The rules of the Tournament were simple—brutal, even.

Four would enter and only one would remain.

There would be no brackets or one-on-one duels, this was violence and brutality in its purest form, every fighter for themselves.

In the middle of the coliseum was the stone platform that the four of them now stood on and those who fell beyond its bounds would face an automatic defeat regardless of whether they could still fight. The stone beneath them had been crafted from enchanted basalt, capable of enduring not just physical blows but the unleashed chaos of magic itself.

After his battle with the former Vice Admiral, Anriette had promised Lukas that she would be fine, telling him that she would make her own way to the Inner Cities. It was clear that Lukas only had hours left before the Tournament would begin. In the end, Lukas had barely made it in time, pushing through the officials who had only let him pass when they saw the Mandate he now carried.

Yet the greatest surprise was seeing Jesse standing at his side.

Somehow, the dragonborn had acquired a Mandate of his own and Lukas had to admit it was a good feeling to have Jesse by his side once more.

There would be time to catch up later.

The moment the four of them locked eyes, the air between them filled with tension.

Lukas stood beside Jesse, the two of them facing the twins from across the open platform. Even from this distance, he could see the widening of their eyes, the brief flash of disbelief that passed over the beastmen's faces.

The twins had thought him lost to the currents of the Underworld Rivers.

But here Lukas was now, standing once within the Coliseum, back from the dead.

This time, Rasta and Adonis would make sure Lukas stayed dead.

The twins moved.

Rasta and Adonis were like mirror images in motion; sleek, fast, and devastatingly synchronized. The audience roared as the Magopo brothers lunged forward, their bodies cutting through the air with the fluidity of seasoned predators. The beastkin knew them well; they had long been favorites of the Tournament, renowned for their unrelenting coordination and unmatched ferocity.

To see them in action now sent waves of excitement through the stands.

But Lukas and Jesse were ready for them.

The stone beneath their feet hummed as they braced themselves.

The moment their magic came to life, the entire arena seemed to shift. The energy in the air became heavy, palpable and nearly suffocating. It shimmered like blistering heat, the different flows of Divinity colliding in invisible clashes that could not be seen by the naked eye. The protective barriers separating the audience from the fighters flickered and groaned in response, the magical wards strained by the sheer force gathering within the platform.

Then, the elements itself came alive.

From the center of the platform, the Seas and the Skies themselves seemed to answer Lukas and Jesse's call.

Blades of wind and water spiraled into existence, their edges glinting with lethal brilliance. Each current cut through the air with a shriek, arcs of translucent force twisting into whirling crescents that could cleave through flesh and blood. The crowd gasped as the storm gathered, gusts of compressed air colliding with streams of water that surged like unleashed tides, crashing toward the twins with unrelenting ferocity.

Rasta and Adonis froze only for a heartbeat, eyes widening at the sight of the converging onslaught.

The attack itself would have torn lesser fighters apart before they even had the chance to react.

In perfect synchrony, the twins drew deep within themselves and activated the Internal Arts. Their bodies flared with a golden light, veins tracing lines of radiant energy beneath their skin. The transformation was instantaneous—muscles hardened, flesh shimmered like tempered steel, and a surge of magical density rippled outward from them.

This was no spell.

It was mastery of the body elevated to an art, a discipline honed to perfection through years of combat. While the Priest had helped Lukas remake his body within days, the twins had trained for years to master the very technique that struck fear into the heart of Daerion Ittriki.

The Internal Arts turned the mortal form into a fortress, channeling magic not outward, but inward, into every single muscle, bone, and nerve.

When the blades of wind and water struck the twins, the sound was deafening, an explosion of elemental fury that sent ripples through the stone beneath their feet. But when the light cleared, the twins still stood firm, steam rising from their arms where the attacks had struck, their silhouettes standing as strong as ever.

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The crowd roared at the sight, their voices echoing across the arena in wild approval.

The twins had lived up to their reputation once more.

Lukas' Crown activated and in that moment, their minds were connected. The link between Lukas and Jesse was absolute as instincts, strategies, and intent flowed seamlessly from one to the other.

There were no need for words for what would come next.

Across from them, Rasta and Adonis adjusted their stance, lowering themselves in primal fashion. They were masters of the Internal Arts, fighters who turned physicality itself into a weapon that could rival sorcery. Against such opponents, any rational combatant would have kept their distance, striking from afar, wearing them down before they could close in.

But sensibility belonged to the ordinary. And Lukas and Jesse were far from ordinary.

They were dragons and they were going to show the world the strength of Linemall that Hiraeth had long forgotten.

The dragons' eyes met for a single moment before Lukas and Jesse rushed forward, their steps igniting bursts of magical energy all around them. The platform quaked as two streaks—one azure, the other silver-white—shot toward the twins.

The Magopo Brothers barely had time to brace before the collision came, the sound of impact like an explosion.

Shockwaves rippled outward, shaking the barriers once again as magic and muscle clashed.

Lukas himself activated the Internal Arts in that moment, taking on Rasta head-on. The beastman had always relied on his mastery of the Internal Arts—on the unnatural strength and resilience it granted him—but as their blows met, Rasta realized with growing disbelief that this advantage he once held over so many had vanished. Because while Lukas was no master of the Internal Arts like Rasta was, he was a master of another magic that was able to bring an end to the one they called the Hero From Another World.

The Divinity of the Seas coursed through Lukas like a living current. His power flowed not in rigid bursts but in waves. Rasta's movements were fast, sharp, fueled by violent rhythm, but Lukas moved differently. Lukas moved like flowing water itself, guided by intuition sharpened through his fights with Lord Jaren that had taught him the importance of precision and accuracy. He didn't simply react, he anticipated.

Every strike that Rasta sent his way, Lukas saw them coming, like ripples made on still water.

The water that he had gathered surged all around them in an instant, forming into liquid constructs that took the shapes of humanoid limbs—arms, legs and torsos—each one moving in harmony with Lukas's own.

Together, they became an army of motion, a seamless cascade of flowing forms that struck from every direction.

Rasta roared, blocking one blow only to be struck by three more. The constructs hammered him relentlessly, fists of water crashing against his chest, knees slamming into his ribs, feet threatening to sweep his balance out from beneath him.

The Internal Arts gave Rasta endurance, but even that had its limits of which Lukas had brought him to in a matter of minutes.

On the other side of the arena, Adonis met Jesse with unflinching resolve, his muscles blazing with the energy of the Internal Arts. Yet even as he fought, it became painfully clear that this battle was not one of equals. Jesse Sterling, once the untested youth of House Sterling, now fought as a dragonborn in full command of his birthright.

The Divinity of the Skies enveloped him, transforming his body into something untouchable and almost ethereal.

The crowd could hardly track Jesse, let alone Adonis.

One moment, the dragonborn was before the beastman, the next, he was gone. A gust of wind whipped past, and lightning followed, the sharp crack of thunder heralding each strike. Every appearance was a blur, every attack a flash of blinding force that shattered Adonis's guard.

No amount of fortification could withstand that kind of speed and destruction.

The beastman's defenses broke beneath Jesse's relentless assault, the Internal Arts unable to absorb the weight of lightning and wind itself.

The dragonborn moved was the wind itself, a tempest given form.

Lukas could barely follow the dragonborn's movements through the Crown's connection, sensing him only as streaks of wind and will.

Not only were Lukas and Jesse keeping up with the twins, they were pushing forward and overwhelming them.

When Jesse's final strike landed, Adonis was sent skidding across the stone, his body crashing near the platform's edge. Rasta soon followed, his defenses crumbling under the crushing power of Lukas' magic.

The twins rose to their feet once more, their chests heaving as they stood to face the fearsome dragons that they had been once so certain they could defeat.

The crowd erupted a heartbeat later, the roar deafening; Lukas could hear the cheers, gasps and...even laughter.

There was no loyalty here, no sympathy for defeat.

The spectators had come for spectacle, for the raw thrill of combat, and Lukas and Jesse had given them exactly that.

But it was not over.

Rasta's hand twitched. Adonis growled, blood trailing down the side of his mouth. Their eyes burned with renewed fury as they rose once more, fangs bared, determination turning into desperation.

The beastmen knew now that victory was not assured.

They were facing opponents who were on a whole 'nother level. Even then, they refused to yield.

The twins straightened, shoulders squared and their eyes narrowed.

If victory demanded their lives, then so be it.

The crowd could feel the shift, the anticipation trembling through the air once more.

Because though battered, the twins were not yet broken. And this fight—this clash between dragons and beastmen—had only just begun.

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