Elias lay on the ground, groaning softly as he pushed himself up with shaky arms. His crimson eyes briefly glanced down at his hands, as if testing them—so focused that he didn't even notice the hulking Orcenis charging toward him like a maddened beast.
By the time the monster reached him, Elias had already shifted his gaze—first to his hands, then up to the sky, and finally toward the audience stands. A calm, almost chilling smile curled across his lips.
With a thunderous roar, Orcenis slammed his rock-like fist down toward Elias's skull. A sharp "Crack" echoed. For a split second, the crowd gasped—thinking Elias's head had shattered.
But no… Elias didn't even flinch.
It wasn't Elias's bones that broke.
Orcenis stumbled back, grabbing his own hand in shock. His fist—the one meant to crush Elias's head—was fractured.
Rage twisted the monster's face. He let out a furious howl and threw a devastating punch at Elias's face.
But this time... Elias caught it.
With a single hand.
Effortlessly.
His fingers tightened around Orcenis's wrist. Crimson eyes locked onto the beast's. Elias's gaze was deep—so deep that it felt like a vortex pulling everything into it. Blood-red... yet bottomless.
In contrast, Orcenis's eyes were soulless. Pure white. No iris. No pupil. Just blank, crazed emptiness.
Elias twisted the wrist. A crack echoed.
Then he grabbed Orcenis by the hair and pulled his head down—driving his knee straight into the monster's skull. Orcenis staggered, but before he could recover, Elias gripped his throat and squeezed.
But... just as quickly... Elias let go.
As if... testing something. Searching for something.
Without warning, his left foot shot forward—striking Orcenis in the gut. The beast flew back like a ragdoll.
Foaming with rage, Orcenis scrambled back up. His hands tore marble slabs from the arena floor, hurling them at Elias.
Elias... didn't even move.
With both hands clasped behind his back, he tilted his head slightly. The chunk of marble sailed past him harmlessly.
Orcenis lunged forward for a second attack.
But Elias caught his arm mid-swing, flipped the giant over his shoulder, and slammed him flat onto the ground.
It was brutal.
It was precise.
Unlike his previous fights—where Elias fought like a savage brawler—this time... he moved like a master grappler.
Planting one foot on Orcenis's bloated stomach, Elias pressed down hard. The beast howled in agony.
Elias then shifted his foot to Orcenis's knees, pressing until the bones nearly snapped.
Then... silence.
Elias stepped back.
His crimson eyes stared coldly, as if inviting Orcenis to stand. 'Come... It's not over yet.'
Grunting in pain, Orcenis slowly got to his feet. One arm hung broken. And yet... with a desperate roar, he threw a punch—landing right on Elias's nose.
In that instant... Elias's crimson eyes flashed.
And suddenly... time rewound.
Or... had Elias just seen the future?
Calmly tilting his head to the right, Elias avoided the punch that was supposed to land. His fist shot forward—burying itself deep into Orcenis's chest.
The impact sent Orcenis flying—slamming into the magic barrier with enough force to crack it.
The beast collapsed.
A shadow loomed over him.
Orcenis looked up... and froze.
Glowing crimson eyes stared down at him—radiating power... nobility... authority... and something far more terrifying.
Elias grabbed the beast's hair, yanked his head up, and smashed it into the barrier.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
Blood splattered. The marble cracked.
No matter how Orcenis struggled... it was pointless.
He was completely... utterly... outmatched.
Even Queen Estella and the entire arena were frozen in stunned silence.
But the one who trembled most... was Hedric.
His lips quivered. His fists clenched.
'W-What the hell... What is this?! Orcenis I can understand... but that brat... When did he become this strong?! No... No, this is bad. I need to get rid of him. If not... I'm doomed.'
Elias, with blood dripping from his hands, stared down at Orcenis.
The monster's eyes fluttered half-shut. His consciousness was fading. His arms twitched weakly—pointless, desperate movements.
And then... tears welled in Orcenis's eyes.
Tears.
The sight made Elias's lip twitch into a grin.
'Why am I smiling...?'
Slowly, Elias turned his gaze to the statue of the goddess Selkarya—standing tall above the north stand.
Then, like lifting a sack of flour, he grabbed Orcenis by the ankles.
With a spin, he hurled the giant toward the statue.
Orcenis flew like a meteor.
The magical barrier shattered as his body pierced through—leaving a gaping hole.
Crash!
The beast slammed into the statue with a force that made it tremble... then tilt... then fall.
The towering monument—weighing hundreds of tons—toppled forward.
The spectators in the north stand screamed, scrambling to flee.
It was heavy—yes—but it fell fast.
In just four seconds, it was about to crush hundreds... maybe thousands.
Then... it stopped.
Suspended in midair.
Underneath it stood... a child.
White hair fluttering. Crimson eyes glowing.
Elias.
He lifted the entire statue—holding it as if it weighed nothing.
With a casual grunt, he tossed it aside—back into the arena.
Dust exploded.
Elias walked back over to where Orcenis lay.
Standing above him, his glowing eyes scanned the battered body.
Then... the glow faded.
His face softened. A satisfied smile curved his lips.
For a moment... it was over.
Until—
Shing!
Dozens of spears pointed at him.
Guards flooded the arena, surrounding him from all sides.
Elias raised his hands in mock surrender...
Then... his vision blurred.
Darkness swallowed him.
His body collapsed.
---
Chaos consumed the stadium.
Amidst the dust, the panic, and the shouting, something... strange was noticed.
A hole.
A hidden pit had been revealed beneath where the Selkarya statue once stood.
Curiosity spread like wildfire. People surged toward it. Some were pushed away by guards; others climbed over debris, peering down, whispering...
And there... on the ground... lay the unconscious boy who had shaken the entire city.
---
While the arena descended into madness, far away—in the bustling merchant city of Costheni—another story was unfolding.
Inside the grand Suodelphi manor, panic gripped the household.
The family's 8-year-old son, Menris, had been battling a mysterious illness for three years.
Outside a bedroom, a man paced nervously. His scarlet hair glistened under the chandelier, his violet eyes filled with dread. His snow-white skin contrasted sharply with the fiery red of his cheeks.
He wore a ceremonial coat of golden embroidery over deep red fabric. Matching crimson trousers, black boots, and a golden sword at his hip completed the look.
His wife stood nearby, wiping tears from her ocean-blue eyes. Her long black hair was tied in soft waves behind her head. Her skin was porcelain-pale, her cheeks flushed pink with makeup. Her lips were painted the same delicate rose hue.
She wore an elegant turquoise dress, adorned with gold-stitched roses along the hem and chest. A white apron framed the front, giving her a regal, graceful air.
Suddenly... the door opened.
A soldier in a red uniform—his blond hair cut short, beard trimmed neatly—stepped aside for a healer dressed in emerald robes, glasses perched on her nose, turquoise hair flowing behind her.
The soldier bowed respectfully. "My Lord, my Lady... The healer has arrived."
"You took long enough!" the father barked. "Hurry! Save my son!"
"My deepest apologies," the healer replied, hurrying inside.
She rushed to the boy's bedside.
Menris lay there—his skin pale as paper, lips blue, his crimson hair dull and lifeless. He wasn't breathing. No heartbeat. No sign of life.
The healer pressed her hands together and murmured a prayer.
"Oh Great Saint... Do not deny us the light. Oh Archangel... Grant us your mercy. Let the wings of gold that command the smallest ray of hope... be with us..."
A gentle green light flared from her palms.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
But nothing changed.
No breath. No color returning. Only... the boy growing colder.
Finally, the healer stood.
Her voice trembled.
"...I'm sorry. I've done everything I can. As I said before... this illness has no known cure. Only a miracle can save him now."
Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to the parents.
But... something felt... wrong.
These weren't the tears of people mourning a dead child.
Nor were they smiles of relief.
Instead... there was a strange, breathless tension in their expressions.
Then—a gasp.
The healer spun around—
And nearly fainted.
The boy was... standing.
Eyes wide open—clear, ocean-blue.
His skin... full of color.
His chest... rising and falling.
Alive.
Awake.
Menris stared at his own reflection in the nearby mirror, hands trembling.
"This... this isn't real... No... It can't be... That voice... Just now..."
"Who... am I?"