Reborn with a Necromancer System
Chapter 141: The Souls of the Arena

Chapter 141: The Souls of the Arena

With the sign-up complete, Kai lingered near the edge of the Forne Coliseum’s practice yard, tucked in the shadows of a crumbling statue of some long-forgotten champion, or possibly even a god.

The yard buzzed with activity even at this hour, trainees sparred, and weapons clashed. There were no bursts of flame or frost lighting up the training pits. No magic that left the fighters’ bodies.

Each strike was a reminder that, despite his power in the shadows, his undead army, the battlefield of the tournament would demand something raw. Brutal. Personal.

’No external magic,’ he reminded himself. ’No summoned skeletons. No shadow magic. Nothing elemental, either. Flight would work if I’d managed to get it to work. Strengthening magic will have to do. Maybe something else if I get creative.’

He scanned the sand-pitted area, sizing up the others who had already enlisted.

A hulking figure slammed a practice hammer into a stone dummy, cracking its chest clean open. The hammer was wooden, yet it split stone like some sort of reinforced steel.

’Is he directly strengthening his weapon? I need to remember that. If I could do that to weapons and armour on top of my sigils, who knows what sort of blow I could take.’

His muscles coiled like braided rope beneath scaled armour.

Rael appeared beside him again, arms crossed. "Sizing up the competition?"

"He seems tough." Kai murmured.

Rael followed Kai’s line of sight.

"Yaron Hallowmane, an enforcer from the southern borderlands, known for crushing opponents with a single blow. No elegance. No flair. Just bone-breaking force. In terms of raw strength, I’ve never seen stronger."

To the side, a cloaked woman danced between poles, her silver blades flashing in dizzying arcs.

’Merri might have a tough time keeping up, but Kael? Kael would win.’

Rael smiled, looking at the air of confidence Kai exhibited.

"Ah, her? Don’t take her lightly. Selise Vantarra, a duel-knife savant and former alleged street assassin turned arena favourite. People thought she was going to win last year."

She moved like wind wrapped in silk, her strikes so fast they left streaks in the air.

"Why didn’t she?" Kai asked, hoping to get some insight into what her weaknesses might be."

"Him," Rael pointed to a man, "she couldn’t even get close to his heat."

Closer to the main arena steps stood, from what Kai could tell, the hottest thing in the citadel. Literally. His hands glowing faintly even without casting.

"Tarnil the Red, flame-touched and arrogant. Fire is in his blood, and I’m not being fancy with my words. A pyromancer who internalised his magic to bypass the external rule. Smart and extremely dangerous. His touch can melt through solid metal."

And then, near the water basins, quietly meditating while others sparred, sat a boy no older than fifteen. His hair was white as bone, his eyes closed, hands resting in his lap. Kai couldn’t place it, but there was something... off. The others gave him a wide berth, and even the ambient mana in the air avoided him.

’You’re not normal,’ Kai thought, eyes narrowing while inspecting the boy. ’What are you hiding?’

Kai nodded. "Some of them seem like they’ll be a problem. But what about that kid?"

"Most are problems. And you noticed, did you? Don’t underestimate the quiet ones," Rael said, glancing at the white-haired boy. "He’s only ever fought once. Crushed his opponent without even standing, let alone moving. But he resigned from last year’s tournament after his first fight."

Kai’s eyes narrowed. "Some sort of telekinetic magic?"

"Definitely not. The ancient wards in the coliseum prevent external magic. Nobody knows how he did it."

Kai looked at his own hands. Almost none of his magic would matter inside the ring. He’d have to reach deeper into what he was, not what his spells could do.

But limiting his options in the heat of combat didn’t scare him.

It excited him.

He turned to Rael. "Thanks."

Rael offered a nod. "You’ll need to train, of course. You’ve got potential, Kai, but potential doesn’t win fights. Grit does."

"That sounds a lot like what you said during our first lesson, old man."

"Brings back memories, hey?"

"It does. Of bruises and scrapes. Of combat."

"Good. But I’m not wrong. You know I always held back with you, right? The most you got from me was about twenty percent of my strength. Sure, you were still a child, and that’s impressive, but you need to at least fight me at eighty percent before you have any hopes of winning."

"You’ll train me, then?"

"That’s my job, Kai. Come in every few days for your lessons, and I’ll remind you just how weak you are."

’Oh, I’m going to show you just how much I’ve changed, old man.’

Kai left the arena and headed back to the Eldridge estate. The citadel was quiet for once. He spotted a few of his wanted posters about, and

The palace walls glinted in the moonlight, tall and gilded with ivy. He walked the outer lane with calm confidence. The guards at the gate to the noble quarter knew him now. A nod from him, a return nod from them. No questions.

The estate itself was serene at night. Lanterns glowed gently along stone paths. Perfumed air drifted from the gardens, where night-roses bloomed in silence. This place was far from the twisted politics of the capital.

A haven. At least for now.

Inside, polished floors and elegant archways guided him past servants who bowed slightly in his direction. Kai returned the gesture. He may have arrived here recently, but he was a tutor to Naia Eldridge, daughter of the estate’s lord, and that gave him standing.

Kai slipped into the attic, lit a lamp, and pulled out his notes. Lesson plans for Naia. Reflections on Vepice’s condition. Details from Rael’s contacts. And now, the tournament. He needed to organise the next four weeks between Mari, Carter, Kleo, the tournament, and everything else inbetween.

’Fuck, it’ll be a tight schedule. All in the name of peace. My peace.’

He poured himself a glass of berry wine he’d taken from the cellars of the estate. With a small burst of ice magic, he chilled the wine, took a sip, and let the weight of the night settle on his shoulders.

This estate might be temporary, but it gave him something he’d lacked with Orlin and at the academy. Sure, he had time to plan in Mirth after Orlin became a raging uncontrollable undead monster, but it was mostly spent training, exploring, and learning.

But at the estate, he had time to think, time to plan, and most of all, time to prepare.