Chapter 72 – The Void cultivator
The air was thin up here.
As Thorne stepped onto the platform, he exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar weight of his chain-wrapped arms and the pulse of void energy coiling beneath his skin.
Across the stage stood Vael.
Draped in glacier-blue robes, silver hair braided tight, and eyes like frozen lakes, Vael radiated a chill that wasn't just cold—it was clinical. Calculated. Deadly.
A silent killer from the Frozen Veil Sect. Seventh on the leaderboard. And unlike the others, Vael had yet to reveal even half of his real power.
The realm spoke:
"Commence."
There was no salute. No words.
Only ice.
With a flick of his wrist, Vael unleashed a wave of frost—razor-sharp shards flying like spears. Thorne rolled low, ducking under the barrage, and slammed his fist into the ground. The void responded.
Cracks of nothingness spread, devouring the frost midair. Where it touched, ice vanished—swallowed by the hungry dark.
Thorne grinned.
"I was hoping you'd start with the cheap tricks," he muttered.
Vael said nothing. He extended a hand—and a dozen ice runes spiraled to life around him. Each rune pulsed with power, weaving an intricate formation in the air. They weren't projectiles. They were traps. Constructs.
Thorne darted forward—movement fluid, chains loosening from his arms with the familiar rattle of steel on bone.
Snap. Crack.
He threw one—straight at Vael's chest. The ice cultivator raised a shield of diamond-hard frost to block—
But the chain vanished midair.
Reappeared behind him.
Vael barely turned before it wrapped around his arm. Thorne yanked—and the platform shook as Vael was hurled forward, crashing into the stone. Thorne leapt after him, a void-cloaked fist raised to strike—
Only to be met by a geyser of icy spikes.
Thorne twisted in the air, slamming down his other fist. The spikes dissolved in a surge of entropy.
But Vael was already gone.
"Fast," Thorne muttered, landing in a crouch. "You cloak your presence well."
From the mist rising around them, Vael's voice echoed.
"You lack discipline."
Thorne's eyes narrowed.
The fog thickened—unnatural, laced with spirit-chilling energy. Visibility dropped to nothing. Frost crept over the platform, encasing even the cracks left by Jin and Ravon.
Then came the strikes.
Not ice. Not fists.
Silence.
Thorne shifted—instincts blaring—and threw a backhanded punch. It connected with… nothing.
Then pain.
A thin gash opened across his back. He spun, chains lashing out wildly. Again, nothing.
Another cut. This time across his thigh.
He dropped to one knee. Blood froze mid-drip.
"This is your domain," Thorne growled, "but I don't play fair."
He slammed both fists together.
Void essence surged in a pulse.
The mist… shattered.
As the darkness rolled outward, it swallowed the freezing fog, reducing it to fragments of broken light. Vael stood revealed at the edge, hand glowing with frosted aura, eyes narrowed.
"So you can break my domain."
Thorne rose, cracked his neck, and grinned. "I eat domains for breakfast."
Jin on the outside couldn't help but gasp in surprise at the use of domains, a skill that is only for those who have attained the realm above adept realm, the refinement realm. It was the highest realm he was aware of.
Back in the platform, Thorne sprinted again, closing the distance in seconds.
Vael's next move was faster—hands flashing as he wove more runes, this time layering them in concentric circles. A dome of ice erupted, shielding him just as Thorne's punch struck.
Boom.
The barrier cracked. Then cracked again. Then shattered.
Vael responded immediately, swinging his hand and summoning a lance of pure glacial energy.
It was beautiful—sculpted like crystal, spinning with deadly precision.
It pierced Thorne clean through the shoulder.
He staggered—but didn't fall.
Instead, he gripped the ice spear and snarled.
"You're going to regret that."
Void surged.
Thorne's aura exploded—chains unwrapping completely, revealing the scars etched across his arms and the black sigils that pulsed with otherworldly power. His eyes darkened, pupils swirling with abyssal energy.
"Time to get serious."
The void pulsed again. This time it wasn't an explosion.
It was consumption.
Vael's eyes widened as his surrounding frost began to evaporate—ice turning to vapor, runes unraveling, even the ambient cold sucked into the black spiral coalescing behind Thorne.
"You've cultivated the Devouring Path?" Vael asked sharply.
Thorne's grin stretched wide. "Got it from a dead man who begged me not to."
He launched himself forward again—this time faster than before.
Each strike of his fists warped the air, crushing everything in his path. Vael moved like a dancer, weaving around the attacks with supernatural grace, flicking icy needles at Thorne's exposed ribs, legs, eyes.
But the void drank them.
With every exchange, Thorne grew stronger.
And Vael's control thinned.
Thorne slammed a foot into the ground. A wave of dark energy erupted like a tsunami—ripping through Vael's newest rune circle and sending him skidding back.
Before he could recover, Thorne's chain shot out—twisting mid-air like a living serpent and wrapping around Vael's ankle.
He yanked.
Vael's body crashed into the ground.
Hard.
Blood stained the ice.
From the waiting area, Jin sat with brows furrowed. "He's not just overpowering Vael," he said quietly. "He's unraveling his cultivation method."
Ignis, arms crossed, nodded slowly. "Thorne's fighting like he wants to erase him."
Back on the platform, Vael struggled to rise. His left arm hung limp.
But his eyes glowed now.
Cold as death.
He raised one final sigil—a white snowflake etched with ancient runes.
"Then I'll show you the price of underestimating me," he whispered.
The air turned silent.
Then—
A glacial storm burst from the sky. Not mist. Not fog. But a divine technique. A thousand blades of frozen light descended like divine punishment.
Thorne didn't move.
He let it come.
The blades struck—
And were consumed.
Swallowed by the black ring of void energy that now orbited Thorne's body.
The audience gasped.
Thorne stepped forward slowly. "You're too late."
His chain lashed out one final time—this time striking not with force, but with entropy.
It hit Vael across the chest.
Frost shattered. Bones cracked.
Vael collapsed.
Unconscious.
The realm's voice echoed again:
"Victory: Thorne."
A hush fell over the arena.
Even Thorne didn't grin this time.
He turned toward the spectators, blood dripping down his arm, void still coiling like a predator behind his shoulders.
"I hope the next one hits harder," he muttered.
Jin met his eyes across the distance. Jin couldn't completely identify Thorne's affinity, but he guessed it had something to do with space, probably a branch of space and the chains were probably a weapon.
No words.
Just a silent understanding.
Only one match was still ongoing and about to start before the semi-finals.
Ignis.
And the dark horse.