Ultimate Dragon System: Grinding my way to the Top-Chapter 214: Ken vs Plistus

The arena floor was wider than it looked from the doorway.

Ken noticed that the moment he stepped through. More ground to cover. More distance between them at the start, which meant whoever closed it first was making a decision—not just moving, but committing to a read before either of them had shown anything yet.

Plistus was already on the other side.

He was built heavier than Ken. Broader through the shoulders, lower center of gravity, the kind of frame that absorbed damage without redistributing it. His stance was open, arms loose at his sides, like someone who wasn’t worried about the first hit.

Ken filed that away.

Ken rolled his neck once and studied the space between them. The arena had no fixed overhead source—the illumination came from panels along the walls, flat and even, which meant his shadow didn’t pull in one clean line. It spread beneath him in multiple directions. That was either a problem or a tool. He decided it was a tool before the thought had finished forming.

The signal came without announcement—just a tone, flat and brief, and then it was live.

Neither of them moved for a full second.

Then Plistus exhaled—and the sound that came out wasn’t an exhale. It was something compressed, directed, a concentrated pulse of force that crossed the distance between them faster than a step. It hit Ken in the chest like a flat hand and pushed him back two feet before he’d processed what had happened.

He found his footing.

Stood.

So that was it. Sound. Vibration. The kind of ability that didn’t require closing distance to do damage—Plistus could work from range and still reach him. Ken already understood why the bracket had put them together. This pairing wasn’t accidental. Olmo had known exactly what kind of problem Ken would be walking into.

He pulled the shadow.

It responded immediately—rising from the ground beneath him, thickening along his arms, wrapping his forearms and hands in a layer of dense dark matter that moved when he moved and held its shape when he held still. He shaped it forward, extending one arm and letting the shadow stretch out ahead of him into a flat panel—wide, solid, angled slightly to deflect rather than absorb directly.

Plistus fired again.

The pulse hit the shadow shield and fractured it.

Not completely. But enough that the edges cracked and the center thinned, and Ken felt the residual vibration travel up through the construct and into his arm like a struck bell. He pulled the shadow back before it could collapse entirely, reformed it tighter, closer to his body, and reassessed.

Straight shielding wasn’t going to work.

Plistus had figured that out before Ken had. The vibration didn’t just push—it disrupted the cohesion of whatever it touched. Solid forms held together by force broke apart under sustained pulses. Which meant any shadow construct large enough to be useful as a shield was also large enough to become a liability when Plistus hit it with enough frequency.

Ken moved.

He closed the distance at an angle—not straight in, diagonal, cutting across the open space between them in a line that forced Plistus to track and recalibrate. Plistus turned and fired. The pulse clipped Ken’s shoulder. He felt it travel through the bone and kept moving, pulling the shadow up around his torso like a coat, layered and close, not a wall but a skin. Distributed. Harder to fracture when there was no single concentrated point to break.

Plistus stepped back.

He was recalibrating too.

Good.

Ken reached him and threw the first strike—a direct shot to the ribs, shadow-wrapped fist landing with the combined weight of his arm and the dense matter coiled around it. Plistus took it and grunted. Didn’t go down. Fired a pulse at close range—this one worse, directed upward into Ken’s jaw, and the world tilted sideways for half a second before Ken’s feet remembered where the floor was.

He stepped back. Shook his head once.

The close range game was mutual damage. Neither of them was clean in there.

Ken shifted approach.

He let the shadow pool on the ground instead of wearing it. Extended it outward across the arena floor in a slow spread—thin, dark, barely visible against the surface, moving like spilled ink in all directions from where he stood. Plistus watched it and fired a pulse downward. The sound wave hit the pooled shadow and disrupted a section of it, breaking the surface into fragments that dissolved.

But the rest kept spreading.

Plistus fired again. Another section dissolved. But he was spending pulses on the floor now, not on Ken, and Ken was moving while he did it—circling, repositioning, letting the shadow on the ground continue its spread while he rebuilt the layered coat on his body and closed the distance from a new angle.

Plistus caught on too late.

The shadow on the ground rose behind him—Ken pulling it upward from the other side, forming a wall at Plistus’s back before he could step away from it. Not a cage. Just a wall. One hard surface behind him that removed the retreat option at exactly the wrong moment.

Ken came in from the front.

Plistus fired. The pulse hit Ken square and stopped him for a step—but only one step. The shadow coat distributed most of it. Ken felt the vibration through his whole chest and walked through the last of the distance anyway, throwing a combination that Plistus couldn’t fully answer while he was tracking the shadow at his back.

First hit landed to the body.

Second hit landed to the shoulder.

Plistus tried to reposition left. The shadow wall extended that direction—Ken adjusting in real time, cutting the angle off, keeping Plistus in the pocket.

A third pulse. Weaker this time. Either Plistus was tiring or the rapid succession was costing him something in terms of output.

Ken recognized the dip.

He pulled the shadow off his arms entirely and reformed it in front of him—a single dense shape, compacted, not wide but thick, a column of mass that he drove forward with both hands behind it like a battering ram. Plistus raised his arms and fired a pulse directly into it.

The shadow fractured down the middle.

But the halves still hit him.

Both sides of the split construct caught Plistus across the shoulders and drove him back into the wall behind him. He hit it and the wall gave—shadow dispersing on impact—but the momentum was already done. Plistus hit the ground on one knee. Tried to get up.

His arm shook.

He stayed down.

The call came.

Ken exhaled. He let the remaining shadow sink back to the floor, spreading thin and then dissolving entirely, returning to nothing more than the natural dark outline that followed him everywhere. He rolled his jaw once—where the close-range pulse had connected—and felt the ache of it settle in without going anywhere.

He’d carry that for a while. The close quarters had cost him more than he’d intended to spend. Worth it. But not clean.

He turned and walked back toward the door without looking at anyone.

First match done. One name advanced.

His.