Midday bled molten gold across the volcanic crown of the Dread Arena.
The wards over the team brackets burned brighter than before—layered domes of blood-red force shimmering under mounting strain. Contained terror pressed visibly against the barriers, rippling like storm winds trapped beneath glass.
The crater stands were packed to suffocation.
Clan envoys leaned forward in their elevated boxes, jeweled insignias glinting. Instructors clustered along the observation towers. The remaining cohort gathered in the lower tiers—some in awe…
Most in unease.
Crimson interfaces stretched across the sky, projecting the cohort bracket in burning glyphs:
**Four Alliances.
Single Elimination.
One Path to the Final.**
---
### Participant Pit — Core Alignment
Xia Ying stood with his trio at the edge of the combat descent ramp.
Lin Mei's healer aura pulsed beside him—steady, luminous, unwavering. Devotion radiated from her like warmth in winter shadow.
Wei Jun's eyes glowed faintly as tracker overlays ran continuously across his vision, mapping aura density, fear fluctuations, formation tendencies.
The air itself tasted sharp—thick with dread leaks bleeding from the island's core.
"First match," Wei Jun murmured, slate hovering beside him. "Balanced alliance. Tank, ranged, support. Standard triangle formation. Backline fear resistance weakest."
Xia Ying inclined his head once.
Shadows at his feet stretched—just slightly too long for the sun overhead.
"We dismantle from within," he said quietly. "No wasted exertion."
Lin Mei touched his sleeve—gentle, grounding.
"I'll sustain us through anything," she whispered. "Your will is mine to protect."
---
## Round One — Fractured Battlefield
The ward dome sealed.
Reality shattered.
The pocket arena reshaped into a war-torn obsidian wasteland—jagged spires erupting from cracked earth while dread horrors clawed up from fissures like birthed nightmares.
Their opponents formed instantly:
Tank forward.
Ranged high ground.
Support rear anchor.
Textbook.
Predictable.
Wei Jun moved first.
Tracker pulses rippled across the field.
"Left spire—ranged weak point. Support anchoring fear resistance. Tank charging center."
The clash ignited.
Xia Ying did not advance.
He orchestrated.
Subtle Terror Aura pulses dispersed invisibly—precision seeds planted mid-exchange.
The ranged attacker faltered mid-shot.
Doubt blurred his aim.
The support's ward flickered as phantom whispers bloomed:
*They'll abandon you.*
*You'll be left alone when the horrors come.*
Lin Mei sustained flawlessly—radiant light sealing phantom wounds and restoring essence.
A dread horror lunged—
She intercepted the terror spike, over-drawing her reserves.
Her face paled.
Her voice did not waver.
"I've got the core. Push."
Xia Ying released the first Projection burst.
Short.
Surgical.
The tank froze mid-charge.
In his mind, formation collapsed—teammates turning on him under paranoia, strength inverting to brittle fragility as arena horrors laughed in his own voice.
He roared—
And struck sideways.
At his allies.
The ranged attacker broke next.
Projection showed arrows reversing—piercing his own flesh while the cohort watched in disgust.
He dropped his bow screaming.
Support tried to stabilize—
Shadow Tendrils lashed out, binding limbs as Aura seeds bloomed fully.
Formation shattered.
Yield followed in under four minutes.
The dome lifted.
The crowd reacted in uneasy murmurs rather than cheers.
"They never even closed distance…"
"It's like the accidents—but coordinated."
"One mind controlling three bodies…"
Harvest flooded Xia Ying's core—layered, multi-threaded terror richer than solo breaks.
Projection fluidity deepened.
Group targeting instincts began to form.
---
## Parallel Field — Flameheart Advance
Across the blazing main arena, Zuo Flameheart's alliance roared forward in incandescent dominance.
Phoenix constructs erupted skyward—wingspan blotting the sun.
Flame walls chained across the battlefield, incinerating spawning horrors.
"Burn!" Zuo bellowed. "Flameheart supremacy clears all!"
The enemy tank was blasted clear across the arena in a volcanic shockwave.
Clan envoys rose applauding.
Victory came swift.
Spectacular.
Yet Xia Ying, observing during transition, saw the fracture widen.
One phoenix wing collapsed mid-dive.
Zuo's aura sputtered for a heartbeat.
A teammate hesitated—earning a panicked snarl from Zuo that cracked their formation rhythm.
After victory, Zuo stood breathing heavily… eyes flicking toward Xia Ying's arena.
Surface dominance.
Hollow foundation.
---
## Round Two — Resistance Formation
The trio's next opponents specialized in mental resistance—tight emotional wards, anti-illusion training.
The arena became a dense fog labyrinth—terrain shifting to isolate combatants while horrors spawned at accelerated rates.
Wei Jun adjusted instantly.
"Their strength is formation cohesion. Break the emotional anchor."
Lin Mei reinforced protective veils, absorbing dread pressure so Xia Ying could operate freely.
"I can hold," she said. "Focus on them."
Aura seeds planted earlier bloomed.
Projection escalated.
The emotional anchor froze—confronting a nightmare where his team dissolved into Veil puppets, loyalty revealed as illusion while he stood alone.
His wards cracked.
Shadow Tendrils restrained physical threats.
Projection pulses shattered the rest—each facing personalized collapse:
Clan rejection.
Flaw inversion.
Abandonment.
Resistance made the breaking sweeter.
They surrendered mid-panic.
Harvest surged—denser, more refined.
Projection duration extended again.
---
## Lounge Intermission — Core Reinforcement
Lin Mei exhaled, restoring herself in radiant silence.
"Watching them turn on each other under your will… it feels right," she said softly. "I'll overdraw again if needed."
Her devotion burned almost reverent now.
Xia Ying placed a calming essence thread into her, easing strain.
"Your light anchors the shadows."
Wei Jun scanned updated feeds.
"Zuo's team advancing—but fracturing. One more doubt spike could collapse them. Clan envoys are watching closely."
A faint smile touched Xia Ying's lips.
"Then we ensure it blooms at the correct moment."
He tested a group Projection variant on practice constructs.
Three simultaneous nightmares.
The dummies spasmed in simulated terror collapse.
Lin Mei and Wei Jun watched in silent awe.
Reverence deepened.
---
## Final Cohort Round — Hall of Mirrors
Their last match of the day.
High-synergy illusion specialists.
The arena became an endless mirror cathedral—reflections multiplying horrors infinitely.
The clash was surgical.
Wei Jun identified illusion cores in real time.
Lin Mei sustained through brutal drain, shielding against amplified dread.
Xia Ying unleashed layered psychological warfare:
Aura seeds across the enemy line.
Group Dread Projection detonated—
Mirrors inverted.
Each opponent saw nightmare versions of themselves betraying and consuming their own team.
Illusions turned cannibalistic.
Formation imploded.
They yielded in a cascade of screams.
---
## Flameheart's Advance — Pyrrhic Victory
Zuo's alliance advanced as well.
But at cost.
Flames roared brighter—desperation masquerading as power.
Phoenix constructs dove repeatedly—
Two flickered violently.
A teammate faltered under Zuo's erratic commands.
Public snarls fractured morale.
They won.
But emerged scorched, exhausted, unstable.
The crowd still cheered…
Yet unease threaded through the applause.
---
## Evening Overlook — Convergence Nears
Leaderboards updated beneath a darkening sky.
**Team Finalists Approaching:**
Shadow Trio
Flameheart Alliance
Collision inevitable.
Lin Mei smiled despite exhaustion.
"We dismantled them effortlessly. Your strategy is flawless."
Wei Jun nodded.
"Zuo's formation is one push from collapse."
Xia Ying refined the day's harvest silently:
Multi-mind terror.
Coordinated psychological breaks.
Zuo's deepening doubt.
Projection stabilization neared completion.
Footsteps approached.
Zuo again.
Flames flickered at his fists—bright, but unstable.
"Your mind games won't save your trio," he sneered. "Flames consume everything."
Xia Ying's smile was soft.
Cold.
"As you wish, Flameheart. Let the brighter fire reveal its truth."
A subtle Terror Feedback pulse crossed the distance.
Zuo's flames guttered sharply.
He stiffened—doubt flashing before rage buried it.
Another thread harvested.
He stormed away.
---
Xia Ying turned back to the darkening crater, his trio at his side.
Shadows coiled eagerly around him as volcanic glow painted the arena blood-red.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "the clashes peak."
His gaze lifted toward the final bracket projection.
*They clash with raw power and fragile bonds…*
The shadows behind him deepened.
*I dismantle with dread and unbreakable will.*
The final rounds would decide which truly reigned.