"Unfortunately, no!" Aron responded calmly.The Galvinith fighter’s expression betrayed a flash of surprise. To it, the emperor was already caged, with no means of escape—meaning Aron would rather face death than accept defeat.“Looks like you have the Valthorin disease,” the Galvinith said, its tone laced with disdain. Despite its grotesque form, the viewers could sense its disgust at what it perceived as Aron’s misplaced pride.“You made your choice,” the Galvinith continued, then immediately began to tighten the telekinetic field around Aron. As the field’s radius shrank, its pressure intensified, closing in with the intent to crush Aron and bring a swift end to the fight.……………“Is everything about this only telekinesis?” Aron asked Nova, as the feedback from his shield indicated that the Galvinith fighter was increasing the pressure, pushing his mana expenditure no matter how minute higher with each second.{No, he’s using two abilities at once, and you need to end this fast, sir
{Took you long enough to figure that out,} Nova replied, a hint of amusement in her tone, making it clear she’d noticed this long before Aron had caught on himself."Why didn’t you just tell me, so I could have corrected it earlier?" Aron asked, curious rather than surprised that Nova had already picked up on his habit.{People rarely learn from mere warnings,} she explained with a tone that was almost like a teacher addressing a student’s oversight. {Since your life wasn’t actually at risk, I thought it would be more valuable for you to realize it on your own after experiencing the consequences firsthand.}Aron chuckled at Nova’s tone, but beneath the surface, he was scrutinizing each step he’d taken since the start of negotiations. Up to now, his actions had felt almost effortless, yet the recent fight had shifted that perception. This last opponent—whose abilities bypassed the usual mana-based defenses—had brought an unexpected level of danger, reminding Aron of a vulnerability wit
As the Colosseum's shield parted, a colossal ship loomed into view, its engines rumbling as it glided into the Colosseum. It made its way to the designated landing area for the next challenger, casting an imposing shadow on its way. The viewers held their breath, eager to see what kind of warrior would emerge from such a vessel, each of them hoping—perhaps futilely—that this one might be the fighter to finally give Aron a real test.When the ship reached the designated landing zone, there was no sign of the usual, controlled fighter disembarkation. Instead, a massive, reinforced cube—70 meters on each side—was unceremoniously dropped onto the Colosseum floor. The Erythian ship then hastily retreated from the Colosseum, as if to put as much distance as possible between itself and the ominous container. The cube itself was a masterpiece of high-end restraint engineering, with every inch of its surface crafted to hold something formidable inside. Observers who recognized the intricate
To say Aron and every viewer watching were surprised would be an understatement; disbelief rippled through across countless screens. None of them could fully grasp what they were witnessing.Among the Conclave viewers, those familiar with the top ten civilizations’ military hierarchies recognized the significance of the creature’s designation. They knew the Erythians reserved numerical rankings for only their most dangerous weapons — and the lower the number, the more devastating the power. For a weapon to hold a two-digit number meant it could contend with nearly any fighter among the top ten civilizations. Yet here it was, frozen in terror before a single man, unable to move, fight, or flee.Though Sentient Weapon No. 70 wasn’t the most powerful of the Erythians' biological creations, it was supposed to be formidable enough to stand against any of the Empire’s fighters. Even if it lacked higher intelligence, its design ensured it could contend with the Xor'Vak's lower-ranking royal
Having defeated the Symmetra fighter—who, if not for a limited reserve of void energy, could have posed a significant challenge—Aron now faced the final five, each among the Conclave's top-ranking Civilizations. If the Symmetra’s abilities were any indication, these upcoming battles would be the most difficult yet. Each of the remaining civilizations possessed unique racial abilities that made them particularly formidable and fearsome opponents.Aron chose to forgo his rest period, calling forth the next challenger without delay. This time, it was Vaxerion, the Valthroin warrior, stepping into the arena. Clad in his standard-issue military uniform, he presented a disciplined and imposing figure—a sight the Conclave viewers were well accustomed to, signaling the Valthroins' fierce pride in their abilities.For the viewers from the Terran Empire, however, Vaxerion’s appearance was unexpected. Every fighter so far had arrived in armor, even if it was mostly symbolic for some, providing a
Hearing the Valthorin's brazen invitation, Aron paused, his initial plans slipping away as he considered this unexpected opportunity."I won't decline your offer," he replied, a faint smile forming as the chance to hit a stationary and powerful target presented itself. "And I trust you won’t go back on it."The Valthorin fighter, arms still spread wide, didn't respond, his expression one of complete disinterest. His silence spoke volumes, making it clear he was eager for Aron to act without delay.Unbothered by his opponent's silence, Aron clapped his hands together before spreading them shoulder-width apart, as though measuring an invisible force. Within moments, an explosion rune appeared, pulsating with raw, contained energy."One percent should be enough," he remarked, channeling precisely one percent of his total mana reserve into the rune—a fraction that still exceeded the mana used in all his previous battles combined.With his preparation complete, Aron looked up and addressed
{We will be taking a one-hour break to assess the Colosseum’s structural integrity before resuming,} the AI referee announced, immediately initiating a thorough diagnostic of every corner and component. Its analysis focused on identifying any damage that could compromise the Arena’s safety or functionality. Wherever damage was detected, the AI determined if repairs were necessary or if backups could seamlessly replace compromised parts, ensuring minimal downtime.The break served as a breather for viewers witnessing an extraordinary, high-stakes fight—the likes of which they had never seen before. Typically, wars between civilizations either end swiftly or drag on as wars of attrition until one side surrenders or a ceasefire is reached. But here, events had unexpectedly spiraled into a one-on-one showdown between representatives of both sides.This situation was something entirely unique, born from a rare combination of circumstances that couldn’t have aligned if even one factor had b
To say the Shadari were scary would be an overstatement; they were simply optimized for stealth. Their strength lay in their ability to remain unseen, to blend into the surroundings, making them masters of subtlety rather than intimidation. Their choice of attire, nothing more than a fabric that resembled a veil, made perfect sense for their specialization. To them, wearing traditional armor was akin to lighting a fire on a scorching summer day to keep warm—a completely counterproductive choice. The veil-like material both absorbed and distorted light, leaving many to wonder if it was part of the Shadari’s skin or simply a unique uniform. This baffling effect was all the viewers could discern from the livestream feed, which struggled to capture a clear image of the fighter. The sight—or lack thereof—was enough to rekindle a flicker of hope among the audience, who had almost given up any optimism after watching previous fights that only reinforced Aron’s seemingly insurmountable stren
“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