CHAPTER 28: CHAPTER 28: CLAIM IT IF YOU CAN

Arden stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the gathered clans without an ounce of hesitation.

His voice rose, as he spoke to the Elders, calm but loud enough to cut through the murmurs.

"Here’s how we’ll settle this," he said. "If any of your younglings can defeat me, they can have the ruin. Simple."

The silence that followed was brief. Then came a wave of scoffs and muttered curses from the crowd.

"Arrogant brat."

"Who does he think he is?"

But the elders were watching closely now, curious. The proposition was bold, reckless even, but it served their interests. And if he really was the one who cleared the ruin, then beating him would be all the more glorious.

Arden smiled, a slight tilt of the head.

"Go ahead, send them one after the other. I’d rather beat them quick than listen to your old complaints all day."

The elders didn’t share in the humor. Their pride had been poked, and pride didn’t sit quietly.

"You’ll regret that, outsider," muttered one of the Caelum elders. "Put him down."

That was all the young man needed.

He stepped forward with the kind of grace that came from years of being told he was special. Robes clean, posture proud, his expression barely hid the disdain.

Arden’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Caelum blood, huh?"

The memory stirred. The host whose body he now called his had seen this boy once before—Veyron Caelum, a peak Vein Surge talent known for his control over wind. He had precise and efficient control, but was Arrogant.

"Step aside, mongrel," Veyron said, voice sharp. "This place belongs to those who earned their name."

"Then come take it."

No more words.

Veyron struck first. The wind shifted with his movement, gathering around him as a shimmering blade of air took form. It launched forward, slicing through the dust with clean speed.

But Arden didn’t budge. He watched the attack approach, then sidestepped without effort. Then he moved like he had all the time in the world, meeting Veyron’s chest with a dull thud. A heartbeat later, the noble was flat on the ground, wind magic scattering into nothing.

The crowd blinked.

Arden stood over him, dusting his hands.

"Is this what passes for elite now?" he asked, glancing at the Caelum elders. "No wonder you’re always whining about tradition. You’ve got nothing left but name."

"You insolent—"

A loud bang cut through the air.

From the side, a burst of flame and rock shattered the ground where Arden stood.

But he was no longer there.

He reappeared several steps away, arms folded, expression flat.

"Interrupting me mid-speech?" Arden clicked his tongue. "That’s just rude."

The ground where he had been cracked and scorched. A figure stood within the steam and smoke, fists clenched, breath hot.

"You lowly bastard!" the Ironblood youth shouted. "You want to run your mouth, try to run it while I cave it in!"

The Ironblood style was direct. The boy’s body lit up with a fiery red hue, veins glowing slightly as his elemental aura surged. His fire affinity gathered around his limbs for both defense and attacks as it coursed through his strikes.

A proper battle mage—brute strength enhanced by affinity.

He lunged.

The ground trembled with each step as he closed in, aiming to end it with a single crushing blow.

But Arden caught his fist.

There was a moment of silence.

Then a crack echoed.

The Ironblood youth dropped with a groan, his knees hitting the dirt as Arden let go of his now numb arm.

"You tried to ambush me," Arden muttered. "And you still didn’t land a hit."

He turned back to the crowd, arms once again folded, his tone casual.

"Anyone else?"

Zephyra sat by the side, silent, her golden eyes tracking the fallen fighters. She gave no sign of amusement or tension, only stillness. A watchful, waiting presence.

Arden looked over the clans again.

"Come on. Surely one of you can put up a fight."

And with that, the ruin’s new master stood before them, alone but undeterred, daring the next to step forward.

Of course, it didn’t end with two.

A few more stepped forward, each hoping to succeed where the others failed.

A young woman from the Runekin Guild tried binding his movements with glowing rune seals, only for Arden to walk right through them, shrugging off the enchantments like a breeze brushing past his coat.

A fire-slinger from the Luminaria Order followed next, casting bolts in rapid bursts. Arden dodged without much effort, weaving between them with quiet ease, then sent him flying with a flick of his foot.

Then came a sudden shift in the air.

An assassin-type mage from the Noctharum Sect launched from the shadows, twin curved daggers aimed for his ribs. His movements were fast and calculated, vanishing and reappearing mid-strike. He moved with the fluid precision of someone trained to kill with minimal motion.

Arden yawned.

Actually yawned, while dodging every slice.

"You’re quick, I’ll give you that," he said mid-step, then tilted his head as a blade missed him by an inch. "But still too slow."

He caught the assassin’s wrist mid blink and slammed him into the ground.

"You’re wasting my time."

He turned to the crowd, voice rising.

"Enough of this, if you lot still think you’ve got a shot, come together. I don’t have all day to babysit bruised egos."

That did it.

Around six of them stepped up, each from different clans, no longer caring about fighting fair. Lightning cracked, water surged, earth trembled, and air twisted as the young mages took formation, combining their spells in a wave of color and force.

The ground quaked under their combined barrage. Blades of wind cut the air, fiery arcs lashed forward, and stone pillars shot from the floor trying to corner him.

For a moment, the battlefield lit up like a festival of destruction.

When the dust cleared, Arden stood right in the middle, not a scratch on him. Zephyra had moved further off, watching silently, tail twitching just once.

Arden sighed and cracked his knuckles.

"Since we’re dropping all pretense, I’ll return the favor."

He vanished again.

This time, he moved too fast for most to follow. In seconds, two were down with broken pride and limbs. Another tried to summon a barrier, but Arden shattered it with a knee to the gut. A water mage gasped as her spell was caught mid-cast and redirected into her own ally.

It didn’t take long before they all dropped.

One groaned, another tried to crawl away. The others just lay there, staring at the sky, trying to make sense of what hit them.

Arden stood over them, brushing a bit of dust from his sleeve.

He looked at the elders, voice steady.

"That should be enough. Or do you want me to knock some of you down too, just to prove I earned this place?"

Silence.

None answered.

He gave a short nod, then turned and began walking away. Nyra followed at his side, her steps still wobbly, but her eyes shone with a quiet fire. Zephyra came behind, her gaze still flicking back to the clans, but her low growl said enough.

The younglings behind spat curses under their breath, too sore or humiliated to speak louder.

Arden didn’t care. He didn’t even look back.

The ruin was his.

And now, they all knew it.

A/N:

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