The towering Spirit’s gaze locked on Valerius. At first, his presence was cold, heavy, suffocating. But then, as if a switch had flipped, his entire demeanor shifted — the deep seriousness gave way to a giddy, almost ridiculous enthusiasm.

  “Great one!” the Spirit exclaimed in a shrill, high-pitched voice, rushing toward Valerius like an overexcited child.

  Before Valerius could react, the thirty-foot-tall being seized his hand and began shaking it with such force that Valerius’s body flailed up and down like a ragdoll.

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” the Spirit squealed, though he had no mouth — the words resonated directly into their minds, his faceless head shifting in strange, rippling patterns that somehow conveyed excitement.

  Valerius, still being whipped about, grimaced. “You know… I didn’t wanna do this, but thank Enikai I did.”

  Ziraiah blinked in confusion. “You… know this thing?”

  The Spirit froze. His jovial tone vanished. His head slowly turned toward her, his eyes narrowing as if she had spat in his face.

  “Excuse me?” His voice dropped, booming like thunder.

  Valerius’s stomach sank. Oh… fuck.

  Before anyone could speak, the Spirit swung. His colossal fist cut through the air, aimed straight at Ziraiah.

  Valerius moved without thinking, stepping in front of her. The Spirit’s punch slammed into his back, the shockwave reverberating throughout the stone dome — but somehow, it held.

  “She’s sorry!” Valerius barked, his voice firm even as pain throbbed across his spine. “She didn’t mean it. She didn’t know what she said.”

  If he decides to attack seriously, Valerius thought grimly, there’s no way she can defend herself. There must be a very powerful summoner behind this one… someone terrifying to command a Spirit of his level.

  The Spirit’s massive frame trembled with fury, raw Vitalis (not mana, not Bravo — but pure, unfiltered Vitalis) rolling off him like a storm.

  “You dare insult me in such a manner?” he roared, shaking the dome.

  Eryndor moved first, his hand glowing with energy as he lashed out — only for his strike to pass straight through the Spirit’s body.

  In an instant, the Spirit’s hand shot forward, wrapping around Eryndor’s neck and lifting him effortlessly into the air.

  “Such blatant disrespect,” the Spirit growled, tightening his grip. Eryndor groaned, clawing at the massive fingers, but they wouldn’t budge. His hands passed right through.

  Valerius opened his mouth to plead — but no words came.

  From the depth of his mind, the being that watched through his eyes spoke: “We do not beg.”

  Ziraiah tried to rush the Spirit, but Valerius shouted, “No! You can’t beat him. Don’t offend him even more!”

  “Your sister has angered a Spirit,” the voice murmured inside him. “What will you do now, Valerius?”

  Valerius gritted his teeth. “Damn it.”

  He launched himself forward, delivering a devastating kick to the Spirit’s chest.

  The colossal being staggered, releasing Eryndor — who dropped to the ground, coughing. The Spirit hurtled backward, crashing through the dome wall and out into the open sky.

  Valerius turned sharply to Ziraiah. “Never call a Spirit a ‘thing.’ Ever. Do you hear me? Now get the damn relic and go. I’ll deal with him.”

  Ziraiah hesitated. “How did your attack—?”

  “Bravo!” Valerius barked. “Now go!”

  The relic floated into Eryndor’s grasp, the crimson light sealing into his hand as he grabbed Ziraiah. The two of them shot upward, blasting through the hole in the dome. Then, over Eryndor’s head, the crimson line of light appeared, shooting into the sky.

  Outside, the Spirit appeared in a blur, materializing beside Ziraiah mid-flight. He raised his fist to strike — but Valerius’s punch connected with his jaw first, sending him hurtling away in a sonic boom.

  “We have to help Val!” Ziraiah shouted.

  “We cannot render him aid,” Eryndor stated flatly, his tone edged with controlled vexation. “As galling as it is, Spirits are beyond our reach to harm. We must trust that he will see this trial through unaided.”

  The Spirit landed with such force that the ground split apart, carving a trench several kilometers long. Valerius descended beside him, rolling his shoulders.

  “She’s naive,” Valerius said calmly. “She didn’t know the weight of what she said. She didn’t mean to disrespect you. This will never happen again.”

  The Spirit rose to his full height, completely unfazed, and looked down at Valerius.

  “Because of you,” he said, his voice still dripping with disdain, “I will refrain from pursuing her. However… I demand an apology.”

  “You’ll get it,” Valerius replied.

  The Spirit stepped forward until they stood side by side, his shadow swallowing Valerius whole.

  “You should know by now,” the Spirit rumbled, “we Spirits are a proud race. We do not tolerate disrespect. Initially, I intended to extract her soul and tear it into a million pieces.”

  Valerius’s jaw tightened. Just what I was afraid of… If he can do that, he’s extremely powerful. How powerful must the summoner be to able to summon him?

  “I will allow her to live,” the Spirit continued, “and in return, you will visit me.”

  Valerius tilted his head. “In your world?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can do that?”

  “Of course you can. My son admired what you did in front of the Venery. I, too, have taken a liking to you. Now… for my apology.”

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  —

  A short while later, Ziraiah stood before the Spirit, bowing stiffly.

  “I’m very sorry, sir.”

  Valerius thumped her on the back. “Lower. More sincere. You wanna die?”

  Ziraiah glared at him before lowering herself deeper, her voice trembling. “I’m extremely sorry, sir. Please forgive me.”

  The Spirit stared down at them for a long, tense moment — then nodded. “This will do.”

  A portal tore open with a deafening bang and an ear-splitting ring. As the Spirit approached it, he stopped, glancing back at Ziraiah.

  “Sister of Valerius,” he said, his voice like rolling thunder, “not all Spirits are as forgiving as I. You would do well to mind your words.”

  He turned back to the portal, one foot stepping through, before glancing over his shoulder at Valerius.

  “Once you gain the ability to traverse my world… come visit me. My name is Eperion.”

  Valerius frowned. “Wait — who summoned you?”

  Eperion paused, placing his hand into the portal.

  “Gustaf Alihandry.”

  And then he was gone.

  Valerius glanced at Ziraiah, raising his thumb and index finger so close together they nearly touched. “Dude, you were this close to dying.”

  Ziraiah scoffed. “I don’t think so. I’m plenty strong.”

  Valerius shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Those guys can take out your soul. Once that happens? That’s it for you.” He looked around. “Where’s Eryndor?”

  “Trying to get the other relics while defending the one he has,” Ziraiah replied.

  Valerius nodded. “I think he’ll be fine for now.”

  Then his eyes lifted — and he spotted it. A yellow beam, not stationary like the others, but moving across the landscape.

  “I think I just found my Blood Chalice,” he muttered.

  Ziraiah smirked. “You’re going to steal it?”

  “Better than dealing with those Spirits,” Valerius said, stretching his neck until it popped. “They really have issues.”

  Ziraiah floated upward, levitating with ease. “Alright then. I’ll go get one too.”

  She turned to fly away but stopped, looking back at him. “We’ll rendezvous when we have all three. Wait — how will you even find us?”

  Valerius grinned. “I know what you feel like. As long as you’re not too far, I can always find you. Think of it like your search magic… but way, way better. I can even feel an ant taking a shit.”

  Ziraiah rolled her eyes and shot into the sky, leaving him behind.

  Valerius crouched slightly. “Forgot to do my daily stretches,” he muttered. He bent forward, rolled his shoulders, twisted his waist, cracked his knuckles, then crouched lower. He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly…

  Then bolted.

  The ground detonated beneath him as he sprinted toward the moving yellow beam. He leapt high into the air, breaking through clouds, and his eyes caught the chaos ahead:

  A Reliard — skin a vivid orange, hair a brilliant blue, running at Mach 48 — carrying the Blood Chalice. Behind him, dozens of challengers chased, howling like predators.

  “You’re dead!” one of them screamed.

  Valerius hovered mid-air, sitting cross-legged on an invisible, elastic cushion of force — Cushion, one of his personal techniques.

  From his vantage, he watched them catch up to the Reliard. The poor man didn’t even get to scream — they tore him limb from limb in a frenzy.

  “Ooooh.” Valerius winced, pulling a face of disgust.

  But the killing didn’t stop. They immediately turned on each other, unleashing carnage for the Blood Chalice.

  The battlefield turned into hell.

  Hands pierced through chests. Swords carved through necks. Explosions of Bravo tore apart the ground, leaving deep scars in the Crater Fields.

  Valerius focused, his vision zooming across several kilometers, picking out every detail.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “This is chaos.”

  One Valphraxsis swung his colossal blade, splitting two mountains clean in half.

  No weaklings left huh, Valerius thought. Almost all of them were weeded out in the earlier phases. What’s left… are monsters.

  He shifted his gaze. In the distance, an Elven woman sprinted, clutching the Mirror Blade. Above her, eighteen Bravo users hovered mid leap, glowing with deadly energy.

  She looked back at them — fear overtaking her face.

  They grinned down at her.

  “You should’ve stayed with your husband and kids,” one sneered. “This is a man’s game.”

  Valerius chuckled darkly to himself. Really? That’s what you’re going with?

  Then the sky fell.

  BOOOOOOM.

  A single coordinated blast struck, erasing her — leaving behind only a 55-kilometer-wide crater.

  The Mirror Blade slipped from her destroyed form. They swarmed for it.

  Valerius floated, unbothered, until a stray slash of Bravo came screaming toward him. He simply raised a hand and deflected it with a flick, sending it ricocheting into the sky.

  Valerius shifted his gaze and zoomed in.

  Through the waves of heat distortion, he saw her — a woman made of fire. Her entire body burned like a living furnace, her hair a roaring blue inferno. Anyone who dared approach within twenty kilometers was reduced to ash.

  Her flames raged higher as she screamed, “Come get it, you bastards! I’ll send you back to your mothers!”

  Several challengers with high-level Fortis pushed through her flames, their skin sizzling as they sprinted through the sky with Thunder Stride, crackling lightning propelling them.

  A hulking Lycan charged at her, his sword drawn. “You think these flames are hot enough to stop me? Turn them up a few thousand degrees!” he roared, then slashed horizontally.

  She twisted midair, narrowly dodging, and fired a concentrated beam of pure fire back at him.

  He crossed his arms to block, grunting as the blast forced him backward, his clothes igniting, his fur sizzling.

  Dozens more pierced her fiery barrier, almost reaching her.

  Her voice thundered across the battlefield.

  “DIE!”

  Pillars of fire erupted from her body in all directions, vaporizing flesh, splitting bodies apart, sending severed limbs tumbling through the sky.

  She leapt higher into the sky, arm raised.

  And then she formed it.

  A sphere of fire twenty kilometers across appeared above her, the air itself screaming as it boiled.

  Even from two hundred kilometers away, Valerius felt the heat and smirked. “Oh, now that’s hot.”

  On the ground below, people screamed as their flesh evaporated and bones melted, turning to pools of blackened sludge.

  Then—

  A blur shot past Valerius.

  A Leporid, nine feet of muscle and fur, moving at Mach 100.

  He fly towards the flaming woman, his voice amplified with Bravo as he roared, “Fire woman! Bad luck for you! You bathe in flames… but I?” He spread his arms wide. “I control all flames.”

  He spun midair, Bravo surging.

  Her flaming sphere split apart, flames spiraling inward toward him in an impossible dance.

  “What happens,” he bellowed, “when I fortify your flames and make them mine?”

  The flames folded inward, twisting unnaturally as if obeying his will.

  They condensed.

  What had been a blazing sphere twenty kilometers wide now solidified into a single monstrous edge.

  A blade.

  One hundred and twenty-eight kilometers long.

  Its width spanned a dozen kilometers, its spine as thick as towers.

  It was no longer fire.

  It was judgment, forged into a sword.

  Everyone on the island saw it.

  Ziraiah gasped, “Oh my God…”

  Kaelan screamed, “Holy shit!”

  Juvian, Isabela, Elsa — all stared, jaws unhinged in awe.

  Valerius chuckled softly. “Dang. Everyone’s a powerhouse.”

  > “Ohhhhhh… OH YESSSSS!” Balling’s voice exploded across the island like an excited child at a festival. “DO YOU SEE THIS?! LOOK AT THIS ABSOLUTE SEXY MADNESS! OH, YOU BEAUTIFUL LITTLE MONSTERS, YOU ARE REALLY MAKING BALLING’S DAY!”

  > He cackled, voice cracking with delight. “KISS! SOMEONE KISS! THIS IS A PROPOSAL IF I’VE EVER SEEN ONE! GODS ABOVE, THIS IS A SHOW!”

  The fire-woman’s eyes widened. “No…”

  The Leporid’s voice roared across the world.

  “TAKE BACK WHAT IS YOURS!”

  And the sword descended.

  The world screamed.

  The strike carved a trench as deep and wide as the blade itself, ripping through the island with godlike devastation.

  Valerius’s hair whipped in the gale-force shockwave. He couldn’t help but grin. “Now that’s how you make an entrance.”

  To Be Continued...