The cube remained suspended at the center of the chamber like an impossible structure, transparent and flawless, its edges traced by faint lines of light barely visible in the air. Fifteen hundred square meters of sealed space contained by technology that, until minutes ago, had rejected any contact as if the air itself defended it.
Then, without warning, Enryu moved.
There was no visible preparation. No dramatic gathering of force. No gesture announcing intent.
He simply walked.
The first step was firm, calm, like a man crossing the threshold of his own home.
His hand brushed the surface.
There was no rebound.
No vibration.
No resistance.
The structure that had expelled anyone with an invisible shock, an impact sharp enough to shatter balance at the slightest touch, simply allowed him through.
Enryu passed the barrier as if it were mist.
The silence that followed weighed more than any explosion.
In the control room, the system had not yet been activated. Until that moment, touching the cube meant immediate rejection, a controlled but violent force that hurled the intruder backward. It was impossible to enter before its official opening.
But he had.
Elaryn slowly turned toward her grandfather. Her eyes, usually steady, were now wide with disbelief and disorientation.
Not even him.
Not even one of the most powerful emperors since the dynasty's founding could have ignored the containment system like that.
Her gaze returned to the cube.
Enryu already stood inside, motionless at the center, as though the space had belonged to him before it was ever built.
Who is going to fight that monster?
The thought crossed her mind shapeless, unspoken.
Theron said nothing, but his expression hardened for a fraction of a second. That had not been brute force. It was something else. Something he had never seen.
Therion wore the same rigidity. Disbelief mixed with partial understanding of what that gesture implied.
Mael let out a short laugh that died too quickly.
Not mockery.
Tension disguised.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaled slowly, and took his seat.
"This fight is going to be magnificent."
He said it quietly, but anticipation failed to conceal the unease crawling along his spine.
The designated leader, visibly unsettled, stepped forward without taking his eyes off the cube. He chose a seat beside Mael. From there, he could observe the entire structure, every angle, every possible movement within that sealed space.
It was the best vantage point.
Lyra, meanwhile, showed no astonishment. Her curious eyes wandered the scene without grasping its gravity. To her, the cube was simply a bright object in the hall.
One by one, they sat.
The murmurs faded.
Only Elaryn, Theron, and Daverion remained standing.
Daverion broke the silence naturally.
"Any scenario you wish to set will be fine."
His tone was calm. No challenge. No arrogance.
Theron nodded once. He offered no reply, turned, and walked toward the control chamber, his cloak gliding behind him in restrained motion.
When the doors closed behind him, the space felt larger.
Only Elaryn and Daverion remained before the cube.
She watched her grandfather disappear into the upper control room. Then she looked at Daverion.
She studied him.
So young.
No visible aura.
No pressure.
No crushing presence distorting the air.
And yet—
It's him.
He's going to fight that monster.
Her eyes shifted to the cube's interior, where Enryu stood unmoving.
I don't believe it.
She looked back at Daverion.
He emanated nothing.
No sensation.
Nothing to justify facing someone who had just walked through a barrier built to repel even the strongest.
She opened her mouth.
"Oye, t—"
She never finished.
Daverion stepped forward.
Just one step.
The floor beneath his foot barely made a sound.
In the next blink, he was no longer beside her.
Elaryn felt a void in her field of vision. Her pupils dilated as she turned sharply.
Where...?
Her eyes locked onto the cube.
He was there.
Standing before the transparent structure.
She had not seen the path. Had not perceived the displacement. He had simply ceased to be at her side.
Daverion extended his hand.
His fingers touched the surface.
Elaryn held her breath.
She expected the rebound.
The invisible blow.
The shockwave that would send him backward.
Nothing happened.
The barrier did not react.
Did not tremble.
Did not reject him.
His fingers passed through as though the surface did not exist.
His palm followed.
Then his arm.
He stepped forward.
And crossed.
Elaryn watched, unable to look away, as Daverion entered without opposition, just as Enryu had.
The structure meant to contain them accepted him.
For the first time since the cube had been installed, two people stood inside without activation.
In the control room, Theron stood before the main panel, hands resting against its luminous surface as he observed the suspended cube.
His eyes closed briefly.
He would not choose neutral ground.
If this fight was to happen, it would happen in a place with structure, with weight, with physical limits that would test every movement.
His fingers moved across the panel.
Lines of light within the cube shifted.
The empty space fragmented, as if reality inside were being rewritten layer by layer.
The floor came first.
Wide planks of dark wood extended from the center outward, locking together with perfect precision. It was no ordinary wood. The texture was dense, compact, its deep grain almost metallic. Forged under spiritual pressure, harder than tempered steel, capable of withstanding devastating impact without splintering easily.
Then the space began to rise.
Buildings formed along the interior perimeter, shaping a vast central courtyard.
The Star-Breaking Sect.
Most structures were reinforced wood, strengthened at key points with dark beams and concealed internal plates. Thick columns supported layered sloped roofs. The walls bore austere carvings, discipline etched into every surface.
The central courtyard was wide, perfectly square, ample space for unrestricted combat.
Around it, the buildings formed an almost closed ring.
Second floors projected inward with long balconies and elevated corridors overlooking the center. Solid wooden railings lined the upper walkways. Sliding doors remained shut, concealing inner chambers.
Everything contained.
Everything bounded.
But not fragile.
The specialized wood was built to endure. It would not yield to ordinary strikes. It would have to be violently overcome.
From the control room, Theron watched the simulation complete. The air inside the cube warmed slightly, as though light filtered through invisible rice paper.
No wind.
No sound.
Only the courtyard, surrounded by structures ready to become casualties of the clash to come.
Inside, Enryu stood at the center.
Daverion stood several paces away.
Both on the dark wooden floor.
Around them, the second-level balconies formed a silent amphitheater.
From outside the cube, the observers could see everything.
They could imagine what would happen when a body was hurled into a column.
When a wall gave way.
When a railing exploded into splinters.
When a second floor cracked under the impact of a precisely thrown body.
The courtyard was not merely a stage.
It was a structure destined to be destroyed.
And every surrounding building would witness how two existences that should not be bound by anything chose to fight with nothing but their bodies.
Theron slowly withdrew his hands from the panel.
The stage was set.
Inside the cube, the Star-Breaking Sect waited in silence.
And at its center, the distance between Daverion and Enryu remained unbroken.
Suspended.
They hovered several meters above the floor while the last particles of light dissipated beneath their feet.
No wind.
No sound.
Only the faint settling of wood.
They descended at the same time.
Not falling.
Choosing.
Their bodies lowered with controlled slowness, as if gravity had regained permission to touch them.
Enryu's robes barely moved. He descended straight, stable, without sway.
Daverion lowered with his arms relaxed at his sides, gaze fixed forward.
Their feet touched wood.
A dry sound.
Contained.
A dull strike that echoed through the courtyard and faded along the upper corridors.
The reinforced wood did not sink.
Did not creak.
It bore their weight absolutely.
Enryu set heel first, then full sole. He made a minute adjustment with his right foot, testing friction. His toes flexed subtly within his footwear.
Daverion did the same.
One step.
Then a shorter one.
Feet slightly apart. Base established.
They now stood precisely at the center, surrounded by silent buildings waiting intact.
The distance between them did not exceed ten meters.
The dark wood reflected warm descending light.
Enryu did not adopt a stance yet.
Did not raise fists.
Did not tense shoulders.
He simply spoke.
"They say your foundation is clear."
His voice was steady. No mockery. No excessive praise. He watched how Daverion distributed his weight across the wood.
"For someone like you, reaching fourth place isn't coincidence. Your understanding must be exceptional."
As he spoke, he advanced half a step.
Not to attack.
To adjust distance.
His rear heel slid slightly. His center lowered a few centimeters. Hips aligned.
Testing reaction.
Daverion did not answer.
His breathing did not change.
But his weight shifted subtly toward his lead leg. Not much. Just enough to enter or exit in an instant.
He neither accepted nor rejected the praise.
He listened.
The wood underfoot felt firm. Too firm. No excuse for losing balance.
Enryu noticed the micro-adjustment.
Then he understood something.
Not arrogance.
Calculation.
"Enviable."
The word fell softly.
But his lead foot rotated inward, closing the angle.
Now they were within real distance.
Five meters.
Four.
The air thickened.
Daverion felt the intent before he saw it.
Not immediate attack.
Pressure.
Enryu did not want to strike first without reading.
He wanted to provoke an entry.
Daverion lowered his chin slightly. His left shoulder advanced a centimeter.
Not a threat.
An invitation.
Come.
The tension was not in their arms.
It was in their soles.
In the way each sought control of the other's center without appearing to move.
No one on the balconies breathed.
Daverion moved first.
It was not impulse.
It was decision.
His lead foot came down with full weight, not merely settling but driving into the floor. The reinforced wood resisted… and still it cracked beneath the brutal compression of his aligned structure. The force did not begin in his arm. It rose from the ground, traveled through leg, hip, spine, and detonated at the shoulder.
His fist shot straight toward Enryu's face.
There was no warning.
Enryu was already shifting his center as the trajectory entered his space. He rotated his torso left, but he did not merely move his head. He removed his entire axis. His rear heel pivoted, weight dropping into the back leg, spine tilting just enough for the strike to pass along the edge of his field.
The punch split the air with such pressure that the shock rattled the second-level railings.
Enryu's hair moved.
There was no impact.
Daverion did not retract.
His wrist turned inward. His elbow sank, loading weight into the hip. The path changed in the middle of emptiness. His open hand returned from nowhere toward Enryu's head.
Not a second attack.
A continuation.
Enryu reacted. His left arm shot out on a short line, seeking to intercept the forearm before the palm could complete its arc. He did not block with force. He targeted the elbow point, aiming to break alignment.
He had the angle.
He had the read.
Then he felt it.
Not visible slowness.
Internal friction.
His muscles obeyed… a fraction late.
At the edge of his vision he saw it.
A faint gray mist clinging to the skin.
His jaw tightened.
"Laziness," Daverion murmured.
The palm struck the side of his skull.
Enryu dropped his center instantly, hips sinking, knees bending to avoid being torn off the ground. He redirected half the force into the wood, driving through the sole at the moment of impact.
The floor burst into radial cracks.
The remaining energy hurled him sideways.
His ear rang.
His vision trembled for a second.
He planted hard before crossing the courtyard's boundary. The shock climbed from ankle to knee. Bone protested.
Annoyance.
Not crippling pain.
But real.
He looked back at Daverion.
He was gone.
The mist remained.
It did not weaken him.
It eroded timing.
That irritated him.
Not outwardly.
Inside.
He dropped to his knees without looking.
The descending blow from behind cut through the air where his neck had been.
From the ground he extended his left leg and rotated his entire hip. The sweep did not only seek to topple. It sought to sever the axis, to force Daverion's weight onto a single leg.
Daverion saw it.
He jumped the minimum necessary.
Not high.
Just enough for the heel to pass beneath him.
He landed with slight imbalance.
Enryu was already facing him.
A fist drove out from the center of his body, short, heavy, structurally aligned. It was not fast from raw speed. It was fast because it traveled no wasted distance.
Daverion saw it.
Slower than usual.
He was measuring.
Instead of blocking head-on, he stepped half a beat into the line. He rotated his torso, let the strike graze his ribs, and caught the forearm.
He did not collide.
He adhered.
His center dropped lower than Enryu's. He pulled backward while rotating his hip. Not strength against strength.
Imbalance against structure.
He felt the exact instant Enryu's weight passed beyond support.
Then he threw him.
The impact shook the courtyard.
The second level groaned.
Dust lifted.
But Enryu did not remain down.
In the rebound he compressed his abdomen, bent one knee, and rolled over his shoulder. The ground returned him with the same energy it had received.
He stood before Daverion could close in.
Daverion registered it.
Internal calculation.
More resilient than expected.
Enryu moved his hand.
Not dramatic.
A push from the center.
The air compressed and shattered wood fragments launched toward Daverion like an irregular wall.
Daverion covered his central line and shifted right.
Enryu had already read that pattern.
He was waiting there.
The punch landed.
Ribs.
Daverion absorbed by rotating his torso, but the blow tore the air from his lungs. Heat flared beneath the rib cage. He felt something warm trace along his side.
Real pain.
He answered with a knee to the abdomen.
Enryu closed his hips, deflected with his thigh, and caught the arm continuing the sequence. He pressed into the shoulder joint, seeking hyperextension.
Daverion released before the ligament gave.
They separated half a step.
Reentered.
Hip against hip.
Forearm against clavicle.
One drove forward seeking to break posture.
The other sank his center to refuse.
Whenever one lost alignment, the other punished.
There was no clean exchange.
There was constant struggle for the axis.
Enryu began to feel the mist as an irritating weight. It did not weaken him… it stole precision. Each correction demanded more adjustment.
His breathing grew louder.
Daverion noticed.
He was counting.
Not strikes.
Errors.
A fraction late.
An overcorrected angle.
Excess pressure compensating for delay.
Enryu was lifted by a kick that slipped under his ribcage the instant his center rose too high. His body ascended several meters.
He fell on his back.
The floor cratered beneath him.
The impact tore an involuntary sound from his throat.
He rolled before Daverion descended.
In another sequence, Daverion was caught. Enryu closed distance, wrapped the torso, rotated weight with his hip as fulcrum. Daverion was hurled into a railing.
The reinforced wood held.
But splintered.
A sharp pain ran across Daverion's back.
They were breathing harder now.
Sweat mixed with dust.
The floor was webbed with cracks.
Columns fractured.
Shockwaves rippled through the cube.
The sound of impact filled the chamber.
Some strikes produced waves that passed through the structure and made the outer hall tremble faintly.
In the seats, many could no longer follow them.
The screen above the cube displayed the fight with minimal delay, magnifying each collision, each rotation, each fall.
Elaryn covered her mouth with both hands.
She could not understand how someone younger than her could move like that… break like that… endure like that.
Therion did not look away.
"This is astonishing."
Theron, in the control room, watched with a furrowed brow.
If this was only physical… he did not want to imagine the rest.
Mael leaned forward, elbows on knees, unblinking.
The designated leader swallowed, remembering his conflict with Daverion.
Lyra cheered softly, not fully grasping the magnitude.
Inside the courtyard, Daverion blocked an elbow with his forearm. The impact numbed his fingers.
He used the contact to shove and create space.
They separated by several meters.
Both chests rising faster now.
The mist still lingered.
Enryu hated it.
Not because of weakness.
Because of interference.
Daverion watched him.
He had measured enough.
"Stop holding back."
His voice was lower.
Colder.
"I don't need you playing with me."
His eyes showed no emotion.
"Show me that martial art they say doesn't belong to this world."
The air between them tightened.
Not invitation.
Direct challenge.
And this time, neither intended to step back.