Ancestral Lineage
Chapter 323 - 323: Undisputed Strongest First Year (1)

Blazing heat clashed with glinting steel, turning the arena floor into a molten battlefield.

Streams of crimson flame twisted like serpents through the air, crashing against shimmering shields of liquefied metal that hardened instantly into jagged barriers. The stands of the Academy's central dueling coliseum thundered with cheers and gasps, the energy of the crowd rippling like static.

The Metal user—a towering boy with bronze skin and silver veins glowing faintly along his arms—roared, stomping the ground. A volley of gleaming spikes erupted from the floor, sharp enough to pierce stone, hurling straight at his opponent.

But the Fire user didn't flinch.

She stood with one arm extended, fire wreathing her like a cloak of wrath. Her long red hair floated in the heat around her, and her golden eyes shone like miniature suns.

"Ignite."

With a snap of her fingers, the air exploded.

The metal spikes melted mid-air, liquefying before they even reached her. The blast of fire that followed was enormous—an infernal wave that swallowed the arena in a storm of red and gold. The Metal user tried to summon a shield, but the molten metal turned against him, too hot to control.

He dropped to one knee, panting, sweat steaming from his body. Then he collapsed, coughing in the heat.

The crowd fell into a momentary silence—then erupted.

"WINNER: LIARA VALEN!" the magical display roared overhead.

Liara exhaled, her flames dimming as she turned away, not sparing her opponent another glance. Her cloak caught in the breeze of her own magic as she walked off the platform.

Another step closer, she thought. To the top.

Other battles followed, some fierce and poetic in their violence, others ending in anticlimactic collapse—fighters falling unconscious before a victor could be declared. The arena had seen flames, water dragons, stone pillars, illusions, and screams. It had seen blood. Cheers and groans mingled in the air like the energy of a thousand spells waiting to explode.

And then, the air changed.

"NEXT MATCH: LITH VORDEN vs RAYMOND STRIGOL" the magical display announced in glowing script that crackled with fiery runes.

The audience stilled, holding their breath as the names sank in. The duel everyone had been waiting for.

Lith stepped forward from the left tunnel, casual yet calm. His black military-style suit clung to his slim frame, the silver and white designs glinting under the arena lights. The sword-shaped crest on his chest shimmered with subtle power—marking him as a student of the Warrior Division in Alpa. Despite his youthful appearance, his golden eyes held a weight far beyond his age, and his steps made no sound.

Across from him, Raymond emerged from the shadows of the right tunnel. A textbook vampire in many ways—tall, lean, long black hair flowing down to his shoulders, and those classic crimson eyes that gleamed with bloodlust and confidence. His black uniform mirrored Lith's, though his aura was heavier, colder. Fangs glinted as he smirked, already licking his lips in anticipation.

The Warrior Division was a prestigious unit in Alpa, reserved for those who fought on the front lines with blades, strength, and strategic prowess. Unlike the Forgers, who crafted the backbone of the magical world with runes and formations, or the Monks, whose bodies were temples of violence, Warriors trained to command respect through battle.

Mages wielded the mystical. Paladins? They defied classification.

And Lith—he was one of the few whispered about even outside his division. The Fire Tyrant. A rare title for a first-year student. A rare power, too.

"You ready to burn, fire boy?" Raymond called out, voice as smooth as poison.

"I could ask if you're ready to bleed," Lith replied, his voice quiet but sharp.

The magical barrier surrounding the arena shimmered to full strength, locking them in. The cheers grew louder. Students leaned forward, teachers whispered bets, and Tyrants across the tiers of the coliseum took notice.

From the topmost balcony, Vorden crossed his arms, expression unreadable.

"Let's see what you've got, little brother," he muttered under his breath.

A gong echoed—deep, ancient, final.

The duel had begun.

The moment the gong echoed through the arena, Raymond blurred forward—faster than expected, faster than most eyes could follow. Shadows clung to his form like a second skin, elongating unnaturally and pulsing with bloodthirst. A jagged dagger appeared in his hand, crafted of condensed darkness. He swung with lethal intent.

CLANG!

A fiery arm—not Lith's own—rose and caught the blade, sizzling on impact.

The crowd gasped.

Lith stood unmoved, his real arms lowered in a relaxed stance. Above his head, a dark red kite-shaped Artim symbol shimmered into existence, flaming at the edges with vibrant oranges and deep crimsons. The symbol of a skill—his God-Art's activation.

"Fire Fists," he said calmly.

Two additional arms of roaring flame unfurled from his back, their fists clenched and wild like living magma. His original arms ignited seconds later, transforming his entire upper body into a blazing inferno.

"Let's make this quick."

Raymond snarled, flitting backward into a pool of his own shadow. "You talk big—"

"Explode."

The word left Lith's lips like a death sentence.

Instantly, a second Artim appeared, floating above the ground where Raymond had just landed—a kite-shaped sigil of crimson and molten gold, pulsing like a heartbeat. Raymond's eyes widened—

BOOM!!!

A shockwave ripped through the arena, tossing students in the front rows back as the barrier pulsed furiously to absorb the impact. Smoke and ash clouded the center of the battlefield, and the sound echoed for seconds longer, like thunder refusing to die.

Raymond's silhouette stumbled out from the smoke, one side of his uniform scorched, bleeding from his shoulder.

"You… bastard," he hissed. Shadows surged around him again. "Shadow Vines!"

Tendrils of living shadow erupted from beneath the arena tiles, seeking to trap Lith's legs, arms, and throat. They lunged like starving snakes.

But Lith didn't budge.

His flaming arms rotated, one-two, and with a step, he launched forward. The fire around him grew brighter, hotter, turning the very air into steam. He punched forward with both real and flame-born arms—

FOUR FLAMING FISTS.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Each impact detonated with the force of mini-explosions. The shadow vines shriveled into nothing. Raymond barely got his arm up before the final fist struck him square in the chest, sending him flying like a ragdoll across the stage and into the barrier wall.

CRASH!!!

He slumped to the floor—unmoving.

Silence.

Then—cheers.

Roars of applause and disbelief erupted from the stands. Some students stood, hands over their mouths. Others jumped and screamed Lith's name.

In the control booth, Professor Felicia stood with arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "He's grown stronger again... and that wasn't even his full output."

From the upper tiers, Vorden simply smiled.

In the center of the arena, Lith stood alone—his fire fading, the kite-shaped symbols vanishing into smoke. His eyes, still glowing faintly, turned toward Raymond's form and then toward the crowd.

He didn't raise a fist. He didn't smile.

He simply turned and walked off the stage.