Chapter 20: New Foe?

  The tournament was in full swing, and Marcus could feel the electric charge of anticipation in the air. The crowd’s cheers thundered through the arena, a hum of energy vibrating through the very stones beneath his feet. The shouts of excitement, the roar of every clash, it was all building up to something monumental. Marcus sat alongside Vira, momentarily lost in the frenzy below, trying to shake off the anxious knot forming in his stomach. The weight of the upcoming matches was starting to settle in, and the uncertainty of what awaited him was beginning to feel overwhelming.

  Vira flashed him a grin. "This is getting good. You ready for your turn?" Her eyes were glued to the ring below, barely leaving the action.

  Marcus offered her a half-hearted smile, though his mind was elsewhere. The noise of the crowd, the booming announcer's voice, the hum of magic, it all felt distant. His focus was drawn inward, centered on the matches to come. One name—Vealeth—kept cutting through the haze of his thoughts. Could he really be as dangerous as they said? The thought of facing someone with such a reputation made his pulse quicken, but also filled him with a strange thrill. He couldn't help but feel a part of him eager to test his mettle against such an opponent.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, Vealeth’s name echoed through the arena’s loudspeakers, and the crowd’s murmur shifted into a ripple of hushed conversations. Marcus glanced around, his eyes darting over the faces of the other fighters. He saw several exchange wary glances, their expressions serious, as if anticipating something more than just a fight. "That’s Vealeth," one of the spectators whispered. "No one’s lasted more than a minute against him." The words stuck with Marcus, deepening his curiosity. Who was this drake who commanded such respect—and fear?

  The atmosphere shifted instantly as the next fighter entered the arena. Vealeth was a massive drake, his very presence drawing the attention of everyone in the stadium. His sleek, draconic form rippled with muscle beneath scales that gleamed like polished armor, catching the light with every movement. He wielded a massive greatsword, a weapon that seemed almost too large for any human to even lift, let alone use with such deadly grace. Vealeth flourished the weapon with one hand, his every movement fluid and effortless. But it wasn’t just the sheer size and power of the drake that commanded attention—there was something in his eyes, glowing faintly with the unmistakable light of Psycha energy. He was more than just strength; he had control.

  "Begin!" The announcer’s voice boomed, cutting through the tension.

  Like many before him, Roshak charged forward, swinging a massive spiked mace with all the fury of a wild beast. His attack was brutal, driven by raw strength and instinct. Yet Vealeth did not step aside or attempt to block the blow. Instead, he flowed, his body shifting with an elegance that was almost unnatural. It was like watching water move—seamless and effortless, his feet barely disturbing the ground as Roshak’s mace swung harmlessly through the air. This wasn’t just dodging. It felt as though Vealeth was controlling the very space around him, bending the arena’s energy to his will. Marcus could barely believe his eyes.

  Roshak, momentarily thrown off by the missed strike, recovered quickly, roaring in frustration as he charged again. His mace rose high, the weight of the weapon threatening to crush anything in its path. The crowd erupted, a wave of excitement washing over them as they anticipated the blow. Roshak’s massive weapon came crashing down toward Vealeth with bone-crushing force. But once again, Vealeth remained perfectly still, his demeanor calm and unreadable—like a predator waiting for its prey to make the wrong move.

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  Then, everything seemed to change in the air. Vealeth’s eyes flared with Psycha, and Marcus felt a shift—an almost tangible pressure in the air. It was as though the weight of the arena itself was warping. There was a pulse that rippled outward, and suddenly, Roshak’s overwhelming presence didn’t feel so overpowering anymore. Balanced Scales activated.

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed, watching with growing fascination. Balanced Scales wasn’t just an equalizer—it was a reweaving of power itself. Vealeth’s Psycha didn’t simply negate Roshak’s strength; it redistributed it. Strength, speed, endurance—everything about their physical attributes was now being shared between them. It was as though the entire fight had been reshaped from the ground up, balancing the scales in real-time.

  Roshak swung again, but something was off. His movement had slowed—not because he’d lost strength, but because his power had been diluted. It was no longer concentrated in his strikes; instead, it was spread thin across his entire body. Vealeth, on the other hand, had gained a portion of Roshak’s power, and it showed. His natural speed and agility were enhanced, giving him an even sharper edge. The drake moved with an impossible precision, faster, sharper, more fluid than before.

  “That’s… insane,” Marcus muttered under his breath.

  Vira, beside him, was equally entranced by the display. She nodded, eyes wide with awe. “He’s not just controlling power—he’s changing how the fight is fought.”

  Vealeth didn’t waste a moment. With a practiced, fluid motion, he redirected Roshak’s energy. He grabbed the larger fighter’s wrist and twisted it with a speed that defied logic. For a creature of his size, Vealeth’s movements were impossibly fast. His Psycha flowed like an extension of his will, guiding his every move with near-perfect precision.

  Roshak’s eyes widened as his balance faltered, his wrist contorted in a way it wasn’t meant to. His massive body—usually an unstoppable force—seemed to lose coordination, as though the very strength he relied on had been ripped away. Vealeth pressed a hand to Roshak’s chest, reinforcing the equilibrium he had created with his Psycha.

  For a heartbeat, everything seemed still, the arena holding its breath.

  Roshak, enraged, tried to force his way out of the hold, using the full weight of his strength to overpower the drake. But it was futile. The strength he had once relied on was now shared between them—an even, balanced force that didn’t allow for dominance. Vealeth had control, and Roshak’s strength became a limitation.

  With a final, almost effortless twist, Vealeth forced Roshak to his knees. The bear-man crumpled under the weight of his own redistributed power, the crowd gasping in stunned silence. Roshak’s body, so accustomed to overwhelming force, couldn’t handle the redistribution of his abilities.

  In a smooth, practiced motion, Vealeth released Roshak and stepped back, his tail flicking with casual elegance. Roshak collapsed forward, panting, utterly spent. He struggled, trying to rise, but it was hopeless. His power was no longer his to command.

  “Winner—Vealeth!” The announcer’s voice rang out, breaking the silence that had fallen over the crowd. The fight had ended almost as soon as it began, with Vealeth exerting barely any effort. His mastery over Balanced Scales and his control over Psycha had rendered Roshak’s brute strength irrelevant, turning the tide of the fight before Roshak even had a chance to land a blow.

  Marcus clenched his fists, his mind racing. This wasn’t just power—it was understanding. Vealeth didn’t need to overpower his opponents. He made them fight by his rules, bending them to his will, reshaping the very essence of combat.

  Vira leaned over, her eyes gleaming with admiration. “That’s… impressive,” she whispered.

  Marcus, still trying to process what he had just witnessed, felt a weight settle in his chest. He had always thought he understood Psycha, but this… this was something else entirely. Could he ever match that kind of control? Could he fight against someone who wielded their abilities with such precision?

  As Vealeth passed by, his gaze met Marcus’s. The eye contact was brief, but it was enough. A challenge. Unspoken, but clear.

  Marcus held his breath. He knew it now—Vealeth was watching him. And Marcus could feel it. He was next.