SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 109: Battle (3)

Lucen didn’t say anything.

He didn’t raise his hands, didn’t turn to the crowd, didn’t even glance toward the ref glyph that had started blinking faint yellow on the far wall. He just stood there, breath steady, shoulders still loose. Watching.

Rikta lay on his side near the arena edge. One arm bent under him, the other outstretched toward his sword like he wanted to reach it but couldn’t remember how to move.

He was still breathing.

But something was off.

Lucen felt it before he saw it.

A pulse.

Not mana from the environment. Not feedback from a delayed glyph. Something internal.

Then he heard the sound, wet and fast, like steam shoved through blood.

Rikta twitched.

His back arched once, legs kicking slightly against the stone. The sword didn’t move.

Lucen narrowed his eyes. Didn’t step forward.

The crowd noise dipped for a second. Just a second.

Then came the scream.

Rikta’s, but not like before.

No rage. No frustration.

Just pain.

Sharp. Animal.

Lucen’s system flickered at the edge of his vision.

[Warning: Foreign mana surge detected]

[Caster signature: unstable]

[Caution: Body limit breached]

Rikta’s arms slammed against the ground as he pushed himself upright, his body shaking, muscles twitching like overcharged wires.

His veins glowed.

Not metaphorically.

Visibly.

Red threads lit under his skin from shoulder to forearm, spiraling around his throat, even up behind his ears. Mana wasn’t flowing. It was boiling inside him.

Lucen’s eyes locked on his hands.

They were clenched, trembling, blood now visible along the fingertips where nails had split from gripping too tight.

"Stop the match," Lucen said, not yelling, but clear.

The ref glyph flickered again. Yellow, then red. But no one entered. No caster drone swooped down. No shields dropped.

The cage was still sealed.

Rikta stood fully now. Panting. Chest heaving like every breath hurt to take.

His voice cracked. "You don’t get to walk out."

Lucen didn’t answer.

"You don’t leave here acting like you beat me."

Lucen tilted his head. "You’re bleeding from your ears."

"I’ll kill you."

"You probably won’t."

Rikta lunged.

Not fast, wild. Arms wide, blade forgotten. His sword lay on the floor, still glowing faintly. He didn’t even look at it.

Lucen stepped once to the side.

Not dodging.

Just shifting enough.

Rikta passed him like a truck with no brakes.

Lucen whispered [Threadmask] as he moved.

The image split left again. The real Lucen stepped right.

Rikta struck the image, his fists flaring with overdrawn mana, and the image popped like mist.

He screamed again.

Not from impact.

From everything.

Lucen spun back toward him.

Rikta dropped to one knee. His hands slammed into the stone floor hard enough to crack a small plate beneath him. Blood hit the arena tile, fast, wet, loud.

Lucen paused.

Not out of pity.

Just recalculating.

’It’s not just an enhancer. That thing’s feeding off his mana. Like a loop. Burn and replenish. That’s why it looks unstable.’

He stepped closer. freёweɓnovel_com

Rikta looked up.

Red streaks in his eyes. Not metaphor. Literal blood. His sclera had gone pink. His face was pale.

Lucen crouched just outside strike range.

"I can end this," he said, voice flat. "Right now. Clean. Or you can keep throwing yourself at me until your organs tap out."

Rikta shook his head.

"I can’t lose."

Lucen sighed through his nose. "You already did."

"No. Not to you. Not to some nobody backup-class with clever glyphs."

Lucen leaned forward.

"Then swing."

Rikta did.

Sloppy. Arcing wide.

Lucen stepped inside, caught the wrist mid-strike, and drove his elbow into Rikta’s jaw.

The crack echoed through the arena like a snapped plank.

Rikta dropped like the lights had gone out.

For half a second, silence.

Then the crowd started screaming again.

Lucen stepped back, glanced toward the ref glyph. Still red.

Finally, a side door hissed open. Two officials stepped in, late. One healer behind them, gloves already glowing.

Lucen didn’t look at them.

He turned away.

Started walking toward the tunnel.

Behind him, someone shouted his name. Not a ref. Not the announcers.

A fan.

Lucen ignored it.

The system pinged.

[EXP Gained: 228]

[Bonus: +32 (Arena Victory)]

[Current Level: 20]

[EXP: 260 / 900]

He reached the tunnel entrance.

Still walking. Not running. Not celebrating.

Just muttered under his breath.

’He’s gonna feel that elbow for a week.’

—

The moment Lucen stepped past the glyph wall, the crowd pressure hit harder than the fight ever did.

Noise. Real noise. Not the clean, engineered kind pumped through a mana-loop for hype. This was raw.

Organic. Echoing off stone and synth-wood panels, every shout colliding into the next like a hallway full of crashing doors.

The whole left side of the viewing deck was on their feet. Some holding up devices. Others just yelling because everyone else was.

Lucen kept walking.

Didn’t wave. Didn’t glance up.

He let the sounds pass over him like weather.

"...what the hell was that cast sequence—"

"—man got folded by a support?!"

"He dropped him with a shoulder and a mine like—boom—dead!"

Someone up front slammed both palms on the barrier, laughing through their teeth. "That kick! That kick was filthy!"

Lucen pulled his hood up again.

It didn’t help.

The stream delay must’ve ended, because now the crowd had a name for him. Not a title. Not a guild-tag.

Just a word.

"Ghostweave!"

He heard it once, right side. Higher up.

Then again. Left tier. Louder.

Then it spread.

"Yo, Ghostweave!"

"Bro’s name’s not even listed—how the hell’d he cast like that?!"

"Did you see that fake cast he baited the jump with?! I blinked and the other guy was on the floor!"

Lucen walked into the tunnel.

’Ghostweave? That’s what we’re doing now?’

He didn’t smile.

But his mouth twitched once. A little.

’Better than Spark Daddy, I guess.’

Another shout echoed from behind.

"Yo! Support guy! You got merch yet?!"

Lucen stopped for half a second. Not long. Just enough to throw a look over his shoulder.

"Make your own," he said flatly.

Then kept walking.

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