As a Saint wielding higher-dimensional power, it was child''s play for Saint Drakos to break through Golden Booster''s Temporal Zone.

    The radiant dome that twisted time itself, an ability of mythic rank, began to tremble the moment Drakos arrived—reality fracturing under his presence like glass under pressure. With a mere glance and a wave of his hand, the Zone shattered into countless motes of warped light.

    The moment Drakos emerged from the dimensional tear, Golden Booster''s body moved on instinct—he backstepped, increasing the distance between them. Every cell in his body screamed danger. Even injured, the man who appeared radiated a pressure so overwhelming, Booster knew he wouldn''t survive if he made a single wrong move.

    Drakos didn''t even spare him a glance.

    Sarpa, recognizing the figure instantly, stumbled toward him, his voice laced with concern and relief.

    "My lord, are you alright? What happened to Snake Demon?"

    The name Snake Demon was a codename used to address Lyon a powerful operative within Drakos'' dark hierarchy.

    Drakos ignored the question about his own condition entirely. His tone was flat, absolute.

    "He betrayed us. So I killed him."

    The answer sent Sarpa into a rage.

    "That snake dared betray us?! I''ll make sure his entire family suffers for this—"

    Before he could spiral further, Booster spoke—cutting into the madness.

    "Who are you? Are you the boss of this masked lunatic?"

    Sarpa''s mood shifted instantly, regaining false bravado from Drakos'' presence.

    "How dare you speak to my lord in such a tone!"

    Booster blinked, genuinely taken aback.

    ''Was this man… mentally stable?''

    Sarpa turned to Drakos, zeal in his voice.

    "My lord, let me deal with him. The Temporal Zone is gone—I can finish this."

    But Drakos merely raised his hand in dismissal.

    "No. We don''t have time. I need to retreat and stabilize before my condition worsens."

    In truth, Drakos was in dire shape. His battle with Saint Theresa had pushed his body and soul to the brink.

    The dimensional tear he used to escape had only worsened his injuries, and forcing a breach through Booster''s Temporal Zone had left him teetering on collapse.

    He was stalling—gathering what remained of his vast, fractured power to teleport himself, Sarpa, and the remaining Sentinels from Tartarus.

    But Booster didn''t know that.

    All Booster saw was a man—injured, yet radiating an aura of finality, as if death itself walked beside him.

    For several long minutes, no one moved.

    Booster''s fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing. Every instinct screamed: don''t attack. Not now. Not yet.

    Then—

    Drakos opened his eyes. A pulse of energy rolled outward, and he muttered:

    "It is done."

    His gaze drifted behind Booster, to the prison cell housing Mirveil. Though Booster had stabilized her earlier, she remained injured and unconscious, slumped against the cell wall.

    Drakos stared for a moment.

    Then did nothing.

    In the blink of an eye, he and Sarpa, along with all the Sentinels who had been locked in battle with the Warden, vanished in a burst of spatial energy—gone without a trace.

    A heavy silence followed.

    Moments later, the Warden appeared, battered but alive, his armor cracked and blood streaked across his face. He looked at the scorched battlefield, at the vanished foes, and asked:

    "What happened?"

    Booster exhaled, tension finally bleeding from his body as he turned.

    "I have no idea…"

    He looked up, eyes narrowed with resolve.

    "But I feel like something big is about to be revealed."

    ****

    Back at the Crownspire Ascension Arena, the aftermath of the shocking attack was being swiftly and efficiently handled.

    Guards moved with precision, their formation tight as they disposed of the broken, scorched bodies of the Sentinels that Saint Theresa had personally defeated during Saint Drakos'' escape. Despite the chaos that had erupted when one of the most dangerous Saints in existence appeared, none of the contestants had been harmed.

    It was a testament to the efficiency and readiness of the Crownspire''s elite guard division. However, not everything had gone perfectly.

    The announcer, a veteran figure known for his composed demeanor, hadn''t been so lucky. Lyon, operating under the codename Snake Demon, had struck him down with a surprise attack—a poisoned needle laced with a neurotoxin meant to incapacitate without warning.

    Fortunately, a Saint-level healer had been present at the Arena. The poison was neutralized in time, and the announcer''s life was saved.

    Though the Crownspire Ascension had been interrupted, it was clear to everyone that something unprecedented had occurred. Amid the assault, one individual had risen above all expectations.

    Someone had stood their ground, faced one of the major figures of the conflict… and won.

    That alone was undeniable proof of strength.

    And that person—was Ethan Cross.

    ---

    As the guards cleaned the battlefield and secured the area, Ethan stood silently near the medical tent, his eyes fixed on Sophia, who lay on a healing bed.

    Her breathing was shallow, her body wrapped in glowing threads of restorative energy. Kairo''s brutal attack had left her in critical condition.

    Although Ethan possessed Vital Bloom, a rare ability that could heal him rapidly, its effects on others were greatly diminished. All he could do now was watch, powerless, as a professional healer worked tirelessly to treat Sophia who had fallen unconcious right after Drakos escape.

    Then—

    Footsteps approached.

    Ethan didn''t turn. He didn''t need to.

    "Who was that man that attacked?"

    His voice was flat, strained with barely concealed tension. He didn''t bother to look up.

    The woman who stood behind him didn''t mind the tone.

    "That was Saint Drakos," Saint Theresa replied, her voice calm but edged with bitterness.

    Ethan finally looked up, his eyes sharp.

    "You seem to know him."

    Theresa''s gaze didn''t flinch.

    "We have a history."

    That was all she offered.

    Ethan simply nodded. He didn''t press further. It was already remarkable that a Saint had answered his questions at all.

    But then—Theresa took a step closer, her tone shifting.

    "Since I''ve answered some of your questions… may I ask you one in return?"

    Ethan turned his eyes back to Sophia, but nodded.

    "If it''s something I can answer go ahead." S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    Theresa''s next words caused his eyes to widen, breath catching for just a moment.

    "How would you like to train under me?"

    Time seemed to freeze for Ethan. His mind, hardened by battles and tempered through countless trials, had not expected that.

    A Saint—one of the most powerful beings alive—had just extended an offer that could change his fate forever.

    ****

    The Crownspire Ascension was known to the world as a grand tournament—a once-in-a-generation event meant to uncover the strongest combatant of the era, a proving ground where heroes and prodigies competed not only for glory but for the acknowledgment and favor of the Saints.

    But that was only the surface.

    Beneath the dazzling lights and the noble titles, a deeper truth stirred—one known only to a few.

    It was not just about strength.

    Not just about prestige.

    The Crownspire Ascension was a selection.

    A silent, sacred ritual to find someone special.

    A Champion—who the Saints would personally train and prepare… to face the [ENEMY].

    ---

    When Saint Theresa revealed this truth to Ethan Cross, he stood in stunned silence.

    "The [ENEMY]…?" he echoed, his voice low but filled with sharp disbelief.

    His reaction didn''t go unnoticed.

    Theresa''s eyes widened. Her composure cracked for a split second as she turned to fully face him.

    "You know about the [ENEMY]?"

    It was more than a question—it was a demand.

    Ethan''s jaw clenched. He hadn''t meant to let that slip. The shock had made him careless.

    A flicker of regret appeared in his eyes.

    Saint Theresa saw it immediately as her gaze softened.

    "If you do not wish to tell me," she said gently, "I understand. But I hope that, one day, when you trust me… you''ll be willing to share what you know."

    Her words were unexpected. She could have easily forced him to speak—she was a Saint, after all.

    But she didn''t.

    She offered him respect, patience, and choice.

    And in that moment, Ethan''s impression of her shifted. She wasn''t just powerful—she was someone worthy of trust.

    ---

    Then, Theresa posed her question once more.

    "So, what is your answer?"

    Ethan hesitated, glancing back at Sophia. The weight of everything—his responsibilities, the hidden war, the unknown future—pressed on him.

    "Can I think about it for a while… before I make a final decision?"

    Theresa nodded, smiling faintly.

    "Of course."

    She reached into her robes and pulled out a small pendant, etched with celestial runes and glowing faintly with divine energy.

    "When you''re ready… break this. I''ll come to you."

    Ethan took it carefully and nodded in understanding.

    Theresa''s eyes flicked to Sophia, still being tended to by healers.

    "She must be very important to you."

    Ethan didn''t speak. He just nodded.

    Then Theresa raised her hand.

    A brilliant, golden light surged from her palm and engulfed Sophia''s body. The healing energy was so intense that it caused the very light within the arena to dim, drawn toward her spell.

    Sophia''s body lifted into the air, her form bathed in radiant energy as her wounds mended before everyone''s eyes.

    Moments later, she gently floated back down, landing on her feet—fully healed.

    Ethan didn''t even blink.

    She was a Saint. This level of miracle was within her grasp.

    But he still stepped forward, quietly asking:

    "Can you do this again… for her father?"

    Theresa turned to him, meeting his eyes.

    "No problem," she said with a soft smile. "As long as I can earn your trust."

    Ethan''s voice was quiet, but sincere.

    "Thank you."