The air in Pit 1 was no longer just atmosphere; it was a pressurized field of Black Chi, thick as engine oil and twice as heavy. The Astra League semi-finals had arrived, and the crowd—usually a raucous sea of gambling addicts and bored socialites—was unnervingly silent. They weren't just watching a match; they were witnessing a clash of two entirely different worlds of logic.
Cheon Gwan-san, the Young Master of the Demonic Cult, stood at the center of the arena. He wore simple, dark travel robes that fluttered even though there was no wind. He didn't use flashy GSC power-suits. He was a human who had refined his physical and spiritual form to the point where his presence alone was a weapon.
In the maintenance tunnel, Harish (23) sat on a stack of detergent boxes from Ravi & Sons Super Market, holding a lukewarm cup of tea. He wasn't wearing his Mark II armor. He was in his intern jumpsuit, his eyes fixed on the holographic feed.
"Gwan-san's energy isn't demonic in the way people think," Harish noted quietly to himself, blowing steam off his tea. "It's just heavy. It's mass without volume. He has compressed his Chi so much that it has its own gravitational pull. Kaelen is going to feel like she's fighting at the bottom of the Mariana Trench."
He tapped the Chronos-Nexus Watch. He wasn't going to interfere, but he was checking the stress points of the arena. If the fight got too intense, he would have to stabilize the stadium's "logic" so the audience didn't get crushed by the residual shockwaves of a Demonic Cultist's palm strike.
Kaelen stepped onto the sand, her Radiant Aura flaring white-hot. She felt the weight immediately. It felt like a mountain was leaning against her chest, a phantom pressure that made her lungs burn for oxygen.
"Lady Kaelen," Gwan-san said, his voice a calm baritone. "Your growth in this tournament has been remarkable. But your path is still young. Let us see if your light can pierce the depth of the mountain."
"Don't talk to me about paths," Kaelen panted, her hand gripping the hilt of her training sword. "I have a supermarket to protect and a brother who can't even open a pickle jar without looking like he's having a crisis. I don't have time for mountains."
Kaelen moved first. ✨ Radiant Movement: Petal Drift.
She utilized the Sovereign's Pivot, her body spinning with a grace that defied the heavy pressure. She appeared at Gwan-san's flank, her blade tracing a brilliant arc.
Kaelen unleashed a Horizontal Slash aimed at Gwan-san's ribs. Gwan-san didn't dodge. He simply shifted his weight by a fraction of an inch. A pulse of Black Chi erupted from his skin.
[CLANG!]
The sound was like a hammer hitting an anvil. Kaelen's arms went numb instantly. The impact created a small crater in the sand beneath Gwan-san's feet, sending dust spiraling outward.
Gwan-san's hand moved in a slow, hypnotic blur. A Black Chi Palm thrust aimed at Kaelen's solar plexus. Kaelen reacted with a Vertical Block, crossing her forearms. The force of the strike didn't push her back; it vibrated through her bones, rattling her teeth.
Kaelen launched herself upward, using her Radiant Aura as a propellant. From the air, she rained down a Thousand-Point Strike, her blade flickering like a strobe light.
Gwan-san didn't look up. He rotated his shoulders, creating a Vortex of Black Chi that sucked the kinetic energy out of Kaelen's falling strikes. Each time her wood hit his aura, it sounded like a wet log hitting a concrete wall.
[POV: Kaelen]
It's like hitting a wall that hits back, Kaelen thought, her vision blurring from the sheer effort. Every time I touch him, I feel my own energy being swallowed. He isn't just blocking; he's auditing my strength and finding it insufficient. I need to go faster. I need to be... sharper.
Kaelen landed and immediately transitioned into a Low Sweep, followed by a High Roundhouse Kick.
Gwan-san took the kick to the neck. He didn't even flinch. He caught her ankle mid-flight. The pressure of his grip felt like a hydraulic press.
Kaelen ignited her aura in a Burst Release, a blinding flash of light that forced Gwan-san to let go. She flipped backward, her boots dragging deep furrows in the arena sand.
Gwan-san finally moved his feet. He took one step forward, and the distance between them vanished. He used the Demonic Step, appearing in Kaelen's blind spot.
He delivered an Elbow Strike to Kaelen's shoulder. She managed to parry with the flat of her blade, but the wooden sword began to groan and splinter. The shockwave of the parry cracked the reinforced glass of the front-row VIP booths.
Kaelen closed her eyes and focused on the center of her spirit. She unleashed the Solar Flare Thrust, a concentrated beam of white-gold energy.
Gwan-san reached out and literally grabbed the beam of light. He squeezed his fist, and the energy shattered into harmless sparks.
Gwan-san delivered three rapid-fire Palm Strikes to Kaelen's guard. [BAM-BAM-BAM!] Each hit felt like a truck hitting a car. Kaelen's Radiant Aura began to flicker and dim.
Kaelen threw her sword into the air, distracting him for a millisecond, and dove in for a Double-Leg Takedown.
Gwan-san didn't fall. He looked down at her with something like pity. He placed his hand on the back of her neck.
He released a massive wave of Refined Black Chi. The ground for twenty meters around them sank by three inches. The air became so thick that several audience members in the lower tiers fainted from the sudden pressure.
Kaelen tried to stand, her legs shaking, her energy depleted. She finally collapsed to one knee, her breath coming in ragged, bloody gasps.
"WINNER: CHEON GWAN-SAN!" the referee screamed, his voice trembling.
Up in the stands, Silas—the veteran with the brass arm—was leaning so far over the railing he was nearly falling out. Beside him, Jaxon was pale, his tablet dropped on the floor.
"Did you see that?" Silas whispered, his voice cracking. "The girl... she was using Sovereign logic. She was moving at a frequency that should have bypassed his aura. But that Young Master... he isn't a man. He's a gravity well. He just... he just out-weighted her."
"I lost five million in Agnihotri shares because of that girl's previous rounds," Jaxon muttered, his sweat-stained hoodie clinging to him. "But watching that? I don't even care about the money. Look at the pit. The sand has been turned into glass by the heat of her aura, and then crushed into powder by his Chi. It's like a battlefield of the gods."
A group of Murim elders in the VIP section were nodding in solemn approval. "The Young Master has mastered the Absolute Compression," one noted. "To move against him is to move against the rotation of the world itself. That girl was brave, but she was trying to fight a mountain with a flashlight."
The crowd erupted, but the cheers died down as a streak of gold light descended from the rafters. Dollar appeared in the center of the pit.
Gwan-san didn't flinch. He gripped the hilt of his sword, his eyes burning with a competitive fire. "The Gold Knight. Have you come to check if I am worthy of the final match?"
Harish, behind the golden visor, looked at Kaelen, then at Gwan-san. He saw the Young Master's honor—how he hadn't used a single drop of cruelty. He had fought with the weight of a thousand years of tradition.
Harish walked up to Gwan-san. The Young Master tensed, his Black Chi surging in defense. But Harish didn't strike. He simply placed a hand on Gwan-san's shoulder.
With a subtle pulse of the Chronos-Nexus Watch, Harish performed an Internal Meridian Realignment. He "saw" the micro-fractures in Gwan-san's body caused by the sheer density of his own Chi. It was a common tragedy for the Demonic Cult—their power eventually crushed their own vessels.
In a heartbeat, the chronic pain Gwan-san had carried for years vanished. His energy flow became as smooth as a mountain stream.
"A master's path should be clear of debris," dollar's voice resonated, sounding like the deep hum of a celestial bell. "You fought well, Young Master. I have seen your worth. The final audit will be a test of truth, not just strength."
Harish was back in Ravi & Sons Super Market, his hair messy, his hoodie smelling faintly of ozone and detergents. He was frantically trying to open a jar of pickles for Kaelen, who sat on a stool near the register, her shoulder bandaged and her face a mask of frustration.
"I lost, Harish," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I practiced every night. I used the moves the Gold Knight showed in his videos. But Gwan-san... he was just too strong."
"I saw it on the news in the back, Kaelen," Harish said, finally popping the jar open. [POP!] He handed it to her with a sympathetic smile. "He was a good person. He didn't want to hurt you; he wanted to teach you. Even a mountain has a path to the top. Maybe you were just trying to climb it too fast."
"I have to be fast!" Kaelen snapped, then winced as she moved her arm. "How am I supposed to protect you and Mama and Papa if I can't even beat a guy in travel robes? The world is getting dangerous, Harish. The Agnihotri clan, the Murim sects... they're all circling this shop like vultures."
"Well, speaking of vultures," Harish said, nodding toward the front door.
Vikas Agnihotri entered the supermarket. But he didn't enter like a billionaire CEO. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost. His expensive suit was wrinkled, and his hands were trembling. As soon as he saw Harish standing behind the counter, Vikas dropped into a full kowtow, his forehead hitting the linoleum with a loud [THUMP].
"Mr. Vikas! Not again!" Kaelen cried out, nearly dropping her pickles. "Why do you keep doing this?"
"I... I am just checking if the floor is cold!" Vikas shouted into the floor tiles, his voice muffled. "It is very cold! I must go check the milk crates now!"
Harish smiled at Kaelen, his simple "intern" mask perfectly in place. "See? Everything is fine. Rich people are just... eccentric. Now, let's get that soldering iron. I saw a crack in your training sword's hilt—I'll fix it so it never breaks again."
Kaelen looked at her 23-year-old brother. He looked so normal. So harmless. And yet, every time he "fixed" something, it never broke again. Not once.
"Harish," Kaelen said, her voice dropping. "Why did Mr. Vikas's father, Vikramaditya, send me a gift yesterday? A genuine High-Elf healing potion? He said it was 'interest on a debt.' What debt could a billionaire owe a grocery store?"
Harish froze for a microsecond, his hand on the soldering iron. "Oh, you know Papa. He probably gave Vikramaditya a discount on bulk rice twenty years ago. Papa never forgets a customer, and apparently, neither does a billionaire."
Kaelen narrowed her eyes. "That's a lie, Harish. You're a terrible liar."
"I'm a great repairman, though," Harish countered, holding up the splintered wooden sword. "Give me five minutes. I'll 'solder' the grain of the wood back together. I'll make it so strong that even Gwan-san's mountain Chi will feel like a summer breeze."
As he walked away toward the workshop at the back of the store, Kaelen looked at the floor where Vikas had been kneeling. There was a faint, glowing indentation in the linoleum—not from weight, but from the sheer pressure of Vikas's fear.
In the back room, Harish sat surrounded by crates of soap and canned tomatoes. He picked up the wooden hilt and his ₹200 soldering iron. But he didn't plug it in.
He closed his eyes, and the Chronos-Nexus Watch ignited.
"Great Sage," Harish whispered.
[TING!]
"Master. The Young Master Gwan-san has entered a state of 'Perfect Harmony' thanks to your realignment. The Murim Unorthodox are confused by his sudden lack of hostility toward the Auditor."
"Good," Harish said. He touched the splintered wood. With a pulse of Sovereign Chi, the wood didn't just mend; it transformed. The molecular structure of the pine became denser than diamond, the fibers weaving together in a pattern of "Absolute Logic."
"Master, Vikas Agnihotri's fear levels are at 98%," the Sage continued. "He is currently reorganizing the milk crates in alphabetical order by cow name."
Harish chuckled, a dark, rich sound. "Let him. It'll keep him busy. But Kaelen is getting too close to the truth. She recognized the Sovereign's Pivot."
"Shall I perform a Memory Audit on Lady Kaelen, Master?"
Harish's expression softened. He looked at the closed door, imagining his sister's frustrated, determined face. "No. Never her. If she finds the truth, she finds it. But until then... I have to stay focused, remembering the second match in the semi finals is my turn."