The Grand Arena was designed for spectacle, usually reserved for the scions of High Houses to display their shimmering mana-wings and gold-etched artifacts. Today, it felt like an execution ground.
I sat in a specialized hover-chair in the VIP box, draped in heavy furs despite the climate control. Seraphina stood behind me, her hand resting firmly on the back of my chair. She wasn't just my supervisor anymore; she was my tether to a reality she no longer trusted.
"You look pale, Valerius," she murmured, her Glacier Mana chilling the air around my neck. "Is the excitement too much for your 'shattered' nerves?"
"It's... a tragedy," I wheezed, my eyes fixed on the sand below. "A D-Rank challenging a Voss... it's suicide."
"Is it?" she countered. "Look at the boy's arm."
Down in the pit, Leo looked like a scavenger among kings. He wore his standard grey D-Rank fatigues, but his left arm was encased in the matte-black Void-Interface Vane had grafted in the sub-levels. It didn't glow. It didn't hum. Against the brilliant midday sun, it looked like a hole in the world.
Opposite him, Kaelen Voss was a god of lightning. His Grade-3 Pulse-Gauntlet crackled with azure electricity, and his silk combat robes were reinforced with silver-thread wards.
"You want a Trial of Blood, rat?" Kaelen's voice was amplified by the arena's resonators. "I'll give you a funeral. I'll burn the 'Harvested' out of your memory."
"You can't burn what you can't touch, Voss," Leo said, his voice surprisingly steady.
The High Priest, sitting in the central box, dropped the white silk handkerchief. The duel was live.
Kaelen moved with the practiced grace of a high-tier mage. He thrust his gauntlet forward, unleashing a Triple-Chain Lightning Bolt. The blue arcs tore through the air, moving at speeds no human could dodge.
The crowd leaned in, expecting Leo to be charred to a cinder.
Instead, Leo simply raised his black metallic arm.
Thrum.
There was no explosion. No clash of energies. As the lightning hit the black plates, it didn't dissipate—it collapsed. The electricity twisted into a spiral, losing its brilliance, turning a dull, bruised violet before being sucked into the intake ports of the cybernetic arm.
Leo didn't even flinch. He took a step forward.
"What... what did you do?" Kaelen stammered, his gauntlet recharging with a frantic whine. "That was a Grade-3 strike! My father's own technicians—"
"Your father's technicians build toys," Leo interrupted.
Kaelen roared, dumping his entire mana-reserve into a Nova-Blast. A dome of white-hot energy expanded from his body, intended to vaporize everything within ten yards. It was a desperate, inefficient move—the kind a noble makes when they realize their "superiority" is a lie.
Leo ran straight into the Nova.
To the audience, it looked like he was committing suicide. But through my connection to the Void-Core, I could see the truth. Leo's arm was acting as a high-frequency vacuum. He wasn't walking through fire; he was carving a tunnel of "nothingness" through the heat.
He emerged from the white light like a ghost, his black fist already mid-swing.
CRACK.
The blow didn't just hit Kaelen's jaw; it shattered his Mana-Shield on contact. The Void-Fragment in Leo's knuckles "ate" the shield's frequency, rendering the expensive silver-thread wards as useless as wet paper.
Kaelen hit the sand, his jaw unhinged, his golden hair matted with blood.
The Arena went silent. Five thousand students, three dozen professors, and the High Priest himself sat in a vacuum of shock. A D-Rank had just grounded an S-Rank with a single physical blow.
"Illegal!" the High Priest screamed, standing up, his face a mask of purple rage. "That arm! It's a forbidden artifact! Guards! Seize the heretic!"
I felt Seraphina's grip tighten on my chair. Her eyes were wide, scanning the Arena for the source of the technology.
"It's not an artifact, High Priest," I whispered, loud enough only for Seraphina to hear.
"What did you say?" she hissed, leaning down.
"It's just... a mirror," I wheezed, letting a fake tremor take my hands. "A mirror of what they did to us. If you take the soul out of a boy, Supervisor... don't be surprised when he fills the hole with something... colder."
Down in the pit, Leo didn't wait for the guards. He turned to the D-Rank section—the "Discarded"—and raised his black fist.
Five hundred students stood up. They didn't cheer. They didn't shout. They simply looked at the VIP boxes with eyes that were no longer afraid.
The Infection had reached the heart.
"We need to leave," Seraphina said, her voice trembling. "Now, Valerius. The Princess needs to know... the Void isn't just a fracture anymore. It's an army."
As they wheeled me out, I caught a glimpse of Vane on the distant rafters. He gave a sharp, subtle signal: Phase Two: The Economic Collapse of House Voss begins tonight.