The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 21

*Clang.*

The thick, heavy chains slammed onto the earth, the sharp, ringing impact snapping the crowd out of their daze.

The surrounding area plunged into a hushed silence; even the many Initiates sparring on the arena stages paused their duels, turning their gazes toward the disturbance.

Had he really just swung a three-hundred-pound iron chain like it was a piece of hemp rope?

Had that split-second burst of kinetic force directly blasted back a cultivator at Phase Five of the Spirit Warrior Tier?

Unbelievable.

"He actually whipped him! That madman is getting more feral by the day."

"Same as always. He's got a ruthless streak bred into his bones and has never learned how to bow his head."

"I just don't get it. With that iron-headed temper of his, how is he still breathing? If it were anyone else, they would have been killed ten times over by now."

"You think he hasn't taken a beating? How many times has he been left in a pool of his own blood? But the bastard refuses to die. He just keeps living, and he never yields."

"He's nothing but a Servitor, yet he carries himself like a highborn lord. You have to admit, it's a rare talent."

"He *was* a lordling. That's what you call a bred-in attitude! It's a damn shame. If he wasn't carrying the brand of a Thrall, he might have genuinely been taken in as a Prime Initiate."

"No Elder is ever going to take him on. He harbors too much resentment toward The Azure Sky Sanctum."

"If you ask me, the kid is a ticking time bomb. Whatever you do, don't let him gain a foothold, or there will be hell to pay."

The surrounding Initiates had grown accustomed to this sight. In the past, they often watched Kaelen engage in brutal, life-and-death brawls with Lower Initiates. Now that he had reached the Spirit Warrior Tier, he was stepping up to confront Upper Initiates. It was entirely expected, though no one anticipated his strikes to remain just as lethal. He hadn't changed a bit.

Kaelen ignored their whispering. He dragged both heavy iron chains fully onto the arena grounds, hoisted the massive stone vat onto his shoulder, and walked away.

With the spectacle over, the Initiates on and below the stages lost interest and returned to their respective grueling routines.

Just then, Kaelen noticed a strikingly handsome youth approaching from the far end of the sparring grounds. *Ah. He's here.*

The other Initiates caught sight of him as well.

"Look, look! Is that Maelor? Maelor is out of seclusion!"

"Ahhh! Lord Maelor, I love you!"

"It really is him. He's been in seclusion for three months and finally emerged... Could he have broken through to Phase Seven?"

"Fifteen years old and already at Phase Seven of the Spirit Warrior Tier. That kind of talent is enough to make anyone sick with envy."

The newcomer instantly became the center of attention. Amidst the shrieks of infatuated female Initiates, a crowd of men and women surged toward him, transforming the arena's atmosphere into a roaring spectacle.

Kaelen set down his stone vat and stared.

The youth possessed an aristocratic, almost predatory beauty. A roguish smirk played on his lips, and even his thick brows seemed to curve with a perpetual, gentle amusement. His pale skin sharply contrasted with his faintly tinted lips, framing flawless features. Whenever he smiled, two pronounced canines peeked through, injecting a streak of wild rebellion into his sunlit charm.

Maelor, known to many as The Thunderbolt!

He was one of the Prime Initiates of The Azure Sky Sanctum. Handpicked by the Grand Elder at the age of ten, he had been subjected to the most intense, resource-heavy cultivation regime. In terms of raw talent, he ranked near the absolute pinnacle of his generation.

His Aether manifestation was identical to Kaelen's—lightning. The martial codex he cultivated was personally selected for him by the Grand Elder: *Verdict of True Thunder*, a High-tier Spirit Art boasting an excessively domineering, destructive output.

"It’s been far too long, my fellow Initiates," Maelor greeted the crowd with effortless charisma, his smile deepening whenever he caught the gaze of an admiring young woman.

"Senior Maelor, have you broken through to Phase Seven?" a curvaceous female Initiate pressed close to him, her eyes practically shining with adoration.

"I achieved the breakthrough ten days ago. I lingered by my Master’s side to receive some final teachings and only emerged today."

Maelor’s confirmation drew a chorus of gasps and a fresh wave of adulation.

Naturally, there were those standing on the periphery, grinning with sheer envy. Fifteen years old and at Phase Seven—a Prime Initiate indeed.

"My joints are stiff. Who has the courage to spar with me today?" After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Maelor strode onto the arena and threw a challenge to the entire courtyard.

There were plenty of Phase Seven, and even Phase Eight, Initiates present, though all were several years his senior.

Just as they were itching to step up, Maelor added casually: "If no Phase Seven has the spine to step up, a Phase Eight will do."

The arrogance was palpable. He clearly didn't view any of his Phase Seven peers as legitimate threats.

A few Phase Seven Initiates frowned, yet none dared to voice a challenge. The martial art Maelor practiced was leagues beyond their own. Even though he had only just reached the tier, his raw combat output would easily eclipse theirs.

"Borin, crush him! Show him what the rank-and-file are made of!"

"Borin, The Unfettered Blade himself! Ha, this is going to be brilliant!"

"Borin has been at Phase Seven for a year. Word is he's on the brink of Phase Eight."

"Don't get careless, Maelor!"

The spectators roared, cheering wildly for both combatants.

Kaelen observed from afar, in no rush to leave. He was here to study the *Verdict of True Thunder*, an art he had envied countless times.

Cheers crashed like a tidal wave around the arena as Borin charged Maelor like a frenzied beast. A violent gale of Aether erupted from his body, tearing up the stone tiles and whipping the arena into a localized sandstorm. The sheer presence he commanded was suffocating.

"Raaagh!" Borin roared as he launched himself off the ground. Gripping his greatsword with both hands, he channeled a localized hurricane into the blade and brought it crashing down toward Maelor’s skull. The raw, savage power of the strike drove the audience into a frenzy.

Maelor didn’t retreat. Instead, he advanced. Stomping the ground, he vaulted into the air, swinging a bare fist right into the path of the descending greatsword. Arcs of wild lightning surged from his body, coalescing around his knuckles to form an ultra-dense Aether gauntlet that perfectly shielded his hand.

Kaelen’s eyes lit up. *He actually condensed raw lightning into an Aether gauntlet?* Kaelen had attempted that precise manipulation hundreds of times and failed. It required not just microscopic Aether control, but a highly specific energetic channeling technique.

*BOOM!*

A thunderous shockwave detonated in mid-air. Maelor and Borin were both repelled, landing heavily and skidding five paces back.

An even match?

"Borin, nicely done! Beautiful!"

"Maelor, obliterate him! Break him!"

The sheer brutality of the arena match had the crowd whipped into a frenzy.

"Now this is entertaining." Maelor rolled his shoulders and charged at Borin with a booming laugh.

Borin remained silent, gritting his teeth as he met the charge head-on.

Rubble flew, shockwaves thundered, and blinding lightning tore across the arena. Both fighters utilized wide, devastating sweeping attacks, locking themselves in a dead heat.