{Now that he's completed coordinate mapping, the entire area around here can be considered his domain. Anywhere you stop becomes a point where he can launch an attack almost instantaneously. You must keep moving,} Nova informed Aron, her tone urgent. Aron, still on the move, absorbed her words while enduring the fading pain from the backlash caused by his forcibly broken rune. Unlike the damage that healed seamlessly when the spatial hole vanished, the destruction caused by the spatial lightning lingered.Aron commanded, quickly tethering the flight runes to Nova through the rune computer interface embedded in his armor. This delegation was possible due to the system's design, allowing him to offload control of pre-existing runes while retaining the crucial role of mana provider.With Nova now in control of the flight runes and fully synchronized with Aron's intentions, she immediately maneuvered away from the Trinarian fighter. Her primary objective was to determine the extent of th
{Intercepting the sensation of pain and minimizing its potency,} Nova informed Aron, who was clearly not in his best condition. Although he had managed to react, albeit a fraction too late, his shield had been strong enough to block the flames that were sent back to him. However, the supplementary spatial attack shattered the shield, and the subsequent backlash from the destruction of both his modified shield and flight rune hit him hard. This forced him into a brief halt before Nova switched to the backup flight rune she had wisely advised him to cast earlier. That precautionary measure turned out to be a lifesaver, allowing Aron to avoid what could have been a fatal outcome narrowly.He managed to survive, but not unscathed. He was missing a hand and a leg—sacrifices made to shield vital parts of his body from the relentless spatial attacks. These attacks were nearly unstoppable, capable of being delayed only momentarily by hitting something, forcing him to exploit even some parts o
The arena fell into a deafening silence as the raging flames and spatial distortions dissipated, leaving behind the shattered remnants of the Colosseum grounds. The air was heavy with tension, and a collective shiver ran through the spectators. All eyes scoured the battlefield, yet Aron was nowhere to be seen. A chilling thought began to take hold among the crowd—the possibility that the emperor had perished, his very existence erased by the devastating spatial attack.Despite their racing thoughts, no one dared to start celebrating or mourning. By now, they had grown accustomed to the unpredictable nature of such battles, where outcomes often defied expectations. Until the AI referee officially announced the fight's conclusion, they clung to the belief that Aron was still alive somewhere. For his supporters, this belief offered a glimmer of hope and reassurance. Conversely, for those rooting for his downfall, it was a lingering frustration—a maddening delay to the victory they so des
"Is he really injured, or is he just acting?" Zynarel, the Trinarian fighter, muttered to himself. From within the safety of his subspace, he scrutinized Aron, who now hovered in plain view—battered, broken, and seemingly on the brink of death. To Zynarel, it looked almost too convenient, as though Aron was laying himself bare, ripe for the taking.Normally, no one in Aron’s condition could possibly be suspected of having an ulterior motive. After all, no sane person would allow themselves to be injured so gravely as part of a plan, especially against an opponent wielding spatial attacks that seemed impossible to counter or even detect. But that assumption only applied to someone operating under normal logic. The man Zynarel was fighting was anything but ordinary.From what Aron had demonstrated in his previous battles, it was clear he thrived in unpredictability. He was adaptable, resourceful, and cunning enough to overcome foes he had never encountered before—foes whose abilities he
The attack, fueled by every ounce of Zyranel's spatial mana, was anticipated to last several minutes at the very least. Its sheer scale and power were such that the Colosseum's repair crews were already bracing for weeks, if not a full month, of reconstruction before hosting another battle. After all, an assault of this magnitude lacked precision and would devastate everything in its wake.But to the shock of Zyranel and the countless viewers watching, the storm began to weaken after a mere thirty seconds. The once ferocious spatial lightning strikes flickered, their intensity fading, and the swirling chaos grew visibly unstable.It was far too soon—several minutes earlier than anticipated. The sight made their hearts sink as dread gripped them, for there could be only one explanation. Somehow, Aron had interfered, his very existence now defying logic and overwhelming their worst fears.As if unwilling to prolong the suspense, the potency of the attack continued to fade rapidly. Withi
Following Nova's orders and the AI referee's approval, the mana stone carriers swiftly began moving toward the Colosseum. As the first ship arrived and entered, it wasted no time, promptly unloading its entire cargo of mana stones before departing to make way for the next carrier to do the same. The process was conducted with remarkable efficiency, ensuring a steady flow of mana stones into the Colosseum without any unnecessary delays.The process continued as over fifty ships unloaded their cargo of mana stones, an act many from the Conclave viewed as both excessive and wasteful. With each successive ship, the pain of the Conclave's viewers grew, particularly when the fifth ship alone had already matched the quantity of mana stones used during the Colosseum's initial construction. Yet, they didn’t stop there; instead, they went on to unload ten times that amount, as if mana stones were an endless resource, leaving the Conclave citizens bewildered and horrified by such apparent extra
“Nova,” Aron called out in his mind the moment his eyes snapped open, rapidly collecting information and orienting himself, realizing he had finally left the enigmatic place the system had sent him.“Nova,” he called again, this time aloud, his voice carrying a commanding weight as it echoed faintly in the arena. Receiving no response to his first call, his sharp gaze shifted to his surroundings. It didn’t take long for him to notice his current state—nearly naked, save for the swarm of nanomachines that had begun assembling around him.{The system had ejected me, sir,} Nova’s voice finally came through, calm but slightly delayed as the nanomachines completed their task. They prioritized covering his lower body, forming a sleek pair of trousers, as there weren’t enough surviving nanomachines to reconstruct full armor. His chiseled upper body remained exposed, glistening under the lights of the Colosseum, much to the awe and unease of the spectators.Nova’s pragmatic choice left Aron l
"Him alive is better than dead, right? I can use his live brain data to study how they use their spatial abilities—it might even help accelerate my plans if things go as intended," Aron said as he stood over the fainting Trinarian fighter.{True, having him alive presents opportunities. But dead men cause no problems, while the living carry infinite potential for chaos—especially one like him. If our spatial lockdown isn’t enough to fully contain his abilities, he could use them long enough to cause catastrophic damage, even if it means enduring the backlash,} Nova replied, her tone laced with caution. She wanted to ensure Aron was fully aware of the risks he was inviting by sparing the fighter's life.Usually, Nova would have been in favor of keeping him alive—it meant more data for her to process, analyze, and extrapolate from. But spatial ability users were in a league of their own when it came to danger. Even a dead one would yield enough data to at least satisfy her curiosity for
Seraphina, who was on the verge of lashing out, restrained herself, her sharp gaze fixed on Aron. His blasphemous words—spoken without hesitation—were an affront to her, a princess of the very civilization he spoke of conquering.Despite her exile by the Grand Xor’Vak, her loyalty to her civilization had not diminished. She still had her faction—loyal followers who supported her in her ambition to one day challenge the Grand Xor’Vak for leadership. Her pride in her heritage and people remained unshaken, and hearing Aron speak of taking over her civilization as if it were some trivial task stung deeply.But Seraphina held her composure. The promise she had made to Aron—that she would hear him out—echoed in her mind. Her civilization’s culture valued keeping one’s word, seeing it as a testament to strength. Breaking her promise, even in the face of such provocative statements, would be a stain on her pride and character.So, she swallowed her immediate anger, the fires of indignation si
As Seraphina's gaze remained fixed on the ever-shrinking cube of spatial energy enclosing her, her mind raced to find a way out. Each potential solution she considered was swiftly dismissed, as the very nature of the spatial mana neutralized most forms of intervention. Any attack powerful enough to breach the shield would inevitably trigger a reaction within the enclosed space, one that she could not escape in time.Her immunity to attacks powered by her own energy was an advantage, but it had its limits. The consequences of her own strikes—shockwaves, residual energy, and other aftereffects—were not covered by that immunity. If she unleashed an attack strong enough to escape, the ensuing chaos within the confined space could inflict devastating harm upon her. The risk was unacceptable, as the damage would leave her vulnerable to Aron, who was unlikely to miss the opportunity to exploit her weakened state.For the first time in her life, Seraphina found herself cornered—not by raw str
“Seraphina,” Aron began, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of authority, “I’m not your enemy—unless you choose to make me one. I understand your anger, your frustration. You’ve lost control of a situation you believed was firmly under your command. But this predicament wasn’t my doing—you’re here because your leader chose to sacrifice you. What I’m offering you isn’t a chain—it’s an opportunity.”Her sharp eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze unwavering, but she held her silence. Aron leaned forward, his own gaze unrelenting as it met hers.“You can continue resisting, pushing the boundaries of the mana oath, and enduring needless pain. Or…” He paused, letting the words linger like a challenge. “You can choose to turn this situation into one that serves us both. Your strength, your insight—these are not things I wish to suppress. Quite the opposite. I want them refined, amplified, and put to meaningful use.”He motioned toward the table, where Nova was still doing fina
[Colosseum]Aron and Seraphina stood motionless, maintaining the same distance as at the start of their faceoff. Neither had moved, even during the spectacular fireworks show that followed Aron’s acceptance of her surrender. The only exception was Aron briefly waving to the citizens of his empire watching the broadcast, many of whom were overcome with emotion, crying in celebration of their historic victory. This event marked the first-ever interstellar combat they had participated in, and despite their lack of experience, they emerged as the sole victors.As cheers of triumph reverberated among his people and the disbelief of others lingered, the broadcast concluded. The moment Aron secured his final victory, the Arena itself was officially handed over to him as part of his reward, along with control of the AI referee. Without hesitation, the AI complied with her new owner’s first command: to end the broadcast. Aron had more pressing matters to attend to—a private conversation with a
[Meeting Room]Inside the Zelvora mental network, an oppressive silence hung over the gathered representatives around the meeting table. The events of the day had left them all stunned, their minds racing with the implications of what had transpired. These were not just any representatives—they were the ones who had signed off on the agreements, the architects of their civilizations’ participation in this contest.Now, they were confronted with the brutal outcome of their decisions.Many representatives sat deep in thought, their faces betraying various degrees of fear, frustration, and resignation. Those who hailed from civilizations steeped in selfish political traditions knew all too well the grim truth: scapegoats would be needed. Someone would have to bear the brunt of the blame for the humiliation, anger, and setbacks their civilizations had suffered.For many of them, the path forward seemed bleak. In the best-case scenario, they might lose their positions, exiled from the corr
To say Aron was surprised would be the understatement of the gigaannum. The announcement had obliterated every scenario he had meticulously crafted in his mind. In all his time spent in simulations, preparing for countless contingencies, not once had he considered the possibility of the Xor’Vaks surrendering—least of all without a fight.Their pride in their strength was legendary, surpassing even the vaunted arrogance of the Valthorins. For a race that reveled in their dominance, surrendering, especially on such a grand stage, was unthinkable. This sudden reversal of expectations hit him with such force that he could practically feel the metaphorical veins in his temple throbbing from the sheer shock of it all.The audience’s collective astonishment mirrored his own, but none felt it as acutely as Aron, whose carefully laid strategies now seemed almost laughably over-prepared in the face of this unanticipated twist.The largest part of Aron's shock wasn’t just the surrender itself bu
The minutes passed quickly for the viewers, their eyes glued to Aron as he sat unmoving in the same meditative position for over fifteen minutes. Speculation ran rampant on both sides, fueled by curiosity and tension.For those in the Empire, the consensus was that Aron was in VR, likely meeting with family or key figures. Many debated who he might be speaking with, guessing that he was either calming worried loved ones or strategizing for the next fight.On the other hand, viewers from the Astral Conclave harbored a mix of anxiety and intrigue. They questioned whether Aron was recuperating in preparation for the upcoming battle, enhancing his focus and mental clarity, or if his recovery from the previous fight was incomplete and he was still in the process of healing.But their speculations ceased to matter as Aron opened his eyes with five minutes remaining in the waiting period. Calm and deliberate, he removed the glasses from his head, placing them back into their container. His n
The moment the fight was officially declared over, Nova acted without hesitation. She immediately dispatched the collector ship, equipped with a medipod, to retrieve the Trinarian fighter's body. Simultaneously, she ensured Aron could rearm himself with a fresh set of nanomachines. For the first time, this process was being done openly, marking a significant shift.Previously, nanomachines had been classified technology, their existence kept strictly under wraps. However, that secrecy had been unintentionally broken when Nova used them to cover Aron’s exposed body during a critical moment, prioritizing his dignity over confidentiality. As a result, while the technology remained shrouded in mystery, its existence was now officially acknowledged, albeit without disclosing any further details.Aron retrieved a small canister from the ship and opened it, revealing a liquid-like substance inside. Pouring it onto his hand, the substance behaved unnaturally, defying gravity as it began to sp
"Him alive is better than dead, right? I can use his live brain data to study how they use their spatial abilities—it might even help accelerate my plans if things go as intended," Aron said as he stood over the fainting Trinarian fighter.{True, having him alive presents opportunities. But dead men cause no problems, while the living carry infinite potential for chaos—especially one like him. If our spatial lockdown isn’t enough to fully contain his abilities, he could use them long enough to cause catastrophic damage, even if it means enduring the backlash,} Nova replied, her tone laced with caution. She wanted to ensure Aron was fully aware of the risks he was inviting by sparing the fighter's life.Usually, Nova would have been in favor of keeping him alive—it meant more data for her to process, analyze, and extrapolate from. But spatial ability users were in a league of their own when it came to danger. Even a dead one would yield enough data to at least satisfy her curiosity for