Tension Before the Storm
The flames lining the arena walls shifted from red to deep violet, casting a spectral glow over the blood-stained sand.
Leon stood motionless, gun resting against his side, the light from the glyphs burning faintly beneath his boots. The stone floor was warm—like it remembered every body it had held.
Above, the crowd simmered in anticipation.
They'd seen him shoot. They'd seen him command.
Now they wanted to see him bleed.
"WELCOME BACK, BLOODTHIRSTY SPECTATORS!""THE NEWCOMER RETURNS FOR ROUND TWO!BUT THIS TIME—THE DARK SCIENTIST OF DEATH AWAITS HIM!"
Leon's eyes didn't move. His focus locked on the gate across the arena.
This wouldn't be another summoner with borrowed tricks.
This opponent had built something unnatural.
A New Challenger – The Bone Alchemist
The gate hissed open with a sound like breaking ribs.
A figure stepped forward slowly, not cloaked—armored. But not in steel.
In bone.
Carved ribs wrapped around his shoulders. Finger bones chained together to form a mantle. His right hand was gaunt, pale flesh stretched tight against exposed bone, with tubes of black mana fluid coiling down his wrist and disappearing into a flask strapped to his spine.
His mask was made of stitched mandibles.
His presence silenced the crowd.
"FACING HIM—THE ONE WHO FORGES DEATH WITH SCIENCE—THE UNBROKEN—ALCHEMIST KRAVIS!"
Leon narrowed his gaze.
This wasn't a summoner.
This was a biotech necromancer. A corpse engineer.
The Fight Begins – Living Weaponry
The arena glyphs lit up.
Match start.
Kravis didn't summon.
He pressed a vial into his own chest, and the fluid inside pulsed dark red. His veins lit with necrotic light.
Then—his shadow detached.
It rose from the ground like oil set on fire.
And from it—emerged a creature.
Not skeletal.
Not human.
It had no eyes.
No visible joints.
Just muscle-bound limbs, pulsing tendons, and a swirling mana core embedded in its throat.
A synthetic undead.
Grown, not summoned.
Leon's jaw tightened.
No weaknesses to decay. No bones to break. Just brute efficiency.
Leon Moves First
Leon moved—not away, but forward.
He didn't test the thing. He didn't flank it.
He sprinted straight at it.
His Warrior Zombie met him halfway, taking the lead.
Leon fired once—then again—each round aimed at the creature's legs.
Both bullets struck. The synthetic lurched, but didn't fall.
Leon didn't stop.
He dove into a slide, passing beneath its right arm, rolled, and came up behind it.
"Now."
His Sorcerer cast behind the enemy, not at it—catching the creature in the middle of Leon's arc and the explosion radius.
BOOM.
The shockwave pushed the synthetic forward—right into Leon's waiting gun.
Bang.
The bullet struck center mass.
The creature flinched.
But still didn't drop.
Kravis chuckled behind his mask.
"Do you think I gave it pain?"
He raised a hand—and the monster's wounds began to stitch shut.
Adapting Under Pressure
Leon clicked his tongue, backing away.
The regeneration wasn't natural. It wasn't even necrotic. It was chemically stimulated.
And that vial on Kravis's back?
It wasn't just fueling the creature.
It was connected to him, too.
He was the battery.
Leon ducked behind a bone pillar as the synthetic lunged, claws ripping through stone like paper.
"Cut the source," Leon muttered.
He gave no other command.
The Sorcerer circled wide—drawing fire.
The Warrior Zombie charged straight up the center, feinting low with a sweeping cleave.
The monster countered, catching the blade with one forearm.
That's when Leon moved again.
He'd holstered his gun.
Now he drew the combat knife hidden under his cloak.
He sprinted past the synthetic, toward Kravis.
The Alchemist Bleeds
Kravis didn't expect it.
He stumbled back, reaching for another vial.
Too slow.
Leon tackled him into the wall, knife flashing up.
The blade slashed through a connecting tube.
Black mana fluid sprayed from the exposed line, sizzling as it hit the sand.
The creature behind them let out a warped scream—no voice, just distortion.
Leon pressed the blade to Kravis's neck.
"Call it off."
Kravis gasped. "You'll die first."
Leon raised his gun.
"I doubt it."
The Creature Crashes
Behind them, the synthetic undead began to shudder violently.
Its limbs pulsed out of sync. Its core flared, overcharged and unstable.
Leon didn't wait.
He kicked Kravis backward into the arena center and shouted—
"NOW!"
The Sorcerer cast a compressed Mana Explosion, pinning the monster in place.
Leon fired three piercing rounds.
Each one slammed into the core at different angles.
The final bullet struck center.
BOOM.
The creature detonated in a spray of muscle, energy, and bone shrapnel.
Kravis dropped to one knee, disconnected and shaking.
Leon walked toward him, each step calm, controlled.
He raised the gun one last time.
Kravis didn't beg.
He spat blood.
"You don't deserve the path."
Leon didn't answer.
Bang.
Aftermath – More Than Blood
"THE WINNER—LEON!"
The crowd erupted, louder than before.
Not for the blood.
For the performance.
Leon exhaled as the medics dragged Kravis's broken body from the sand.
His summons returned to his side.
Still standing.
Still listening.
The announcer's voice boomed again, half in disbelief:
"TWO VICTORIES. ONE REMAINS.IF HE WINS AGAIN—THE TOME IS HIS."
Leon didn't celebrate.
He looked toward the merchant stall at the top row of the stands.
The Path of the Deathborn still sat in plain view.
Waiting.