Location: The Crucible Grounds - Arena Floor
Time: Present Day - Tournament Semifinals
The dust still hung in the air like a funeral shroud as Evan Torrent stood over Grace's crumpled form. His hand remained twisted in her hair, his grip unyielding, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. The energy around him pulsed erratically—waves of force radiating outward in uncontrolled bursts that left cracks in the arena floor.
His voice carried a note of venomous contempt.
"In all my years, I have never met anyone so indecent and indolent as yourself. And from a female, no less. You should be ashamed. You should be groveling for my forgiveness."
The crowd's reaction was immediate—a chorus of heckling that rose from the stands like a wave of disgust.
"How can you do that to such a delicate flower?!" one spectator shouted, his voice carrying a note of genuine outrage.
"Yeah, I thought he was supposed to be a gentleman!" another added.
"More like a hypocrite if you ask me!" a third chimed in.
"Probably he's one of those types with weird tastes—only someone like that could be this brutally violent toward a woman."
A crumpled cup sailed through the air, aimed at Evan's head. Then another. Then a half-empty bottle.
Evan's eyes flickered. The air around him shimmered, and the projectiles stopped mid-flight, suspended in a field of invisible force. They hung there for a moment, then fell to the ground in a clatter.
Evan's head snapped toward the crowd, his voice carrying a note of cold fury.
"SHUT UP!"
A wave of force erupted from him, a shockwave of pure rage that sent ripples through the air. The crowd recoiled, their heckling dying in their throats. The pressure was immense, suffocating—like being trapped in a room with a ticking bomb.
"You bunch are the most self-absorbed, mediocre, and weak fools I have ever known or met!" Evan's voice carried a note of venomous fury. "You sit there in your comfortable seats, judging me, throwing your garbage like the pathetic insects you are! And yet not one of you has the courage to come down here and face me!"
The crowd fell silent. No one dared to speak back.
Eugene's voice cut through the tension, sharp and cold. "Don't you all have any idea of who you're staring at right now? I am one of the very few on this planet chosen to rise. I will use all of you as my stepping stones. You must all have pig brains—because you don't know the gravity of the situation you're walking into."
The goofy kid with glasses leaned forward, his hand adjusting the recording device embedded in his frames. His voice was barely a whisper.
"That's right. Keep on yapping."
Evan's smile was demented, his voice carrying a note of dark amusement. "You are all like children given candy. You take it, you enjoy the sweetness of it, not minding who gave you the candy. Not caring whether behind that sweetness, there is something that will lead you down a darker path."
His expression shifted, his eyes gleaming with lunatic intensity.
"I will show you all the truth. I will show you what it means to be chosen."
---
VIP Section
Valerik's voice carried a note of pitiful disgust. "Sheesh, Eugene. Did that boy from your end blow his brains in the process? Because right now, he's behaving like a hooligan."
Brenna's voice was flat, dismissive. "More like revealing who he truly is. And the ones behind his upbringing... tsk, tsk."
She shook her head dramatically, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern in the air.
"I'm afraid, Eugene, that your bosses won't be a fan of your brother's slip-up blunder. Well, of course, I'm not surprised. You did mention you follow the heartless path."
Eugene's jaw tightened, his fingers digging into his palms. His eyes blazed with cold fury.
Whoever interfered in this tournament, he thought, his internal voice carrying a note of dark promise, will pay the price for all of this. I swear it.
---
Evan's voice carried a note of triumphant glee. "When I am in the limelight of glory, standing with others like myself on top of the bodies of pests such as you, it will be a gracious paradise. I can already see it happening."
His free hand gestured grandly, his movements increasingly erratic, lunatic. His grip on Grace's hair tightened, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"And you, my dear, will be the first to fall."
Grace's hand shot up, grabbing the wrist of the hand that held her hair. Her grip was firm, unyielding. Her voice carried a note of quiet defiance.
"You really are proving me right."
Evan's eyes narrowed. "What did you say, bitch?"
Grace's voice was cold, sharp.
"That you are an insecure piece of trash."
A strange energy began to pulse around her—a warm, golden light that seemed to radiate from her very core. It was gentle at first, almost imperceptible. But it grew stronger with each passing moment, the golden tendrils reaching up to intertwine with the dark energy that surrounded Evan.
Evan's eyes widened, his voice carrying a note of genuine fear. "What—what are you doing?!"
He tried to break free, to pull his hand away. But Grace's grip was unbreakable, her fingers locked around his wrist like iron.
The golden light began to absorb the dark energy around him—devouring it, transforming it into something else entirely. The force that had once radiated from him began to fade, replaced by a warm, radiant glow.
"Stop it!" Evan shouted, his voice carrying a note of desperate terror. "What are you doing to me?!"
Grace's voice was calm, almost gentle.
"Showing you who you really are."
---
The arena fell silent. The golden light continued to pulse around Grace, her form bathed in a warm, radiant glow. Evan's dark energy continued to fade, absorbed by the light that surrounded her.
His voice was a whisper, broken and desperate.
"Please... stop..."
Grace's gaze was unwavering.
"It's time for you to face the truth."
The golden light intensified, a brilliant radiance that seemed to fill the entire arena.