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Chapter 30 - Reality Severance

Chapter 29: Reality Severance

The crowd was buzzing with electric tension as the final match of the semifinals was announced.

Kai stood at the far end of the shattered coliseum floor, his eyes steady as Lysa approached from the opposite side. She wore a calm expression, her long silver hair tied behind her back, her robe fluttering lightly with each step.

A hush fell as the two combatants entered the ring. Dust still floated in the air from Kai's earlier battles, and fragments of broken stone crunched beneath their feet.

The judge raised his hand. "Kai of the Emberlight Path versus Lysa of the Azure Thorn Sect. Begin!"

Kai took one step forward.

Lysa took one step back.

She didn't move aggressively. Instead, she waited—measured. Watching his every twitch.

She was known for her reactive style. A master of redirection, she let her enemies strike first, then folded around their force like silk, striking with pinpoint precision at pressure points, joints, exposed gaps. Her footwork was elegant, serpent-like, her fingers already twitching in preparation.

Kai came in low, a feint to her right.

She pivoted, light on her toes, dodging with a graceful turn and tapping his forearm to redirect his momentum. Her jab came for his ribs—quick, accurate.

But Kai turned with it, spinning to catch her strike mid-air and counter with a sweeping kick.

She ducked beneath the arc, sliding under his momentum and attempting to trip him up. He flipped backward, landing silently on both feet.

Applause burst from the stands. The exchange had lasted only five seconds—fast, clean, and surgical.

They clashed again. Lysa twisted around his advances, slipping around his limbs and dancing through the air. She launched jabs at his pressure points—neck, hip, solar plexus—but each one met with Kai's forearm or open palm. He moved just enough to avoid damage, never wasting a motion.

Then she vanished from sight for an instant—appearing behind him mid-air.

The crowd gasped.

Kai turned, arms up, blocking the kick to his back. Their auras clashed, ki flaring in a shockwave that rippled outward. Kai grunted slightly. She was stronger than he'd expected—nimble and explosive.

But not unstoppable.

After a dozen more precise exchanges, Kai leapt back, sliding across the arena with his heel dragging lightly in the dirt. His eyes locked with hers.

"You're worthy," he said, voice low, cool. "I'll end this quick."

His foot slid back. His right hand clenched low near his waist.

Lysa's stance shifted, her expression sharpened.

And then the world cracked.

Kai's voice rang across the arena—

"With a single strike, I will sever the thread of fate binding you to this world."

"Reality Severance."

The arena trembled. A pressure settled over the air like thunder held in a glass jar.

Kai's ki surged—compressed into a singular, impossibly dense point of power.

He vanished.

A burst of energy detonated from the center of the ring. Dust exploded outward. Sound twisted as if reality itself groaned beneath the force.

He reappeared behind her, already mid-swing.

The impact connected dead center.

A thunderclap tore through the arena, followed by a shockwave that rippled into the audience, shaking seats and drawing gasps from the crowd.

Lysa's body flew backward across the ring—unconscious before it hit the floor.

The stone beneath her cracked open like a spiderweb of broken glass.

Silence reigned.

The judge stepped forward, clearly rattled. His voice broke through the stunned quiet.

"W-Winner… Kai of the Emberlight Path!"

And then the coliseum exploded with noise.

Cheers. Screams. Cries of disbelief.

Even sect elders leaned forward, their stoic masks barely hiding their surprise—or worry.

The match had been expected to be close. Lysa was one of the top contenders.

But this? A single, absolute blow?

Kai stood in the center of the devastation he'd created, unmoved by the noise. Dust spiraled around him. His eyes closed for a brief moment—exhaling slowly.

He turned and walked from the shattered ring as medics rushed in.

He had no more need for words.

He had spoken with his fist—and the world had listened.

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