Chapter 11: Rhain’s Fury
"STOP!"
The single word tore through the arena, brimming with a rage so absolute it made the ground tremble.
Rhain had risen from his stone bench.
And with that single motion, he stopped holding back.
The Abyssal Sovereign Physique, which he had kept tightly restrained since his integration, was unleashed entirely.
A terrifying, pitch-black suppression aura erupted from his body like shockwave.
It wasn’t just Aetheric Essence. It was the weight of an endless abyss.
The disciples sitting within thirty paces of him didn’t even have ti to gasp.
They were blasted off their stone benches. Not pushed — thrown.
Those who were fortunate enough to be further away from him were only slightly better.
They dropped.
So tumbled helplessly off the stone benches, crashing onto the hard ground below. Others fell to their hands and knees, their bodies trembling violently against the stone.
Their faces turned pale, oxygen forcibly squeezed from their lungs by a pressure that felt like a mountain resting on their spines.
Fear — pure, primal terror — gripped their minds. They couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t speak. They could only tremble under the crushing weight of Rhain’s absolute fury.
Down in the center of the ring, Maren’s eyes snapped toward the stands.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She was at Essence Condensation Level 5.
Yet, against the oppressive wave washing over the arena, even she felt a sudden, distinct heaviness press against her chest.
What kind of aura is this? she thought, her composure cracking. He is only in the Awakening realm!
Down on the platform, Gaelen was only two steps away from Seris.
His fist was already swinging downward for the crippling blow.
He couldn’t. He was standing on his spot like an iced sculpture.
He only felt a chilling sensation all over his body, as if even his blood had frozen.
Gaelen’s pupils contracted to pinpoints.
His Level 4 Essence defense was utterly crushed beneath the sheer gravity of Rhain’s killing intent.
It felt as if a single twitch, a single breath, would result in his imdiate and violent death.
The sudden, suffocating stillness in the arena gave Seris the fraction of a second she needed.
Clutching her bruised stomach, she spoke up with a trembling voice, "I... surrender."
The words were weak, but in the dead silence of the arena, they rang out clearly.
Maren blinked, snapping out of her montary stupor.
"Match concludes!" Maren announced, her voice slightly sharper, slightly faster than usual. "Winner, Gaelen Hask."
Rhain reined in his aura.
The pressure vanished.
The weight lifted. Disciples across the arena gasped and coughed, dragging air into lungs that had been compressed for several seconds too long.
Nobody looked at the winner.
Every single eye in the outer sect sparring grounds was fixed on the stands.
Fixed on Rhain Voss.
Rhain stood there for a mont longer, his dark grey eyes locked onto Gaelen with a promise of violence that needed no words.
Down in the ring, the invisible chains holding Gaelen shattered. His legs gave out completely, and he dropped to one knee, panting heavily as his entire body shook.
He didn’t look like a victor. He looked like a man who had just survived an execution.
Rhain didn’t spare him another glance.
He stepped out of the aisle and began walking down the stone steps toward the arena floor.
The crowd parted before him instantly. No one dared to even breathe too loudly as he passed.
They watched Rhain approach the platform and gently help Seris to her feet, ignoring all the rules.
Gaelen’s palm against the ground clenched into fist.
The fear was already curdling into sothing uglier.
Humiliation. Rage. Hatred.
"That was interference!" Gaelen’s voice cracked across the arena. He stood up, pointing a trembling finger at Rhain. "He released his aura during an active match! He disrupted my movent! That’s a direct violation of the sparring rules!"
He turned to Maren, his expression twisted with righteous indignation.
"Instructor Maren, I demand he be punished! He deliberately interfered to protect his—"
"Enough."
Maren’s single word carried the quiet authority of absolute power. Gaelen’s mouth snapped shut.
Maren’s gaze settled on Rhain.
It was not friendly.
"Rhain Voss."
Rhain t her eyes. He was supporting Seris with one arm, his expression already returned to its default state — calm, flat, unreadable.
"You released your cultivation pressure during an active match," Maren said. Her tone was asured, clinical. "The intent is irrelevant. The disruption is a fact. Regardless of the circumstances, spectators are prohibited from influencing the outco of a bout."
A pause.
"This is your first and only warning. If you interfere in another match today, you will be disqualified from the remainder of the sparring and confined to your quarters for one month."
Rhain said nothing. He simply inclined his head — a minimal acknowledgnt that could have been respect or could have been nothing at all.
Maren held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary. Then she turned away.
"Seris Nighthollow is eliminated. Next match."
Gaelen’s face contorted. He opened his mouth—
"But Instructor—"
"I said next match." Maren’s voice dropped half an octave.
Gaelen’s face turned red from humiliation, and anger. He forcibly turned on his heel and stalked back to the upper benches.
Rhain guided Seris to the lower rows, easing her down onto the stone bench.
"How bad?" Rhain asked quietly.
"It’s not very serious," Seris said through gritted teeth.
She was lying.
Rhain could tell that with a glance.
"That was incredibly reckless."
"I couldn’t see you getting hurt, could I?"
Seris stared at him with her pale violet eyes. Then she exhaled — a short, sharp breath that might have been a laugh if her stomach wasn’t hurt.
"Don’t care much about ," she said. "You should focus on your matches."
Rhain looked at her for a mont longer. Then he nodded and looked away.
A cold light flashed in his eyes.
.....
The matches resud.
But the atmosphere of the monthly sparring had irrevocably changed.
Rhain’s na was called again twenty minutes later.
"Rhain Voss. Versus Lias Dunn."
"Begin."
Lias didn’t even have ti to raise his guard
Before he could even circulate his Essence, Rhain was in front of him. A single, casually delivered palm strike slamd into the center of his chest.
CRACK.
He was launched horizontally off the platform like a stone skipped across a pond, crashing into the outer boundary wall and slumping into an unconscious heap.
"Winner, Rhain Voss."
Ten matches later.
"Rhain Voss versus Dell Tarn."
Dell stepped up. He managed to raise his guard.
Rhain casually slapped Dell’s forearms aside, shattering both radius bones instantly, and drove a knee into his stomach. He vomited violently before his eyes rolled back.
"Rhain Voss. Versus..."
"I SURRENDER!" The boy didn’t even step onto the platform. He stood in the bleachers, his voice cracking with sheer terror, his hands raised high in the air.
He didn’t care about honor or rankings.
He had seen the way Rhain was eliminating each and every opponent he t with cruel efficiency, and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
Maren sighed. "Winner, Rhain Voss."
It beca complete domination.
Every ti Rhain stepped into the ring, he crushed his opponent with a single, brutal, overwhelmingly violent strike.
The outer disciples were completely broken.
Those who had once looked down on him, or laughed when Fennick beat him, were now trembling in their seats, practically praying to the gods that Maren wouldn’t pair them with the demon.
The sun began to dip toward the western peaks of the Greymist Hills.
The numbers dwindled.
Top fifty.
Top thirty.
Top twenty.
They had reached the Top Twenty.
The remaining disciples were the elites of the outer sect. The strongest, the most ruthless, and the most heavily backed.
Maren looked at the next pairing, and for a brief mont, her eyes lingered on the nas.
"Match one hundred and ninety," Maren announced. Her voice echoed cleanly across the stone.
"Rhain Voss."
Rhain stood up from beside Seris.
The entire arena held its breath.
"Versus Gaelen Hask."
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