The agreement was signed swiftly, as all protections and potential exploitations had already been settled before the main demands were presented. The swearing of the mana oath and the signing of the mana contract were completed within an hour of reaching the agreement. This quick resolution led them directly to the next phase: determining the format of the fight and defining what constituted a majority win.“How are these fights conducted in the Conclave?” Aron inquired of Liasas.“It typically involves two individuals battling to the death or until one side concedes defeat. While there are usually some restrictions on the weapons each side can use, there are no limitations on an individual's abilities. These fights are generally held on land, and I doubt you’ll allow us to enter the star system for these confrontations?” she explained, noting that this format was primarily practiced by the Vlathorins and the Xor’Vak, though others occasionally engaged in similar fights, as permitted
With the agreement signed, construction of the arena began, creating a surreal and contradictory scene. Civilizations that were still officially at war found themselves working side by side on a shared project, while other sections of their fleets stood idle, maintaining a tense standby posture in case one side gave in to the temptation to strike.The mana oath and runic contract ensured compliance, but they were not preemptive barriers—they only enforced punishment after a violation occurred, not for the intent. Although the penalties for breaking the agreement were severe, the potential destruction that could be unleashed in the moments before those consequences took effect was something neither side could afford to ignore. As a result, both sides remained cautious, prepared for any sudden betrayal.The selection of the asteroid was completed swiftly, and it was soon pulled from the remnants of its disrupted orbit—a casualty of the black hole bomb that had marked the war’s violent b
By the third week, the construction of the Colosseum was finally completed, and the remainder of the week was devoted entirely to testing to ensure everything met the necessary standards. Both sides pushed every available system to its limits, stress-testing the arena’s components, shielding, and environmental controls.This wasn’t just about verifying functionality; it was also a matter of trust—or the lack thereof. Both sides were highly suspicious of one another, meticulously scanning for any hidden backdoors or subtle sabotage. No one wanted to risk the possibility of a sudden disadvantage due to an exploit or unseen manipulation. Both sides scrutinized every circuit, magic circle, and protocol, working tirelessly to confirm that nothing had been tampered with and that the arena was truly neutral ground.While the systems were being tested, Liasas met once again with the negotiator to finalize and deliver the list of contenders, a requirement that had to be fulfilled before the co
As time marched forward, the long-awaited day finally arrived. For many viewers across the Conclave, the anticipation was mixed with confusion and curiosity. The empire had not altered its decision—Emperor Aron Michael remained their sole representative. Despite the risks, they had not added additional contenders as a contingency, even in the event of his defeat or incapacitation during the many matches he will have to participate. This bold choice stirred countless reactions. Some saw it as arrogance, others as unwavering confidence, while a few viewed it as sheer madness. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the emperor's lone participation left no room for error. All eyes were now focused on the Colosseum, waiting to see if this risky strategy would result in triumph—or disaster.Outside the shimmering shields of the Colosseum, massive ships from each contending civilization hovered in position, their hulls gleaming under the light of distant stars. Each vessel carried within it a c
"I hope at least the body survived," Aron muttered, eyes locked on the slowly dissipating mushroom cloud.As he said that, the gun he still held began to crack, fractures spreading like a web over its surface. A second later, the entire weapon crumbled in his grip, the pieces disintegrating into fine dust that blew away in the wind. Aron glanced at his now-empty hands, his expression briefly turning into a frown before vanishing as quickly as it appeared."It seems I overloaded it with more mana than it could handle," he mused quietly to himself.The weapon had been a specially crafted magic gun—an attempt to allow him to use magic in conventional forms, much like his wife did. His own magic abilities were limited to rune-based applications, and he had wanted to avoid relying on them for this fight. The gun's intricate design had combined several magic cycles into a single, complex magic circle: a fire cycle to create destructive energy, a compression cycle to concentrate it, a flight
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMAron stared at the massive explosion he had created, the remnants of his latest attack churning in a mushroom cloud. But rather than savoring the apparent victory, he muttered, “It worked four times. I should be happy with that,” his gaze locked on the shifting scene ahead.Before him, the mushroom cloud split in two, rapidly dissipating under immense air pressure, revealing the figure at its core. A winged fighter emerged from the chaos, unscathed and brimming with power. Though the massive wings hovered behind the warrior, they weren’t physically connected, adding an eerie quality to the figure’s presence. The armor encasing him shimmered in perfect synchronization with the ethereal wings, both sharing the same dark, metallic hue.Without hesitation, the Feryn fighter shot forward, moving with such speed that it would only take him a few seconds to close the distance to Aron, clearly intending to finish the fight swiftly. Aron cl
The moment Aron disappeared from the cloud of dust and smoke, he appeared on the Feryn fighter’s right side. Without hesitation, he seized the fighter’s wrist, twisting his body to slip behind him. In a fluid motion, Aron forced the captured arm upward until it locked at the shoulder, then pulled back sharply, tearing ligaments and dislocating the joint. Before the Feryn fighter could react to the pain, Aron’s left arm snaked around his neck, securing a chokehold, while a swift kick to the back of the fighter’s right knee brought him crashing to the ground. He then tightened the chokehold with unrelenting force while simultaneously pulling on the dislocated arm, further constricting the fighter’s windpipe and compressing his carotid artery. The restricted blood flow to the brain caused the Feryn fighter to slump unconscious within moments, the fight brought to unexpected reversal.CRASH!!!!The only sound heard was the Feryn fighter slamming into the ground, unconscious and unable to
Anyone watching the fight from the Terran Empire who was familiar with anime couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu, certain they had seen their emperor replicate a moment straight out of those iconic animes.Though Aron’s downward swing radiated immense power behind its graceful motion, there was seemingly nothing in front of him to strike. Yet, that was irrelevant. By the time the motion was complete, a golden, crescent-shaped wave of energy materialized, surging toward the unsuspecting Elara fighter. Mid-flight and focused on transporting his spells toward Aron for an attack, the Elara fighter remained unaware of the incoming assault. He placed full trust in his layered shields to withstand any counter from the emperor—unaware that something far beyond ordinary resistance was now heading his way.Just as he was mere meters above the ground, what began as a faint tingling sensation rapidly intensified into a wave of goosebumps. A chilling realization washed over him—he had been caug
“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
“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
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