The backstage of The Masked Legend felt less like a television studio and more like a battlefield.
Bright white lights hung overhead like interrogation lamps. Wires snaked across the floor. Assistants whispered urgently into headsets. Camera operators adjusted lenses with tense precision. Every breath carried expectation.
Twelve contestants stood scattered across the wide backstage hall.
They were the elite.
Each one masked. Each one dressed in a persona carefully crafted to conceal their identity and amplify their myth. There was The Knight, clad in polished silver armor. The Siren, draped in shimmering blue scales. The Maestro, wrapped in black and gold like a fallen conductor.
And then there was her.
Avery Rivers.
No—The Phoenix.
She stood still, almost unnaturally so, near the edge of the stage entrance. Her gown flowed like living fire—crimson and gold threads woven so finely they caught and bent the light. With every subtle movement, the feathers along her sleeves shimmered as if smoldering from within.
The mask hid her face, but it could not hide her presence.
The air around her felt… heavier.
Colder.
As if something ancient had awakened.
[System Notification: New Quest Unlocked — 'First Note Shock'][Objective: Silence the judging panel within the first 30 seconds of performance.][Reward: High-Definition Video Editing Skill (Master Level).]
Avery acknowledged it silently.
Thirty seconds.
That was more than enough.
The judges' table was visible through a gap in the curtains.
Four figures sat there—industry giants, veterans who had seen every trick, heard every voice, crushed every hopeful singer who dared dream too loudly.
One was a legendary composer known for destroying contestants with a single raised eyebrow. Another was a diva whose standards were infamous. The third was a ruthless producer with Titan Management ties. The fourth was a veteran critic whose silence could end careers.
They were laughing.
Relaxed.
Unimpressed.
They thought this was entertainment.
Avery's fingers curled slightly at her side.
Good.
Beside her stood The Knight.
He was tall. Broad-shouldered. His armor gleamed under the lights, reflecting authority and confidence. The faint hum of his aura told Avery everything she needed to know.
A professional.
Not an amateur idol.
Not a desperate contestant.
He leaned slightly toward her, his metallic mask tilted in casual arrogance.
"A phoenix?" he said with a low chuckle. "That's your concept?"
His gaze flicked over her costume—lingering deliberately on the simplicity beneath the feathers.
"Careful," he continued. "Fire burns fast. This stage eats amateurs alive. Don't burn out too early, little bird."
Several nearby contestants glanced over.
Some amused.
Some curious.
Some already dismissive.
Avery didn't look at him.
She didn't respond.
She simply lifted one hand and adjusted the edge of her mask.
The crimson feathers shifted.
And for a brief moment—
The Knight felt it.
A sharp chill.
Like a blade brushing his throat.
He frowned beneath his mask, unsettled for reasons he couldn't explain.
Avery's eyes, hidden but focused, were calm.
Ice-cold.
Absolute.
The stage manager's voice crackled through the speakers.
"Contestant Number Seven. The Phoenix. Stand by."
Avery stepped forward.
Each step echoed softly against the floor.
The crowd beyond the curtain roared—not for her, not yet, but for the spectacle, for the unknown.
She paused at the edge of the curtain.
[System Status: Dimensionality Reduction — Active.][Audience Emotional Readiness: High.][Judge Bias Level: Severe Skepticism.]
Perfect.
The lights dimmed.
The host's voice boomed through the studio.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Our next performer… a mystery wrapped in fire. Will she rise—or will she fall?"
The curtain pulled back.
Silence.
For half a heartbeat, the entire studio froze.
Then—
A collective gasp.
The Phoenix stepped into the light.
The crimson gown ignited under the stage lamps, glowing like molten gold. The feathers shimmered, casting shifting shadows that danced like flames across the stage floor.
She didn't rush.
She didn't wave.
She didn't bow.
She walked to the center of the stage and stopped.
Stillness.
No music yet.
No backing track.
Just her.
The judges leaned forward slightly, curiosity piqued despite themselves.
The audience murmured.
Who is she?That costume…She looks expensive.No—she looks dangerous.
Avery closed her eyes.
Thirty seconds.
She didn't need the full thirty.
The first sound was not music.
It was a breath.
Deep.
Controlled.
Amplified just enough to be heard.
The judges frowned.
Then—
She sang.
One note.
Low.
Raw.
Unaccompanied.
It cut through the studio like a blade through silk.
The effect was immediate.
The murmurs died.
The audience stilled.
The judges' smiles vanished.
Avery opened her eyes.
Her voice rose—not loud, not flashy—but heavy. Each syllable carried weight, history, pain, and defiance layered so densely it pressed against the listeners' chests.
[System Feedback: Emotional Dominance Achieved.]
Ten seconds.
The diva judge's lips parted slightly.
Fifteen seconds.
The composer's pen froze mid-air.
Twenty seconds.
The Titan-affiliated producer leaned forward unconsciously.
Twenty-five seconds.
The veteran critic stopped breathing.
Avery shifted the melody—just slightly.
A key change.
A risk.
A master's move.
Her voice expanded, unfolding into harmonics no one expected, notes overlapping with themselves, creating the illusion of multiple voices rising from a single throat.
[System Notification: Vocal Resonance—Beyond Industry Standards.]
Thirty seconds.
Silence.
Not because the song ended.
But because no one dared interrupt it.
The judges were frozen.
The audience sat spellbound.
Even backstage, contestants stared at the monitors, mouths dry.
The Knight's fist clenched.
What the hell is this…?
Avery continued.
Now the music began—slow, deliberate, minimal. Every beat served her voice, not the other way around. She wasn't singing to the audience.
She was commanding them.
By the time she reached the first chorus, tears streamed down faces in the front rows.
Phones shook in trembling hands.
Social media exploded in real time.
"WHO IS THE PHOENIX?!""This isn't a performance. This is an execution.""I forgot how to breathe."
Backstage, Elias watched the feed, heart pounding.
"She did it," he whispered. "In fifteen seconds… she crushed them."
[Quest Complete: 'First Note Shock'][Reward Granted: High-Definition Video Editing Skill (Master Level).]
Avery felt the System settle into place.
But she didn't smile.
She didn't need to.
The stage already belonged to her.
The Phoenix had entered.
And the legend had begun.
End of Chapter 2