The Devourer's Dominion

Aetheron sat on a stone bench in the waiting area, his ribs still sore from the fight. The arena buzzed with energy—warriors talking, weapons clashing in the distance, and the occasional roar of the crowd as another match ended.

Aria leaned against a pillar beside him, flipping a small dagger between her fingers. "So, you're officially a tournament fighter now. How's it feel?"

"Like I got hit by a boulder," Aetheron muttered.

She laughed. "Well, you did fight a walking mountain. But you handled him."

Before Aetheron could respond, a new voice cut through the noise.

"You fight well for someone unknown."

Aetheron turned. A man in a dark blue cloak stood a few feet away, arms crossed. His piercing silver eyes studied Aetheron with an unsettling calmness.

Aria tensed immediately.

"Who's asking?" Aetheron said, keeping his voice even.

The man tilted his head slightly. "Call me Rael. I watch the tournament. Seek those who interest me."

"That supposed to mean something?"

Rael smirked. "Perhaps. You hide your true power, don't you?"

Aetheron's fingers twitched.

Rael chuckled. "Relax. I'm not here to expose you. I just find it fascinating when someone like you enters a battlefield like this."

Aria stepped forward, her dagger spinning. "If you've got a point, make it. Otherwise, walk away."

Rael gave her a brief glance, then looked back at Aetheron. "You'll be facing stronger opponents soon. If you're hiding something, you might not get the chance to use it before you're crushed."

Aetheron narrowed his eyes. "I'll take my chances."

Rael smiled faintly. "We'll see."

Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the coliseum halls.

Aria let out a breath. "That guy was weird."

Aetheron nodded, his mind turning. Rael wasn't normal—his presence, the way he spoke, how easily he read Aetheron's situation.

Who else was watching him?

Later that evening...

The preliminary rounds had ended, and the fighters who advanced were gathered in the grand chamber beneath the arena. Torches lined the stone walls, casting long shadows over the assembled warriors.

Aetheron stood near the back, arms crossed as a robed official stepped onto a raised platform. The room fell silent.

"Congratulations," the official began, his voice smooth but commanding. "You have proven yourselves worthy of the tournament. From this point forward, your battles will determine not only your survival but your legacy."

Murmurs spread through the crowd. Some fighters smirked confidently, others clenched their fists in anticipation.

The official raised a hand. "The next stage begins tomorrow. You will be assigned battles at random. Expect no mercy."

Aetheron scanned the room. Among the fighters, a few stood out.

One was a woman clad in silver armor, her crimson spear resting at her side. Her gaze was sharp, focused.

Another was a masked swordsman, his stance unnervingly still.

And then, at the far end of the room, a figure wrapped in black robes stood alone. Their presence was like a void—silent, unreadable.

Aetheron exhaled. Strong opponents. Exactly what he expected.

The official continued. "You will face one opponent each round. Win, and you advance. Lose…" He let the silence hang for a moment. "Well, I trust you understand."

The tension in the room thickened.

Aetheron felt Aria nudge him. "You ready for this?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

But deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.

And something—someone—was waiting in the shadows.