There wasn't the slightest need for caution. The labyrinthine corridors lay deserted, devoid of all human presence, as if swept clean by an invisible force that directed collective attention toward the pulsating heart of the main arena.
The enigmatic figure, whose face remained hidden behind its expressionless covering, finally halted before a door forgotten by time: the entrance to an ancient arcane calibration chamber, a space that most inhabitants of the academy considered useless and deactivated for countless decades.
The masked being extended a bony, pale hand toward the dusty surface of the door. Its skin, smooth until that moment, began to crack slowly and ominously, akin to obsidian shattering under immense pressure, revealing flashes of a blackish, viscous light that pulsed within like a corrupted heart.
That individual was nothing more than a replica, a simulacrum. But it was no ordinary copy; it was a clone meticulously molded from the very essence of Zephyr Blackthorn, imitating his form and whispering echoes of his power, although his countenance remained concealed behind the mask.
Behind the inscrutable covering, his thin, pale lips barely moved, articulating words that seemed to resonate with an ancient coldness:
"The words have been spoken on the wind. The abyss now bares its fangs." With a deliberate movement, the covered hand touched the center of an intricately carved emblem on the stone surface.
An invisible energy, like a silent, spectral pulse, expanded in the immediate surroundings, propagating like a mute shockwave that traveled through the deep foundations of the coliseum, vibrating through the ancient structure. No one on the surface heard that energetic impact.
No one witnessed its propagation. However, everyone, without understanding the cause, felt it as a fleeting chill that raised goosebumps on their skin.
In the arena, where the pitched battle had reached its climax, the combatants stopped abruptly, if only for a fraction of a second. A subtle tremor, almost imperceptible but impossible to completely ignore, ran down their spines like the harbinger of an imminent event. Kael, his brow furrowed in confusion, questioned his opponent:
"Did you feel that? What the hell was that?" "Something... something disturbed the harmony of the energy flow," Lyra responded, stepping back with instinctive caution, her senses alert to the anomaly.
Vahn turned his gaze toward the sky, his face reflecting palpable bewilderment at the strange sensation that had washed over him. Jake, on the other hand, experienced an icy shudder that ran down his spine like an electric shock. His senses, normally sharp and attuned to stellar energies, suddenly clouded, losing nearly a third of their perception, as if his vital connection to cosmic energy had been partially strangled by an invisible force.
However, something deep within him—an ancestral inheritance, a legacy dormant in his blood—prevented that mysterious seal from completely subduing him. Aetherian Blood. Lying dormant, latent for generations... and now, awakening and offering resistance.
Meanwhile, in a hermetically sealed underground chamber, Raven trembled uncontrollably, kneeling on a cold, damp floor that seemed to throb with a dark, subterranean life beneath his hands. A sinister chain, forged with filaments of corrupted energy and solidified shadows, encircled his neck like an oppressive noose. It was not merely an instrument of physical torture; it was a constant reminder of his servitude and his fate.
In front of him, standing erect and motionless like a black wax statue whose appearance hidden behind the mask revealed no emotion, Zephyr's clone observed his suffering with a chilling impassivity.
"Everything is in place," the serene voice emanating from behind the mask murmured, devoid of any trace of agitation. "One of my duplicates was infiltrated among the jury. The moment you leave the coliseum, you must act without hesitation. The semifinals have already begun... there will be no more opportunities for interference or wavering."
Raven gasped for breath, his breathing ragged with anguish and the oppression emanating from the surroundings. The floor beneath his knees continued to vibrate with a disturbing frequency.
"What if... what if something goes wrong? What if...?" "You possess no alternative in this equation. However, if you need a justification for your actions, take this: I have dissipated one of my clones nearby. Apparently, a slippery girl managed to track it. You must make your appearance before she reaches the coliseum, as the imposed seal had no effect on her being. Use the resulting chaos as your primary ally."
Raven lowered his head in a sign of submission, swallowing hard at the knot of terror that formed in his throat. There was no pact between them. No deal or negotiation possible. Only blind and absolute obedience. No one would come to his rescue.
And he... deep down, no longer harbored the desire to save himself. His spirit had succumbed to the weight of despair.
The simulacrum disappeared without making the slightest sound, vanishing into the dense air like a wisp of dry smoke carried away by an invisible breeze. A dark crack, a portal of viscous shadows, suddenly opened beneath Raven's feet, engulfing him in its unfathomable darkness.
Above, in the main arena of the coliseum, space itself seemed to fracture and recompose in an instant. The air vibrated with an unnatural frequency, impossible to consciously perceive but which raised the hairs on the napes of everyone's necks. The combatants and the assembled public blinked in unison, bewildered by the sudden anomaly. A brutal, cold, and oppressive presence stole their breath, filling the atmosphere with a sense of imminent danger.
And then, Raven appeared in the middle of the arena, emerging from nowhere like a spectral apparition. He stood there, swaying slightly, his gaze lost in an inner void and the expression on his face sealed by the petrifying horror of what he had witnessed, hidden behind a mask with orange patterns that simulated cracks emitting a strange light.
In his inert arms, he held Lucian's lifeless body. Not a close friend. Not a brother-in-arms. Just another student, an anonymous face in the crowd. A mere instrument, a macabre message delivered in silence. Lyra spun sharply on her heels, completely forgetting Kael's presence and the intensity of their fight.
"What... what the hell is happening?!" Kael recoiled instinctively, his hand reaching for the hilt of his weapon at the sudden and chilling intrusion. Vahn felt an icy sweat trickle slowly down his neck, chilling his skin and momentarily paralyzing his muscles.
Jake gritted his teeth, staggering slightly at the wave of unease that washed over him. The invisible seal still tugged at his life essence, trying to subdue him, but the ancestral force that ran through his veins resisted tenaciously, preventing it from completely breaking him.
A sepulchral silence fell over the coliseum, suffocating the murmurs and previous excitement in a void of incomprehension and terror. The final demonstration had taken an unexpected and sinister turn.