June 4th.
The skies above the floating arena were the color of molten amber. Beneath them, the place was alive with sound and spectacle. Tens of thousands filled its colossal terraces.
High above, in one of the secluded VIP balconies, Seirath Rameses sat with his hands folded before his mouth, his eyes watching the ring in contemplative silence. Behind him, two guards stood at attention. He didn't turn when he felt a familiar presence beside him.
"You told me to come here, Seirath. Why?"
He looked over and gave a faint smile.
"Because I wanted you to see your son, Anastelle."
Anastelle gracefully sat beside him. She was a vision of poise, dressed in her usually commander's outfit. She turned her gaze toward the ring.
"So… he's the one fighting your daughter?"
"Yes. Phyri Ahmose Rameses, the fourth among my five daughters. Watch closely, Commander Anastelle."
Below them, the battle between The Lone Nomad, and Phyri Ahmose Rameses was already underway.
The ring was coated with a thin sheet of frost. Phyri stood amidst the ice mist, her Egyptian daggers glowing a cold cerulean hue. Every breath she exhaled shimmered into vapor. Her eyes were locked on the tall figure across from her.
Phaser stood calmly, one hand loosely raised while seven void needles orbited lazily around him. His dark cloak and tunic swayed in the icy wind, his long dark hair brushing across his cheeks.
Phyri lunged first. Her daggers sliced through the air, sending razor-thin ice arcs that glittered like diamond shards. The temperature dropped instantly. Phaser didn't flinch. The void around him shimmered. He stepped aside, letting her blades slice through an afterimage. One of the void needles flashed forward, barely grazing her cheek, leaving a faint black line of nothingness where space had been erased.
"His movements are amazing. He's not even using his full speed."
"He's not. He doesn't need to. My daughter's trained in the advanced Xana forms. Her timing, her precision and her adaptive instinct are the result of years under the best mentors. But him? He got here in two months. Two."
Anastelle's lips parted slightly. "You're serious?"
"I don't joke about talent. He's an anomaly. His growth rate is unnatural. Phaser doesn't learn. He absorbs what he sees. It's as if every fight he's ever had rewrites his instincts."
In the ring, Phyri spun into a cyclone of frost, her daggers forming an ice vortex that shot toward Phaser. The audience gasped as the ring filled with white smoke and frozen mist.
A void pulse erupted from the center of the vortex, black waves dispersing the ice storm like dust. Phaser stepped forward, unharmed. The seven needles expanded, splitting into fourteen, forming a rotating sphere around him. He lifted his hand and the void condensed into his palm like a miniaturized black hole.
"He's still calculating," Seirath murmured. "He is not making any unnecessary moves."
Phyri dashed forward again, channeling her Xana through her entire body. Ice trails followed her feet as she appeared in front of him, her daggers raised. Phaser's eyes flicked once.
In that instant, his void needles formed a shield, each spinning, each intercepting her strikes perfectly. The sound of metal clashing against void resonated like thunder. Sparks of void and frost scattered across the floor. Phyri tried to feint left but Phaser parried. She reversed her grip and he sidestepped. She sent a shockwave of frost from below but he jumped lightly, as if gravity were nothing to him.
"Seirath, you're telling me my son achieved all this in two months?"
"Yes. He trained under me for that time. My daughters had years to perfect their crafts. But Phaser learns as if he's already experienced it before."
Down below, Phyri unleashed a powerful ice burst, forming a frozen spire from beneath the ground. Phaser's afterimage shattered against it only for the real one to appear behind her, a void needle grazing her shoulder. She spun, striking out wildly, but he simply caught her wrist.
Her ice shattered under the pressure of his grip. He looked at her calmly, then pushed her back with a controlled pulse of void energy. The entire audience gasped as she slid several meters backward, barely keeping her footing.
"Even now, he's holding back. He hasn't even tried using his full Elemental Flux."
They both turned their eyes back to the fight. Phaser raised his hand again and the seven void needles aligned into a circular pattern. His void expanded, forming a growing sphere in his palm.
"Lady Phyri!" One of the commentators shouted. "She's losing ground! The Lone Nomad is—wait—what's that!?"
The void sphere exploded outward not as an attack, but as a shockwave that shattered every ice construct in the ring. The cold vapor cleared, revealing Phaser standing calmly in the center, void smoke coiling around his hand.
Phyri was on one knee, breathing heavily. Her frost-covered daggers shattered beside her. Phaser lowered his hand. He didn't strike again. He simply said, softly but audibly enough for the front rows to hear.
"You're great but your rhythm gave you away. You're too predictable."
Phyri's eyes widened slightly, and then she faintly smiled, lowering her head in acknowledgment. The host's voice boomed across the arena.
"AND THE WINNER OF THE SECOND RAMSESES CHALLENGE, THE LONE NOMAD!"
The stadium erupted. The sound was deafening with roars of approval, disbelief, and awe colliding in a wave of human emotion. Phaser extended his hand. Phyri hesitated, then smiled weakly and took it. He helped her up gently, brushing frost off her shoulder before giving her a brief nod. Then he turned and walked away, his cloak swaying behind him as the void dissipated like black mist.
Anastelle exhaled slowly. "He's changed."
Seirath nodded. "That he has. He's already beyond what I expected. My daughters are formidable but this one Anastelle… this one's different. He fights as if everything depends on learning and on perfecting himself."
Anastelle looked at him with a half-smile. "You almost sound proud."
Seirath chuckled faintly. "Proud? I'm terrified. You should come again the day after tomorrow. That's when he faces my eldest .Hinesia."
Anastelle arched an eyebrow. "The Fourth Awakening one?"
"The only one in the Októ Category besides me," Seirath confirmed. "She's a monster even among monsters. If Phaser wins that one, I'll personally teach him the Augere technique of the House of Rameses passed on for centuries."
He turned his gaze back to the ring as the crowd erupted again. This time, the announcers were speaking of Radellei's forfeit. The revelation spread like wildfire. People gasped, whispered and speculated.
Anastelle frowned slightly. "Radellei forfeited?"
"Yes. She grew fond of him. They've fought together as a duo team for weeks now. She didn't want to face someone who knew her every move. So, she chose to forfeit."
"And you allowed it?"
"I did. Because she's right. Phaser doesn't fight like a warrior. He fights like an assassin. Against him, you can't use patterns. He'll dissect them before you blink, just like Hinesia."
Down below, Phaser bowed once toward the audience before exiting the ring. His calm expression didn't change, even as tens of thousands shouted his name.
Anastelle watched him go, a faint smirk forming on her lips.
"That boy's going to shake the world someday. I might stay to watch his fight with you blind daughter too. I want to recruit her to my squad."
Seirath looked at her, then back at the arena.
"Then shall we see them?"