voice echoed faintly in the background, struggling to catch up:
"Velka Sahrin has engaged another participant—bracelets locked. Combat logged. We now go live."
A ripple moved through the crowd.
"That's her again—she's already at thirteen eliminations, isn't she?"
"Poor guy. Doesn't even look like he knows she's there."
"Wait... who is that? Is he limping?"
"Looks injured. Barely standing. They really let her fight someone in that state?"
Seren's POV
He'd just scaled a section of the wall — redirecting force from his foot to launch himself high up the maze face.
A sharp snap of redirected energy cracked beneath him as he grabbed onto a ledge nearly thirty meters up.
The air was dry.
Below, the stone shimmered.
His eye twitched.
Wait—
No, not shimmered.
Split.
A spear, out of nowhere, hovered mid-air right behind him — not thrown, not arcing — just there, like the light had brought it from elsewhere.
It lunged for his bracelet.
He twisted mid-grab. Slipped. One foot lost grip—he launched off the wall and backflipped off sheer instinct.
Clink.
The tip grazed his sleeves. Just barely.
His back hit another ledge hard.
He coughed once.
His eyes snapped forward—
Velka was still standing…
Fifteen meters away.
Still holding the spear.
Same weapon. Unmoved.
"…What the hell?"
He muttered it more to himself than anyone else. She wasn't rushing. She wasn't walking. She was already attacking — and not with her body.
With light.
Coliseum – Observation Deck
"Did you see that? She didn't move. How—how did the spear reach him?"
"Was it a teleport? Or a fake image?"
"She's not even chasing. Just watching."
"She's like a cat. A patient cat."
"And he's the mouse."
Seren crouched again. The ledge beneath him wasn't safe.
She was too far. He needed better ground.
Another launch — Springboard Launch — he slammed energy into his foot, bursting upward toward the next level.
Height might give him a moment.
But—
Light broke behind him.
He twisted.
A second spear fell from above.
No—not thrown.
Reflected.
He spun mid-air, throwing a pebble with stored kinetic force toward the light source behind. The pebble hit a wall, cracked—shattered a glinting glyph.
The spear dissolved into dust mid-fall.
And yet…
Velka was already behind him.
What?
He landed hard. Skidded. Raised his arms.
There she was. Not breathing hard. Not even blinking.
A soft glow pulsed at her shoulders, the same way the glyph-lights pulsed in labyrinth walls — like she was part of it.
"She's doing it again."
"She's not chasing — she's appearing."
"Does she even use stamina?!"
"Wait—was that an illusion?!"
Velka's cloak barely rustled.
And then—she charged.
No words. No taunts. No stance.
The movement was instant. Like she was already halfway through the motion when Seren saw her begin.
False Cast.
Her hand twitched, and a spear surged from the side, angled to impale the side of Seren's knee. He pivoted — reflexive redirection — twisted and pushed his foot down again, launching sideways this time.
The spear pierced a maze column and vanished.
But the real spear was still in Velka's hand.
"What the hell is this?…" he whispered.
A flicker.
She appeared directly behind him.
No—just another echo. A solid illusion made from condensed light.
But it felt real.
He slammed the butt of his elbow into it — nothing. Dust.
Then again—the real spear came from his left.
He parried with both arms, redirection again — the strike slid off but left a gash in his side.
"Oof. He's bleeding."
"Still standing?"
"He's dodging! I mean—barely, but that's something!"
"Who even is he? Doesn't look like a fighter."
"Maybe a support type? Look, he's redirecting stuff. See that jump?"
"He's not bad. Just... wrong opponent."
"It's like watching a cat torture a bug."
Seren's foot connected with a fallen shard of stone.
Another toss — redirected force — he hurled it like a slingshot, aiming at her image.
But her image split, flickering into two — one stepped left, one stayed still.
He hit nothing.
He crouched again, breathing harshly.
His clothes were torn. Blood was dripping down one sleeve. The spear marks were close — way too close.
But he was still up.
Still thinking.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath. "I understand it now."
He wasn't sure he did.
But it was something.
Then a flash of blinding gold light surged around them. His eyes burned. He twisted his wrist, activating a minor energy barrier.
A spear lunged from within the flash—straight at his neck.
He twisted just enough.
Scrape.
Metal hissed across his shoulder. Cut cloth. Bruised skin.
But not eliminated.
He staggered. Caught balance. Launched backward again.
Audience murmurs surged.
"He's still going?!"
"That last one almost ended him!"
"Damn... he's actually reading her now."
"He's not hopeless."
"Still gonna lose though."
"But at least he's not giving up."
Velka's steps were slow, measured.
She stopped just ten paces from Seren, her spear held lightly at her side — like a painter resting their brush.
Her gaze didn't sharpen. It simply… acknowledged.
Then she spoke.
"You're not bad," she said quietly. "Not fast but precise and aware. Unlike certain someone who just goes by instinct."
Seren said nothing — just shifted slightly, keeping his good arm forward, torn sleeve fluttering.
Velka tilted her head.
"But I don't spare based on skills."
And then she raised her hand.
The light around them began to ripple, reflections stretching unnaturally along the ground like shadows at sunset.
Her voice came softer, almost regretful.
"This is the end for you."
VIP Lounge – Enchanted Viewing Deck
Soft murmurs rippled through the velvet-shadowed space as nobles and dignitaries leaned forward, watching the mirrored projection suspended in a gentle lattice of silver glyphs.
The feed zoomed in on Seren's strained face — bruised, slightly bloodied, one eye squinting from a swelling cut.
"Poor thing."
"She's toying with him now."
"Look at that stance — he can barely stand straight."
"Velka's just giving him a graceful end."
"I almost feel bad. Almost."
"Shame. He held on better than most."
A few sipped from crystal flutes. The room buzzed with quiet finality.
The decision had been made — the crowd already writing the conclusion.
But in the arena, the one they'd written off…
…was still standing.
Still watching.
Still calculating.
The moment her boot touched the stone, the number beside Seren Vael's name flickered.
Score: 5.
Viewers: 0 → 7.
Audience Interest Score: 37.
Then—
Viewers (Velka's feed): 1,924.
Intersected feed: now linked.
They weren't here for him.
They were here for her.
The image shimmered on the central screen of the viewing dome. Dozens of spectators murmured — many had wandered off after the slow start, but those who remained… now leaned forward.
Velka was mid-step.
Her spear gleamed in the light, angling behind her back — but not in a throw stance.
Not sharp-first.
Unaware.
No spells.
No aura.
It was the dull end.
Yet—
"Wait, she's not using the blade—?"
Someone blinked.
Then gasped.
"—she's aiming for his spine."
The tip glowed faintly — light caught on it like a laser about to trigger. Seren hadn't turned. The camera's angle changed slightly — and now the entire crowd saw what Velka saw.
A vulnerable boy.
A ripple of light flashed behind Seren.
Nothing more than a shimmer in the maze's polished wall.
Then—
WHAM
A spear slammed forward — blunt-first — right at the base of his neck. A motion fast enough that even the scry-view's enchantments blurred.
His eye widened—
"Wha—?!"
Time seemed to freeze.
Even the VIP screen paused on instinct. Some viewers flinched.
THUMP.
But the strike never landed.
Because—
Seren's foot planted into the ground.
And then—
The entire arena segment shook.
A deafening crack-crack-CRUMBLE echoed out from beneath his boots. Stone ruptured. Dust exploded outward. The ground beneath them lifted, fractured like a jagged blossom — a full 7-meter radius rising in broken slabs.
Velka's strike veered wide as her footing buckled — legs sliding on unstable terrain.
"Ah—!"
She clicked her tongue, trying to balance — too late.
The lifted stones, now hovering midair in shards and slabs, glowed faintly.
Each one pulsed with faint kinetic charge.
Then—
BANG — a shard zipped sideways across the corridor, bouncing off a wall like a wild ricochet.
FSSSHK — another curved low, dragging sparks across the floor.
CRACK — a spinning rock flew toward the far arch, slicing through a trap glyph and detonating it early.
The entire corridor — 13 meters wide, long as a bridge path — became a storm of erratic motion.
Even common crowd were surprised,
"Wh—what did he just—"
"Did he blow up the floor?!"
Seren eyes locked onto hers—calm, resolute.
"You were right about one thing… I'm not fast."
"But it seems, You still missed."