HEAVEN'S FORSAKEN SON

Duel & Thrones Cracking

The tournament grounds shook with the roar of the crowd. Sunlight was bright across the martial arena. It glinted off already clean weapons and the gilded through thrones where the clan elders sat in judgment.

Youth after youth clashed upon the sand. Each duel was a combat of qi and sword. Cheers rose when fire erupted and when blades hit one another.

Arin stood silent at the edges, cloak drawn, watching. His turn had not yet come, but people talked about him wherever he went.

“That’s him, the exile.”

“He dares fight in the tournament?”

“Maybe he’ll collapse before he even takes a stance.”

They sneered. But their voices trembled faintly now, for some had already seen his controlled strikes in the early rounds where he dispatched opponents without wasted movement.

Arin never revealed the full breadth of his strength. Yet each clash carried a weight that made the crowd gasp in shock. His fists struck like dragons hidden in mist and his footwork impossibly fluid for a boy once branded crippled.

“Ding! Side Quest Complete.

Objective: Conceal true strength in 3 consecutive matches.

Reward: Stealth Attribute +10. Reputation Shift: Unpredictable.”

Arin’s eyes narrowed. The system was watching everything and guiding every step toward a greater reckoning.

The announcer’s booming voice cut through the crowd.

“Next match! Arin Darkveil, the Exiled Son, versus Kael Darkveil, heir of the Second Elder!”

The arena erupted with gasps, laughter and anticipation. Everything surged into a fever pitch. This was the fight they had craved for in a long time. The trash against the genius. L

Kael stepped forward first, scarlet qi rolled off him in waves and fire swirled at his fists. His robes blazed but his eyes gleamed with arrogance.

“Finally,” he sneered, loud enough for all to hear. “The trash gets fed to the flames.”

The crowd cheered his words, intoxicated by his confidence.

Then Arin stepped onto the stage. His cloak fell back, revealing calm eyes and steady steps. 

The silence that rippled through the arena was sharper than any jeer.

The gong thundered. Kael charged aggressively as fists wreathed in fire and his strikes left trails of molten light. “Burn, cripple!” he roared.

Arin moved forward. His body bent like a fluid, sliding through Kael’s strikes with minimal motion. His fist darted once. It was a measured blow that sent Kael stumbling.

Gasps exploded from the stands.

Kael snarled. His face flushed. He summoned more qi and his fire roared higher. He launched his clan’s proudest technique… the Blazing Phoenix Strike, the sky went ablaze with wings of flame.

The crowd rose to their feet, certain it would end Arin.

But Arin’s gaze was cold.

“Ding! System Directive: Execute Dragon Vein Fist (Proficiency 78%).

Temporary Buff: Meridian Flow +15%.”

His veins surged. Qi roared through him like awakening dragons.

“Dragon Vein Fist!”

His strike descended in a blur of the earth itself. The air cracked and fire scattered throughout the atmosphere.

Kael was hurled across the arena, smashing into the stone wall with blood spraying from his lips. Silence swallowed the crowd.

Arin stood unmoved. His fist still hummed with dragon echoes.

“Ding! Main Quest Progression: Duel Completed. Reputation Surge +50.”

He had won.

But Arin did not advance to finish him. He stopped, his gaze was cool and his posture composed.

“I will not kill my kin,” he said. His voice was carried across the arena. “Even if they spit on me, even if they call me trash. My strength is not to slaughter my family, it is to defy those who corrupt it.”

The words rang sharper than any blade.

Kael’s face twisted in humiliation, not from pain but from restraint. To be defeated was one thing and to be spared was declared unworthy of execution… That was a scar deeper than death.

The crowd erupted in murmurs. “Did he hold back?”

“He could have killed him!”

“What kind of cripple is this?”

On the elders’ dais, faces twisted in surprise. 

The First Elder’s eyes gleamed with restrained awe. The Third Elder whispered heatedly about destiny and omens. But the Second Elder who happened to be Kael’s father went pale as bone.

“That boy…” he hissed. “He should not have been able to…”

Arin’s eyes snapped upward, meeting him across the arena. And then, he spoke.

“Second Elder,” Arin said in a steady voice, “your corruption festers this clan. You plot against those weaker than you. You brand innocence as curses. How long will you hide behind honor while rotting its roots?”

The arena gasped. To call out an elder publicly was unthinkable.

The Second Elder moved to his feet. His face was twisted with fury. “Insolence!” he bellowed. “You dare slander me, exile? You dare challenge the council’s authority?”

At that moment, the system flared before Arin’s eyes.

“Ding! Major Quest Triggered.

Host objective Is to overthrow the Second Elder within 30 days.

Core Formation Path will be Unlocked. Access to Heaven-Slaying Arts (Tier 1).

Penalty: –30 years lifespan. Immediate execution of clan banishment decree if failed.”

Arin’s heart thundered. The system had sealed his path. His duel was not just about Kael, it was the opening stroke against the throne itself.

He stood firm, even as murmurs were flying around.

The council chamber hummed with tension. Some elders leaned forward with their eyes gleaming with dangerous interest. Others recoiled, muttering about omens and curses.

The Second Elder’s fists trembled. “He will be punished immediately.”

But the First Elder raised a hand. “He won his duel fairly. Before the clan and before the heavens. To punish him now would shame us all.”

The Second Elder’s jaw clenched, but he bowed stiffly, hate in his gaze. “So be it. But this boy will bring ruin. Mark my words.”

Arin exhaled slowly, the weight of enemies pressing heavier on him. 

He had triumphed… yes. He had shattered Kael’s arrogance and stood tall before the clan. For the first time, their gazes carried fear and respect.

But triumph was tinged. His victory had not freed him. It had chained him tighter to the system’s merciless path.

To overthrow an elder… it was no longer a rivalry. Arin was calling for war. 

Lyra’s eyes met his from the crowd. She gave a faint nod. It was a silent acknowledgement that the road had darkened.

………..

….

That night, as the arena became empty and the torches drowned, a different kind of silence fell.

Messengers slipped through the clan gates. They were covered in black. They had scrolls stamped with rough sigils from the Stormfang Clan. Another carried a sealed edict glowing with golden script. It was the mark of the Heavenly Temple.

The letters were delivered straight to the council’s chambers.

When the seals was cracked open, the message was simple, 

“Stormfang seeks blood. The Heavenly Temple demands an audience regarding the fate-defying boy.”

The clan halls trembled with the weight of doom.

Arin sat alone beneath the stars. The system’s window glowed faintly before him.

“Ding! New Threat Detected: External Forces Converging. Prepare for trials beyond the clan.”