Chapter 1225: No Longer a Burden

Jake’s solemn question still echoed through the stands, reverberating like a war drum across the silent faces of his companions. His voice, calm but edged with a seriousness he rarely showed, betrayed just a flicker of unease—a faint shadow in otherwise steady eyes.

He wasn’t trying to belittle them.

If anything, his restraint made the worry that slipped through all the more piercing. He scanned the faces of his companions—not with contempt, but with a hidden fear that, despite everything, he might not always be able to shield them from what was coming.

This almost imperceptible uncertainty struck a nerve. For the Myrmidian warriors, proud and unyielding, and for Will and Asfrid—those used to navigating with words and intuition—Jake’s understated doubt was like a subtle splinter under the skin. It didn’t hurt because it was loud or dramatic, but precisely because it was so rare, so out of character for the one who’d always carried the world on his shoulders.

Sure, Jake was still their mountain—unshakable, stronger than any of them, a fact no one dared to challenge. But for four long years, they’d given everything to close the gap, shedding blood and sweat just to prove they could be more than baggage. Realizing that, in Jake’s eyes, nothing had changed struck like a dagger, twisting in the heart of their pride.

That bitterness, though, was a spark. The refusal to swallow his grim ’honesty’ set something alight inside them all. Not even two seconds had passed before—

"I’ll fight first." Will, usually the most diplomatic and soft-spoken among them, took a bold step forward, his jaw clenched with a cold resolve none of them had seen before.

As he spoke, the emerald gem nestled in the center of his brow pulsed with a sinister, opalescent glow, throwing warped shadows across his features. An aura both ancient and crushing swelled from him—impossible to ignore, primal as a thunderstorm.

Dragon Aura. Or Dragon Might, as it was known in the countless worlds where such legends still walked.

This innate command over Spirit and Soul Power could stoke awe and dread alike, a force so tangible the air crackled with static. At higher mastery, it could boost not just courage, but raw physical stats and perception. The parallel with the infamous Lumyst Aura was almost uncanny—another mystery for scholars to chew on.

Yet, Will’s display of power was instantly swallowed by the massed spiritual pressures swirling in the stands. Here, among the best of the best—Players and natives alike—his aura barely had time to settle before dozens of rival intentions detonated, colliding overhead like a symphony of thunderclaps.

"No, I’ll be the one to fight." Asfrid cut in, her tone dry and even, but her energy crackled with an edge that belied her nonchalance. She hadn’t been underestimated like this in years, and it stung.

The Myrmidians erupted, voices overlapping in a discordant chorus as each vied to be chosen. For them, this wasn’t just pride—it was the lifeblood of their honor. Having their leader question their resolve was the ultimate insult, a wound to their very identity.

But none took it as personally as the twin sisters, Enya and Esya—especially Esya. Unlike the rest, Jake had saved her more than once, each time leaving a scar on her self-worth she’d spent years trying to heal.

Esya had believed she’d buried that suffocating sense of helplessness, that nagging insignificance. But today, as Jake’s doubts came crashing down on her, she realized those old wounds had never really closed.

The one person she wanted to prove herself to the most still saw her as a porcelain doll, always in need of saving. The humiliation was almost physical—a heat crawling up her neck.

"I’m fighting first, and nobody’s stopping me."

Her words sliced through the tension, steely and unyielding, freezing the entire group mid-breath. Even Enya gaped at her, thunderstruck.

Esya’s eyes locked with Jake’s—fierce, almost accusing, as if daring him to contradict her. She spoke with a quiet venom, each word laced with challenge:

"I won’t lose."

For the first time, a crack appeared in Jake’s stony mask. His concern remained, but something in him shifted, conceding to the force of her resolve.

Now, the burden of proof had shifted. It was up to her to show him he was wrong—to be more than a liability, to become a weapon for the Myrtharian Nerds instead of a shielded bystander.

Jake studied her anew. The change was impossible to deny.

Five years ago, she’d been a naive princess, all flowing pink hair, careful makeup, and delicate dresses. Now, her hair was ragged, cropped at the shoulders, her face bare and hardened, every trace of the old vanity burned away by experience. Clad in a patchwork suit of Bronze Aether Artifact armor, sword in hand, she radiated the quiet competence of a survivor. The only constant—those unmistakable pink eyes, their innocence replaced with a predatory glint.

Both sisters, in fact, had changed in ways Jake could hardly grasp. Maybe it was time to believe in them—for real.

"Very well... Esya, you’ll fight first. Enya, you’re up next if Mani can’t find a worthy challenger. Will, you’re third," Jake finally declared, letting out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "As for you, Asfrid..."

"Yes?" She answered, barely masking her anticipation.

"There’s no use pretending anymore. I know your Spirit Lumyst Core has reached the Saint stage. These duels between Radiant Lords aren’t worthy of you."

The former Eltarian priestess didn’t bristle at the implied exclusion. On the contrary, a faint, satisfied smile played at the corners of her mouth. All she’d ever wanted was respect that matched her true worth.

"Understood," she replied, her posture straightening with unspoken pride.

Jake didn’t mention that Will, too, had nearly reached that echelon with his Life Lumyst Core. The depth of dragon power was a bottomless abyss, especially for someone with a single affinity to perfect—unlike Jake, whose abilities sprawled across many disciplines.

But Will was different. He wasn’t a pure fighter, and Jake still had no way to accurately gauge his limits without seeing him unleashed. Besides, Will’s caution bordered on legendary.

The moment Jake had called for volunteers, he’d stepped forward, despite his cultivation level already being above the requirements. To cover his tracks, he’d even used a secretive masking technique, concealing a portion of his power—a detail that hadn’t escaped Jake’s notice. It was a move worthy of respect in its own right.

With the lineup set, Esya wasted no time. Muscles coiling, she vaulted clean over the edge of the stands in a single, gravity-defying leap, arcing several kilometers through the air to land with barely a tremor in the dead center of the arena. Her approach was a silent rebuke to the showboating entrances of Crunch and Lord Phoenix—here was elegance, distilled into motion.

At the heart of the arena, her opponent—summoned by the Radiant Conclave—stood unmoving, his presence like a black hole. The Lumyst radiating from him was not just darkness; it was annihilation, swallowing air and stone, draining the world of all color.

Esya gave a nod, almost playful.

"Please don’t die too fast," she murmured, pressing her palms together in a brief, mocking gesture of prayer before sliding into her battle stance.

The Light Warrior, towering close to seven meters, fixed her with an emotionless, soulless stare—so cold she wondered if he was even alive in any sense she understood.

Suddenly, everything exploded. One moment, Esya was teasing him; the next, a titanic warhammer screamed through the air, its shadow looming so close she could smell the metal and the burning ozone.

Her smirk froze. Instinct and training surged together—she summoned a barrier of scarlet flame just in time as the weapon crashed down with the force of a meteor.

The fire vanished instantly, snuffed out by a surge of destructive, ink-black energy that shattered the ground and tore a deafening shockwave through the stands. The force was so brutal it nearly buckled her knees; a lesser fighter would have been vaporized outright.

From the audience, Will, Enya, and the others stood motionless, horror twisting their faces as the shockwave washed over them. Dread knotted their guts—had Esya really just died before their eyes? For an instant, the world held its breath.

But then she was there, reappearing on the far edge of the arena—breathless, battered, sweat trickling down her brow, but alive. Relief hit her friends in a crashing wave, hands clenching over racing hearts. For a heartbeat, they’d believed the worst. But Esya was not so easily broken.

Ironically, Jake—the one who’d doubted her most—was the only one who didn’t so much as flinch. If Esya had died so pitifully, right out of the gate, every lesson Xi had tried to drill into him about trust and teamwork would have vanished in a puff of smoke.

Unknown to him, within the privacy of his mind, Xi let out a shaky, invisible sigh. She’d just barely stopped herself from screaming as Esya pulled off her last-second escape. No one would ever know the most nervous person in the arena wasn’t even made of flesh and blood.

Thank the gods, Esya had survived the opening salvo—proving Xi’s faith wasn’t misplaced. But now, the hardest part remained: proving, to everyone and herself, that she was no longer the fragile noble she’d once been.

But fate has a cruel sense of irony. Some lessons come wrapped in pain. This fight would open Jake’s eyes—whether he liked it or not—and not every revelation would be a welcome one.

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