"Now that the stage is ready, all participants, take your places." Caprion gave a small, respectful bow and swept an arm toward the newly broadened arena.
From every side, out of each race’s gathering area, groups stread onto the marble floor. Most were Rank 2; the rest were Rank 1. Boots clicked on stone. Armor brushed and settled. Low voices gathered into a contained hum as each race claid a sector and ford up to await the next announcent.
Adyr chose an open patch and stood alone. He kept his breathing even while his eyes moved. Lines, distances, temperants, escape routes, and pressure points arranged themselves in his head until the field ca into focus.
With everyone gathered, the picture was clear. It was easy to see who had reached the final and how many each race still held.
In one corner stood the Umbraen. Heads lifted, eyes cool and superior. Kharom held the front. Their count reached 75, and even their silence read as confidence.
Opposite them, the Lunari assembled in clean, practiced ranks. Thalira Luna drew attention without effort, beauty and authority resting lightly on her. The ground felt claid beneath them. Their number was only a little less at 68.
The Gorathim were fewer at 49, yet they filled the most space. Even the smallest among them stood well over 3 ters, mass and height turning their corner into a living wall. They waited in a heavy, quiet readiness that did not need to prove anything.
Beyond the leading three, many other races remained in smaller clusters along the edges.
A wash of blue drew Adyr’s gaze. Under the sun, the Aqualeth seed to carry a thin sheen of water across their skin. They had lost 1 team earlier, yet 3 teams had still reached the final. Fifteen stood together, and among them, Maruun Aqua had not lost his spirit. If anything, his focus had sharpened.
Sensing the attention, Maruun looked over. Their eyes t. He gave a brief, friendly nod.
Adyr had watched him fight during the team rounds and had been impressed. Maruun was not as dominant as the top 3 geniuses, yet his water and ice skills carried weight and control that were impossible to ignore.
If nothing goes wrong, they can probably reach the top 200, Adyr thought. His gaze slid back to the Umbraen, and the calculation shifted.
Kharom was already watching the Aqualeth. The choice of first target, once the battle began, could not have been clearer.
Looks like I will be busy as well. His eyes t Kharom’s for a heartbeat. In that all-dark stare, he read a simple ssage: wait your turn, I am coming for you.
The Umbraen obsession with image and the way they handled grudges had not changed. It was obvious they intended to settle matters here on this floor rather than wait for the Legacy Domain.
Hooves striking stone rolled through the arena, and the noise fell away. Caprion spoke. "First of all, let congratulate all candidates who managed to reach the finals."
His gaze traveled the tiers as if committing all 498 faces to mory, pausing on the top 3 geniuses and on Adyr.
"You already know this, but let say it again. You are here to earn the right of entry to the Legacy Domain, and you should be fully aware of what an opportunity this is for all of you."
At his words, the Rank 1 and Rank 2 candidates held their breath as excitent pressed into their chests. Even Rank 4 leaders and rulers looked expectant.
The Legacy Domain in question was the Sanctuary left behind by a fallen Rank 5 Adept, by Outer Region asure, soone who had set foot on immortality. No one could do more than guess how much fortune waited inside.
A fallen immortal’s lifelong treasures and secrets. The thought alone set nerves on edge and turned powerful eyes a greedy red.
"And to make you even more excited, let share sothing." Caprion’s voice rose to et the current of the crowd. "The Wanderer rchant is known for generosity, but this ti he has surpassed even himself. He asks for only 1 item from the Legacy Domain. Everything else you find, he has decided to leave to you, to claim as your own."
The arena broke into a frenzy of whispers.
"Is this real? We can actually own anything we find in there?"
"Hey, there should be Rank 1 and even Rank 2 treasures, right? And that is without counting the unique and rare Sparks."
"Wait, if I find his notes on evolution paths or talent insights, can I keep them?"
Across the marble floor, voices collided and climbed. People spoke of unimaginable things hidden inside, of written insights and accumulated notes on dozens of talents, exactly the kind of knowledge a Practitioner needs to rank up quickly in the future.
Caprion raised his hand, and the crowd quieted. "And that is not all the Venerable Wanderer rchant offers you."
He let the silence stretch while he swept their faces, then answered the question sitting in every mind.
"The item he seeks. Whoever finds it and delivers it to the Wanderer rchant will receive a Rank 4 Spark, of their own choosing, from his personal treasure vault."
The promise struck the hush like a stone into still water. Even the eyes of Rank 4 Titled Practitioners flashed with shock.
Sevrak’s gaze, most of all, burned with greed.
They all knew how powerful an Adept could be, and what a Titled Adept like the Wanderer rchant represented. He had once wielded a Rank 5 Spark, now dead. Even so, soone who had reached that height would not keep an empty vault. There should be dozens of Rank 4 Sparks inside, varied and rare.
To anyone in the Outer Region, being given a chance to enter that vault and choose a Rank 4 Spark inside, already prepared to be subdued, ant only one thing.
All at once, the Rank 4 leaders turned their attention to their new generation waiting on the floor. Desire brightened their eyes. The thought was plain and imdiate. If one of their youths claid this reward, they themselves could step into Titled rank in an instant.
Even Adyr, who wore a professional mask that rarely let any feeling slip, showed a brief flicker of surprise.
It was not only that subduing a Rank 4 Spark was brutally difficult; even soone as powerful as Liora Virel had failed for years, losing dozens of the kingdom’s Practitioners in the process.
The harder part was finding a Rank 4 Spark at all.
In the Outer Region, they were scarce, and when one surfaced, you could not simply walk in, fight, and subdue it.
Collossith was the clearest example.
For years, Liora asked other kingdoms and races for help. She even offered the Spark itself as paynt if they succeeded in defeating it, but no one accepted—except Sevrak the Dragon Rider, who still failed to appear when the ti ca.
The reason was simple: an unwritten code respected by all races.
If a Rank 4 Spark appeared, only the ruler of the territory where it appeared held the legitimate claim to act.
As long as the Spark posed no threat to other kingdoms, outsiders were expected to stay out of its defeat and subjugation.
If, in so cases, soone managed to defeat a Rank 4 Spark outside their own territory, the right to subdue it did not automatically pass to that person.
First, all Titled Practitioners would be consulted, and a collective decision would be made on what should happen next.
The purpose of these rules was to preserve the balance of power. Allowing anyone to seize a Rank 4 Spark and jump to Titled strength without strict oversight was out of the question.
Given all those rules and restrictions, the Wanderer rchant’s personal reward, the right to own a Rank 4 Spark without consequences, was the best prize available in the Outer Region.
"I’m very pleased to see you more spirited now." Caprion let out a light chuckle, a faint glint in his eyes that most missed. The sound was small, but it traveled. Heads lifted. Backs straightened. The arena seed to draw a single, deep breath.
Before this announcent, everyone already expected the battle royale to be bloody and chaotic. Now, with these rewards at stake, the mood sharpened to a point.
Bloodlust showed in little ways first. Hands tightened on weapon grips. Knuckles blanched.
Across the marble, the hum of voices thinned into a taut quiet that carried the weight of 498 decisions about to be made.
Killing intent rose in waves that even the stone seed to feel. There was no doubt the candidates would use anything they had to reach the top 200.
Secret techniques that had been guarded for years moved from the mind’s vault to the fingers. Breathing patterns changed. Eyes stopped wandering and fixed on chosen targets.
The Umbraen line tilted like a spear toward the Aqualeth. The Lunari adjusted their formation a fraction, clean angles ready to fold or cut. The Gorathim stood unmoving, a dark wall waiting for impact.
"Enough waiting. Let us watch a good show." Caprion stepped down from the central platform to the side, hooves thudding once on dry soil.
He lifted his chin and spoke without strain, and his voice rolled over the tiers like a breaking wave, sweeping the last scraps of noise away.
"Begin."
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