Chapter 16: The Fire Beneath
The crowd quieted for a heartbeat as the next fighter stepped forward.
He was tall, lean, dressed in black robes trimmed with silver thread. In his hand, he held a long saber—nothing ornate, but perfectly maintained. It caught the morning light and reflected it in a cold gleam.
Kael didn't recognize him, but he didn't need to.
Because the reaction from the crowd said it all.
"Riven Arclow! Riven Arclow! Brother Riven!"
The chant rose like thunder. It wasn't just one side cheering—disciples from both factions, even those who had stayed silent before, now joined in. The name spread through the canyon like wildfire.
Even Little Abacus stopped bouncing. His eyes sparkled with fervor as he leaned toward Kael and whispered, "That's Brother Riven. We call him the Iron Gale. Fast, ruthless, never lost a match. Even some of the outer sect instructors are wary of him."
Kael watched as the young man named Riven Arclow strode into the center of the ring, calm as a winter lake. His face showed no emotion, only focus. He didn't posture. He didn't even acknowledge the cheers. Instead, he closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and waited.
The opposing side hesitated.
Then, a figure emerged—one of the noble-backed disciples. He wore a deep green tunic embroidered with gold, and his sword was slim and elegant. But the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. His grip on the hilt was just a little too tight.
Kael exhaled slowly. He already knew how this would end.
The moment the signal was given, the match erupted.
Riven Arclow moved like lightning—one step, two, then a blur. The noble's sword lashed out in panic, but it met only air. In a heartbeat, Riven was behind him.
A single blow.
The noble's sword spun away. He fell to his knees, clutching his arm.
Silence. Then an eruption of cheers that made the cliff walls tremble.
Kael didn't cheer. He didn't need to.
He had seen something else.
Not just speed.Not just strength.
But control. Precision honed by obsession. Purpose hidden behind cold eyes.
This wasn't just a prodigy.This was someone raised on expectation. Fed by pressure.And molded into a weapon.
Riven Arclow turned without a word and walked back to his side of the field. He didn't raise his saber in triumph. He didn't smile.
He didn't need to.
Kael watched him fade into the crowd, eyes lingering just a moment longer.
There were many kinds of power in the world.
Riven's was the kind that others built—and feared.