Chapter 29: The Weight of Ambition
Instructor Graves gripped the heavy handle of the lead briefcase. He took a confident step toward the exit of the Reliquary.
He took exactly one step.
Draven lowered his right hand.
BAM!
A localized, invisible gravitational vector slamd directly into Graves’s shoulders.
The force was equivalent to a two thousand-pound boulder dropping from the sky.
Graves was instantly crushed face-first into the concrete floor.
CRACK!
The stone beneath him spider-webbed. His nose shattered.
The air in his lungs was violently forced out in a wet, choking gasp.
He tried to push himself up. He tried to channel his mana. He tried to chant a defensive spell.
He could not do a single thing. The imnse kinetic weight pinned his arms, his legs, and his throat perfectly to the ground.
Graves rolled his bloodshot eyes upward. He saw a blurry, indistinct silhouette standing in the doorway.
The Blank Canvas skill made it impossible for him to focus on Draven’s face.
Draven stepped casually into the room. He looked down at the traitor.
"You talk too much," Draven whispered.
Draven raised two fingers. He did not draw a weapon. He tapped into his new upgrade.
He compressed the air molecules in front of his hand into a razor-sharp blade of pressurized space.
SWISH!
He swiped his fingers horizontally.
Spatial Rend bypassed physical armor completely. It passed cleanly through Graves’s thick neck.
The heavy, scarred head of the combat instructor rolled across the floor.
A pool of dark blood imdiately began to spread across the concrete.
The fight was over before Graves even realized it had begun.
[System: ...But he did not utter a single word, host.]
"Shut Up! I always wanted to say that to my enemies. I just killed him fast out of habit." replied Draven.
He knelt down and picked up the heavy lead briefcase containing the Aegis Core.
He opened his System Inventory, which had just received a massive space upgrade, and tossed the briefcase inside.
He did not stop there. He searched Graves’s headless corpse.
He pulled a high-grade spatial ring from the instructor’s finger and pocketed it.
’Classic rcenary protocol. Never leave good loot behind.’
Draven raised his hand one last ti.
He used a gentle sweep of Vector Manipulation to push the spreading blood away from his boots and completely erase any trace of his own presence in the room.
Ding!
[Directive 03 Complete!]
[The Aegis Core has been secured. The Outer Ring Massacre has been prevented.]
[Reward: 10,000 System Points, Increased Inventory Space: 200 lbs & Title: The Phantom Thief]
Draven read the blue screen. He smiled coldly. The city was safe. He was rich. And nobody would ever know.
"Ti to see how the at shield is doing," Draven muttered.
He turned around and walked back into the dark hallway.
---
High above the subterranean vault, the arena was shaking.
CLANG!
Neville Hennesy stumbled backward. His boots scraped harshly against the stone floor. He was panting heavily. Sweat stung his eyes.
His pristine silver armor was heavily dented. His perfect blonde hair was plastered to his forehead.
Aegon Logcheville did not give him a single second to breathe.
FWOOSH!
Aegon walked forward. The boiling, blood-red flas of the Crucible flared higher. Every step he took lted the stone beneath his boots.
He thrust his silver spear forward again.
CLANG!
Neville parried wildly. His arms were completely numb. The kinetic force behind Aegon’s strikes was unnatural. It was pure, savage brutality.
’How is this happening?!’ Neville thought frantically. ’I am the Golden Boy! I am the chosen Hero! I cannot lose to this defective trash!’
The crowd in the stadium had gone completely silent. They were watching their undefeated idol get systematically dismantled.
Up in the VIP box, Lord Hennesy stood up from his chair. His face was pale.
"Fight back, Neville!" Lord Hennesy roared, completely losing his composure.
Neville heard his father’s voice. The humiliation burned hotter than Aegon’s flas. Neville gritted his teeth. He tapped into the absolute depths of his mana core.
A blinding, chaotic pillar of holy light erupted from his body.
"I will not lose to you!" Neville scread.
He raised his silver sword high above his head. The golden aura condensed entirely into the blade, making it glow like a miniature sun.
It was the exact sa attack he had tried to use on Draven.
"DIVINE SMITE!"
Neville leaped into the air. He brought the massive, glowing blade down with everything he had.
Aegon stood his ground. He did not retreat.
He rembered Draven’s voice from the tunnel.
’He relies entirely on the blinding effect of the holy magic to cover his physical openings. He is arrogant. When your turn cos, do not look at the light. Look at his knees.’
Aegon squinted through the blinding golden glare. He completely ignored the flashy, terrifying sword descending toward his head.
He looked at Neville’s footwork.
Just as Draven predicted, Neville shifted all his weight to his back heel to stabilize the massive spell.
It created a split-second structural weakness in his stance. The exact center of gravity in his holy aura was exposed.
Aegon gripped his silver spear with both hands. He channeled every ounce of his boiling Asura flas into the tip of the weapon.
He thrust his spear upward, aiming directly at the center of Neville’s descending blade.
"Break," Aegon commanded.
CLANG!
The collision of holy light and blood-red fire created a massive shockwave. The wind blasted the front rows of the audience.
For a fraction of a second, the two weapons locked together in mid-air.
Then, the flaw in Neville’s stance caught up with him. He had no leverage.
CRACK.
A tiny hairline fracture appeared on the surface of Neville’s pristine silver sword.
Neville’s eyes widened in absolute horror.
"No."
SHATTER!
The enchanted silver sword exploded into a hundred jagged pieces. The fragnts rained down onto the arena floor like broken glass.
Aegon’s spear punched straight through the shattered defense.
BAM!
The blunt shaft of the spear slamd directly into Neville’s chest plate.
Neville was blasted out of the air. He crashed violently onto the stone floor and rolled several tis before coming to a complete stop.
His golden aura flickered and died.
The arena was dead silent.
Neville groaned in pain. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He looked down at the broken hilt of his sword still clutched in his trembling hand.
A pair of heavy boots stepped into his line of sight.
Neville looked up. Aegon was standing over him. The blood-red flas slowly receded into Aegon’s skin.
Aegon pointed the sharp, unbroken tip of his silver spear directly at Neville’s throat.
"Yield," Aegon said. His voice was cold, empty, and completely devoid of pity.
Neville looked at the spear. He looked at Aegon. He looked up at the VIP box, where his father was staring down at him with undisguised sha.
Neville’s lips trembled. The Hero was broken.
"I... yield," Neville whispered.
The referee blew the whistle.
"Winner of the Freshman Tactical Duels, and the new Freshman Representative... Aegon Logcheville!"
The crowd erupted. It was a deafening roar of sheer disbelief and awe. A new king had just been crowned.
Aegon lowered his spear. He turned his back on Neville and walked away. He looked up at the massive viewing screens.
He had kept his promise.
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