Chapter 24
All across the empire, cultivators gathered like a swarm, each one burning with ambition to enter the Scarlet Faction. The promise of endless resources, guidance, and power hung in the air like honey to bees.
Everyone seemed ablaze with energy.
Except one.
Jayden stood with dead eyes, unmoved by the roaring crowd around him. His mind was locked in an emotional seizure—his fingers twitching at his side, not from nerves, but rage. His gaze remained locked on one man, seated casually on one of the three thrones, Jake—the Scarlet Grand Elder who had break apart his plan,now he must partake in all of this.
"If only I could squash that smug face..." Jayden thought, the idea flaring hot in his chest, even though he knew the truth. Jake was too far above him—probably a peak Grey Plane or higher, a mountain Jayden couldn't yet climb. Not yet.
A deep gong echoed.
"The rules are simple," an announcer's voice boomed. "Each participant will step forward and challenge a faction member of the same Plane and Stage. Win—and you're in."
With that, the selection began.
The first to step up was a man in his late twenties, bearing the battle-hardened aura of a mercenary and the proud stride of someone used to winning. His spiritual energy flared—Purple Plane, 2nd Stage. Murmurs of admiration rippled through the crowd. That was no small feat.
He pointed, confidently, toward a girl barely Sixteen years old—petite, innocent-looking, and smiling so brightly she seemed misplaced among warriors.
She stepped into the ring with a light skip.
"Begin!" the referee barked.
The man vanished, using superhuman speed to rush her—his goal was clear: end the fight before it could start.
But he stopped mid-motion. No—he was stopped.
His arm was clamped mid-strike, caught in the girl's palm—except her palm had swelled grotesquely, transformed into a massive, stone-like hand.
"Too weak," she said sweetly.
And then—chaos.
She spun him overhead like a ragdoll, slamming him into the stage once, twice, thrice—no, ten times—before letting his crumpled body fall, unconscious and twitching. Bones had shattered. That much was obvious.
The crowd stared in horror.
"Weakling" the girl chirped as she skipped off the stage.
That one word broke the trance. Reality struck hard. If these were the Scarlet Faction's children, what kind of monsters were their elites?
Fear and awe fought for dominance in the hearts of the remaining hopefuls. But greed and hunger were stronger. They stepped forward—one by one—each challenger flaring their spiritual energy, each trying to claw their way into greatness.
And one by one, they were crushed.
Superhuman, Elementalist, Visionary, Transformer—it didn't matter.
The faction members weren't just stronger—they were relaxed. Unbothered. Casual.
"They're not even trying," Rictor whispered beside Jayden, his voice a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Not a single one has used their final move. Not one transformation. Nothing."
Jayden's eyes narrowed. He had noticed it too. It was a message: This is the Scarlet Faction. You are nothing but insects.
A commotion rose at the far end of the stage. A new fighter stepped forward—Kai.
The youngest among the faction members. A boy no older than thirteen with a silver scarf and mismatched eyes. His name was already infamous.
Kai, the prodigy of the Blue Plane.
Dozens had challenged him. All were defeated—one-shotted, without him even activating his transformation trait. Sometimes, he accepted challenges from multiple people at once, yet not one could touch him.
He didn't even look serious. He fought with one hand in his pocket.
From thousands, the number of challengers dropped below two hundred.
From those, only a little over a hundred remained.
Only forty had managed to defeat a Scarlet member—and nearly all of them were injured. Limping, bleeding, gasping, barely able to stand. And even then, there was no celebration. Just grim silence.
The arena had become a graveyard of broken dreams.
And then came the name:
"Next: Rictor."
The crowd parted.
Rictor—Jayden's only companion in this mess—stepped forward.
His expression was unreadable, but Jayden saw the flicker of resolve beneath his calm gaze.
Rictor walked up to the stage slowly, scanning the faction members standing idly on their elevated platform—about thirty of them now, each one dangerous in a different way. Some played with weapons, others meditated. A few watched him with vague amusement, as if daring him to pick them.
Jayden watched his friend go, then whispered under his breath:
"Don't die, idiot."
Rictor scanned the faction members standing confidently near the arena. Each of them carried an oppressive aura, like predators waiting for prey. Whispers filled the air like a growing storm—he had the eyes of hundreds pinned to his back. Everyone expected him to choose someone manageable. Reasonable. Beat one of the weaker members, secure a pass into the faction, and walk out alive.
But Rictor didn't come here to pass. He came here to stand out.
His eyes finally locked on her—Cynthia, the storm in human form. Brown-haired, cold-eyed, and impossibly strong. At just thirteen, she was already at the eighth stage of the Blue Plane, which was almost unheard of. The only one considered her superior was Kai, the monstrous prodigy of the same age.
Gasps rippled through the crowd the moment Rictor pointed at her.
"Is he mad?!"
"That's suicide!"
"He just signed his death sentence…"
Even some elders watching from above furrowed their brows, murmuring amongst themselves. Choosing Cynthia was the equivalent of picking a dragon for a sparring partner.
Cynthia stepped forward, her booted feet striking the arena floor with effortless grace. Her expression was calm—until she got close enough to speak.
"You sure you want to fight me?" Her voice was deceptively soft, laced with power. "I've fought over two hundred people today. None could touch me. What makes you think you'll last more than five seconds?"
Rictor shrugged lazily. "Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up. I've got things to do."
Murmurs erupted again. Was this guy serious?
But inside, Rictor's heart was pounding. He wasn't reckless—he was calculating. Every move, every word was part of his plan. If Cynthia hadn't been holding back in her previous matches, then he had a sliver of a chance. And if he pulled this off, he'd go from a participant to a rising legend.
Cynthia, clearly annoyed by his arrogance, narrowed her eyes. "Then I'll shut you up the hard way."
"BEGIN!"
The instant the word echoed, Cynthia vanished.
Rictor barely blinked before a fist slammed into his cheek, snapping his head sideways. Another strike dug into his ribs, a kick sent him staggering back, and then another hit followed. To the crowd, it was like watching a storm toy with a leaf.
Cynthia's ability was Teleportation, a rare and brutal superhuman skill. She struck from every angle, her body appearing for milliseconds before vanishing again, faster than most eyes could track. The arena looked like a light show of afterimages and brutal hits. Rictor's body was already bloodied and battered.
"Learn your place," she whispered beside his ear again before delivering a knee into his gut that nearly knocked him out cold.
Rictor coughed blood, wobbling on his feet. "Tch... Enough." He fished into his coat and pulled out two small, black spheres.
Cynthia paused, narrowing her eyes with instinctive caution. "What the hell is that?"
Without answering, Rictor's eyes shimmered—a flash of green and black crescent patterns lit up within them. His visual prowess activated. The spheres transformed midair into sleek, obsidian pistols engraved with glowing green runes.
"Let's play," he said, grinning even as blood dripped from his mouth.
He fired—two rapid green beams shot toward her. Cynthia vanished, the beams barely missing her. He kept firing, and she kept dodging with that smug ease—until one of the beams grazed her shoulder. She winced, a small cry of pain escaping her lips.
"You're going to regret that!" she shouted, her teleportation accelerating as she began unleashing a flurry of furious strikes—faster, heavier, more brutal than before. Rictor staggered backward, barely keeping consciousness.
Then—his eyes shifted again, locking into place. The pistols merged into a glowing black-green spear, and with the last of his strength, he hurled it into the air.
Cynthia easily dodged it, scoffing. "Desperate trash."
She appeared behind him with a raised palm, aiming for a knockout strike to the neck.
"You fell for it," Rictor whispered weakly.
Before she could land the hit—WHAM!
A thunderous crack echoed across the arena.
Cynthia screamed.
She collapsed instantly, her leg impaled by the very same spear she had dodged earlier. It had looped around the battlefield under spiritual concealment, guided by the mark left when she was grazed by the beam.
She clutched her ankle in disbelief, blood pouring out as the crowd gasped in unison.
"How?" she rasped, vision blurring.
Rictor staggered, laughing softly like a mad scientist unveiling his life's work. "You were marked the moment my beam grazed you. The spear followed my spiritual signature—and it doesn't stop until it hits its target. You were too busy showing off to notice it creeping back around."
Cynthia's face twisted. "Trick...ster..." she whispered before collapsing completely.
Silence.
Then, a tidal wave of voices broke out—shocked, amazed, confused.
He had done it.
He had beaten Cynthia—the second-strongest Blue Plane warrior in the Scarlet Faction.
_ _ _ _
"All you used was a cheap trick!" an angry voice rang out, slicing through the stunned silence of the arena. Heads turned in unison, and eyes widened. The speaker was none other than Kai—the undisputed genius of the Blue Plane.
He stepped forward, arms crossed, his dark-robe fluttering slightly from the residual energy in the air. The weight of his presence pressed down like a thundercloud. Rictor, bruised and battered but grinning with undeniable satisfaction, didn't flinch. If anything, his smirk deepened.
"Cheap trick?" Rictor echoed, letting out a dry chuckle as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "A win is a win. Or are you upset someone finally cracked your golden girl?"
Kai's jaw tightened.
"If you're so confident, why don't you step in and prove you're better than her?" Kai's voice dripped with challenge, sharp enough to spark gasps from the onlookers.
Rictor smirk faltered for a brief moment.
He knew he couldn't fight Kai. Not in his current condition. His spiritual energy was nearly spent, and even on a full tank, Kai's raw power was in another league. Facing him now would be suicidal. So he shook his head slowly, his wry smile returning.
Kai scoffed, stepping onto the edge of the platform, staring down at Rictor. "So you admit it. You're not competent enough."
But Rictor raised a finger, his grin widening like a magician about to pull the ultimate trick.
"Not me," he said confidently. "There's someone else. Someone who'll knock that smug look off your face."
The crowd murmured, eyes darting around, trying to guess who Rictor meant. Kai raised a skeptical brow, folding his arms. "Another Blue Plane brat? No one here is qualified to stand against me."
Rictor sauntered down the arena steps with all the flair of a showman taking a victory lap, ignoring the blood still dripping from his chin. Then he stopped beside a quiet figure in the corner, placing a hand dramatically on his shoulder.
"I speak unto you all!" he declared. "This guy… this guy is a genius among geniuses!"
The hall fell silent, then erupted into laughter.
The one he was pointing at—Jayden—stood expressionless, hands in his pockets, not even reacting to the scene unfolding around him. Compared to Kai, who was at the peak stage and known for ending fights with a single hit, Jayden was a mere 6th-stage participant. To most, this felt like setting a mouse against a lion.
"Have you finally lost your mind, boy ?" one faction elder muttered. "You want that kid to fight Kai?"
"If you've got guts," Rictor called out, "then fight my friend here. In fact, let's make it fun—20 gold coins on Jayden! Who dares take me up?"
A beat of stunned silence.
Then, one by one, hands raised. The bait had been set, and they bit. Bets began pouring in like a storm. Gold clinked as faction members, disciples, even elders laughed while placing their coins on Kai.
"Let's be real!" one elder shouted. "If Kai loses, I'll shave my beard!"
"I'll throw in 50 on Kai!"
"I'll bet a hundred!"
The excitement was infectious, the arena now a coliseum of chaos.
Jayden remained motionless, eyes half-lidded. He didn't care about the noise. He wasn't here to entertain fools.
"You coming or what?" one of the senior disciples barked, annoyed at Jayden's indifference.
Jayden looked at him with his usual calm, bored expression. "The rules state that duels must be within the same stage. Taking the arena now would violate that. Why should I waste my time?"
Just as the tension began to ease—
"The rules," a voice boomed, "don't always have to be followed."
Every head turned sharply toward the source.
It was the Grand Elder Jake.
He stood at the upper balcony, robes fluttering as spiritual pressure rolled off him like crashing waves. He tossed a gold pouch into the air. It hit the ground with a metallic thud.
"100 gold coins… on the deadpan boy," he said coolly. "Don't disappoint me."
A stunned hush fell over the crowd.
Was he serious?
Many elders looked at each other in disbelief. Had the Grand Elder lost his mind?
But it was too late now. Rictor, thrilled by the sudden windfall, grabbed Jayden by the arm and practically shoved him toward the platform.
"You heard him," he grinned. "Go prove them all wrong."
Jayden sighed. There was no getting out of it now.
He stood on the platform, facing Kai. The arena grew quiet once more, tension climbing like thunderclouds ready to burst.
"I'll end this in one punch," Kai said, cracking his knuckles. "Same as always."
Jayden didn't respond.
He had no plan.
He would just put up a fight and get knocked out. That would still embarrass Jake enough to get back at him later.
But then… his system chimed.
> New Quest Received: "One Shot the One-Shotter."
Objective: They've underestimated you. Prove them wrong by defeating Kai in a single attack.
Reward: 500 SP
Jayden's eyebrow twitch violently.
One shot?
Him? SP?
His blank expression flickered for a second. Then white glove materialized on his hand —an eerie red transmutation circle etched onto the fabric shimmered as power surged through his arm.
"I really need that SP," he muttered.
"Begin!"
Kai's body instantly bulked up, partially transforming, his muscles swelling and spirit energy flaring.
He launched forward like a fired cannonball, a punch glowing with concentrated spiritual energy aimed at Jayden's head.
But Jayden was faster.
He snapped his fingers.
A deafening BOOM erupted as a torrent of hot flames burst forth in a spiraling explosion, swallowing Kai mid-lunge.
Smoke billowed across the stage, thick and heavy.
Silence.
Then a silhouette emerged.
Kai stood there… but barely. His once-shining clothes were charred, his skin blackened, smoke trailing from his limbs.
He stumbled forward.
Then collapsed with a heavy thud.
Gasps echoed.
Jayden stood where he was, eyes closed, untouched, unburned. Slowly, he opened them—those dead, disinterested eyes—and adjusted his glove with a soft tug.
"The battle," he said plainly, "is over."
The entire hall fell silent.
Deafening silence.
To be continued.
Support to get faster chapter release.
You can show your support through power stones, review comment gift and so on.
Stay tuned for the next chapter.