Rebirth of the Battle God

Chapter 6: Rise of the Unbroken

The arena went quiet. Not just quiet—electrically, breathlessly still. Every spectator froze, eyes wide, hearts hammering. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, like it didn’t dare disturb the moment.

On the battlefield, the spectral forms clashed. A dragon, scales shimmering like molten silver, collided with a tiger wrapped in crackling golden light. Each strike ripped through the air, sending shockwaves that made the very ground tremble. Claws met scales. Energy collided with energy. The raw force of their duel was almost tangible, vibrating in the bones of every single spectator. Everyone knew, deep down, the end was near. This wasn’t just a fight—it was a crescendo that none could ignore.

From the viewing platform, Seraphina’s icy gaze never wavered. She saw everything—every flicker of movement, every ripple of energy—but a murmur drew her attention to her side.

“To battle across realms… the victor is already decided,” Valtor said, his hands folded neatly behind his back. There was something faintly admiring in his tone, though it was hidden beneath that calm mask of authority.

Across the stands, Eldric looked… different. Older, more fragile, as though a shadow had passed over him. Lines on his face twitched, a chill running down his spine. His eyes flicked repeatedly to the clashing dragon and tiger, as though expecting disaster at any moment. He didn’t know who would win, but some heavy, foreboding weight pressed against his chest. Something that whispered, Things will never be the same.

Theron watched too, sensing something he hadn’t before. Darian’s peak Body Refinement had seemed manageable once. But now, as the boy’s cultivation flared and shone, matching Lucian’s formidable power… Theron realized he had never truly grasped the scale of the young man standing before him.

Whispers raced through the crowd of young Valeblue clansmen.

“Who’s going to win?”

“It has to be Lucian! He’s already reached the Wandering Mortal Realm!”

“But Darian… he doesn’t seem weaker at all!”

The crowd’s hearts were gripped. Every breath suspended. Every eye was glued to the dueling phantoms. They were witnessing more than a fight—they were watching a battle for supremacy, a test to see who truly deserved the title of the Valeblue clan’s number one.

Aeris’s breaths came fast, shallow. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. The boy she had long dismissed as insignificant… he was standing toe-to-toe with her exalted “Brother Lucian.” Her jade-like hands clenched tight in frustration, her chair scraping sharply against the floor as she rose, eyes locked on the stage with a mix of shock and awe.

Then it happened. A roar ripped through the arena like a bolt of lightning.

“Prepare to fall!”

A pale-golden elemental force shot into the sky, shaking the floor beneath their feet. The tiger’s roar rolled like the pounding of war drums, reverberating in every ear. A figure flew helplessly through the air before crashing onto the shattered tiles. Blood sprayed in dark, arching arcs, staining the battlefield.

As the light faded, a tall, slender figure stepped from the smoke. Black hair whipped like midnight silk in the wind. Eyes sharp, calculating. Blades of focus cutting through the haze.

Darian.

Ten steps away, Lucian lay sprawled, bloodied, serpent-like eyes blazing with disbelief and rage. The outcome was undeniable.

“Darian won!”

“He defeated Lucian!”

“He must be the number one genius now!”

Cheers erupted from the Valeblue youths. Awe and fervor lit their eyes as they looked at the young man standing unbowed at the center of the stage.

Aeris went pale. Her image of Brother Lucian as untouchable was shattered. The boy she had once scorned now stood victorious, while her idol lay broken.

Darian’s arms ached from the battle, but his heart blazed with triumph. I did it. By my own hand, I defeated Lucian—and I’ve safeguarded the Blood Dragon Jade. Uncle Felric… no one can take what you left me.

For ten years, he had endured sneers, humiliation, and derision. At fifteen, he had toppled the golden son of the clan. The world would know. Darian had returned.

Lucian’s pride writhed beneath the crowd’s jeers. The favored heir, beaten by the boy everyone considered broken. Hatred burned in his chest—hot, venomous, ready to spill.

An elderly figure descended onto the stage, helping Lucian upright. Eldric.

Darian ignored them both, bowing instead to Theron.

“Uncle Theron… a month ago, Lucian tried to take my Blood Dragon Jade. You saw our agreement. Today, I won. I ask you to uphold justice.”

Theron’s eyes shone with pride. Warmth spread across his features.

“Hah! Darian, you hid your strength well. The Blood Dragon Jade was always yours. I only kept it safe until you were older, stronger. But now… you’ve earned it.”

With a graceful motion, a dragon-shaped pendant of pure blood-red jade appeared in his palm.

Darian’s breath caught. Uncle Felric’s keepsake—the vessel of a decade’s longing—is finally in his hands. Theron tossed it lightly, and Darian caught it. Fingers tightened around the smooth, warm stone. For a heartbeat, it felt as if Uncle Felric’s hand rested in his own.

Uncle Felric… I will find you.

He pressed the jade to his chest, alongside the unopened letter he had never parted with. His purpose here was complete. Time to leave the Valeblue clan behind and step into the vast, waiting world.

He turned to go.

“Darian! Just you wait! I won’t let you off!”

Lucian’s venomous cry froze him mid-step. Darian glanced back, calm, unshaken.

“Lucian, you lost. From today onward… whenever you see me, stay away. Remember that.”

The words cut into Lucian like a whip. Once a jest, now bitter reality. Rage boiled, nearly forcing him to spit blood again.

From the stands, Seraphina studied Darian with a mix of awe and caution. Even she no longer thought she could have bested him.

Valtor, silent until now, finally spoke. His gaze sharpened skyward.

“I wonder which guest honors my city of Lungrath. Forgive me for not welcoming you sooner.”

Heads tilted to the heavens.

A voice rolled across the arena like thunder.

“Darian… ten years have passed. They say you’re broken. Seems they were wrong.”

A colossal avian beast blotted out the sun, descending with three riders: an old man in yellow robes, a veiled woman, and a youth in azure robes embroidered with clouds.

The youth rose slowly, power radiating like an unbound storm.

Darian’s eyes narrowed. Voice low, sharp, fire in every syllable.

“So… it’s you. Jaren Shanley.”

Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Jaren? Who’s that?”

“Someone important?”

“Darian clearly knows him…”

On the platform, Seraphina’s composure hardened. From the green-robed youth radiated a suffocating pressure, sinking into her bones like a blade. Terrifying.

Darian, however, remained still as water, gaze locked on Jaren without fear.

“Jaren,” he said evenly, “ten years have passed. Didn’t expect to see you here, in Lungrath Main City.”

Jaren’s star-bright eyes glinted, sharp enough to cut steel.

“Body Refinement at Great Perfection… barely touching Mortal Purification Stage,” he said coldly. “Darian, you’re pitifully weak now.”

Darian’s lips curled in a faint, icy smile.

“Beat a weakened clan genius and play king over ants. Does that make you proud? You’ve truly disappointed me.”

The insult hit like a slap. Lucian’s face darkened, though he didn’t speak. Several Valeblue youths clenched their fists silently, outrage simmering.

Darian’s reply was frost itself.

“Ten years, and your mouth still begs for a beating? Didn’t your master teach you silence?”

“How dare you! Insolent—” the yellow-robed elder began.

Darian cut him off with precision.

“And who are you, that I should care when I speak to this brat?”

A soft, ethereal voice floated in.

“Helara Nyss. Do not lower yourself to the level of ants. This is my matter. Stay out of it.”

The veiled woman silenced the elder instantly.

Jaren’s gaze never left Darian. Ten years ago, humiliation drove him into seclusion at the Celestara Divine Sanctuary. Now honed, unyielding, he had returned. Darian’s presence ignited a storm of unresolved pride and malice.

“When you were weak, you lost the right to oppose me,” Jaren said. “Now… you are no longer weak. Still not strong—but not worthless. Our matter is far from over.”

An aura like heaven’s wrath poured from him, blanketing the arena. Valeblue juniors staggered as if crushed under a mountain. Even Seraphina flinched.

Theron stepped forward, golden light flaring behind him. His Great Spirit Core of the Heaven Rush Stage pushed back Jaren’s crushing aura.

Jaren smiled, unshaken.

“Heaven Rush Stage? Good. One move—Celestial Great Handprint.”

A massive cyan handprint appeared, ten paces wide, descending like judgment from the heavens.

“Heavenly Dragon Palm!”

Theron countered with a dragon phantom roaring skyward. The arena shook violently. For a heartbeat, it seemed matched—then the cyan hand blazed brighter, tearing through the dragon like paper. Theron staggered, blood spraying from his lips.

“Uncle Theron!” Darian shouted, catching him.

Behind Jaren, a golden Spirit Core rose. He, too, had reached Heaven Rush Stage. Silence fell. Even Lucian’s vaunted talent seemed dust before this fifteen-year-old powerhouse.

Darian’s eyes burned. Jaren had crossed a line.

“Jaren!” His voice cracked like thunder.

“What? Angry? Hahaha… one finger, I could crush you. But I won’t. Ten years from today, I will fight you again—and then I’ll defeat you myself.”

Theron’s fury surged.

“You’re declaring war on the hundred main cities of the Eastern Lands?”

Valtor’s voice cut through, storm-dark.

Jaren bowed slightly, mock politeness.

“No offense intended. Everything depends on Darian’s choice.”

The great bird-beast cried, shadow swallowing the sun. Above, the arena trembled under destiny’s weight.

A tense silence. The world seemed to pause, waiting for Darian’s next move.