The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 22

Kaelen stood atop the stone vat, scrutinizing Maelor's combat style.

With a deafening crack, Maelor forcefully deflected Borin's greatsword. Simultaneously, the lightning coating his body detached in unison, firing hundreds of concentrated Aether needles directly into Borin. The crowd gasped.

Borin cried out in pain, staggering back over a dozen paces. His skin split open in multiple places, his flesh burning and his nerves completely paralyzed.

Maelor seized the opening, pressing his assault with over a dozen rapid-fire lightning strikes that systematically dismantled Borin's defense.

"Yes! Excellent!" The crowd roared in exultation.

Kaelen unconsciously clenched his fists in admiration. Martial arts were static; it was the wielder who brought them to life. The same codex in different hands yielded entirely different lethality. Judging purely by the fluid mastery with which Maelor executed the *Verdict of True Thunder*, he absolutely lived up to the title of Prime Initiate. The Grand Elder had clearly poured an immense amount of effort into him.

But just then, Borin launched a desperate counterattack. In a sheer defiance of physics, his greatsword tore through Maelor's guard and carved directly across his torso. The sudden reversal left the crowd gasping for air, many failing to even process what had just happened.

Maelor narrowly evaded a fatal blow, but the blade still tore his tunic open, leaving a stark, crimson gash across his chest. It wasn't deep, but blood bubbled from the wound. Maelor froze, stunned. He had victory firmly in his grasp and was preparing to deliver the finishing blow—only to be nicked by a desperate peasant?

The bleeding gash stood out glaringly against his pale skin.

Maelor reached up, swiping two fingers through his own blood. He brought the crimson to his lips, sucking on it lightly as a cruel, twisted arc formed on his mouth.

"I yield!" Borin smartly lowered his blade, fully acknowledging the vast gap between his power and Maelor's.

"Yield? I haven't even begun to enjoy myself. We've barely drawn first blood." Maelor's expression darkened into something entirely sinister as he lunged toward Borin.

Borin’s brow furrowed, but he refused to retreat. Taking a deep breath, he swung his heavy blade up to meet the charge.

"Borin is a dead man," Kaelen muttered to himself.

"Hey! Peasant, what are you staring at?" A cold sneer barked from behind him.

Kaelen glanced over his shoulder. Several young Initiates were sauntering up the stone steps.

They had just arrived, lured by rumors of a good show. But the moment they reached the summit, they spotted Kaelen standing on his stone vat, fully engrossed in the fight.

Kaelen ignored them, turning his gaze back to the spectacular duel in the arena.

"Are you deaf, you pathetic worm?" the lead youth spat arrogantly.

These were Middle Initiates who had made a habit of tormenting Kaelen in the past.

"Am I blocking your view?" Kaelen shot them a sidelong glance.

"Hah! You've grown some spine. You think hitting Phase Three of the Spirit Warrior Tier makes you a warlord?"

"My spine's always been perfectly fine. Breaking you takes zero effort," Kaelen sneered. Two years ago, before he had even condensed his Aether Core, he had relied purely on brute strength to beat these exact Initiates—who were Phase One at the time—into the dirt. He had beaten them so badly they hadn't dared show their faces for half a year. Now, two years later, they had managed to crawl their way up to Phase Three.

His words hit a raw nerve.

"We were merely at Phase One back then, barely practiced in our martial arts. We've mastered our codices now. We aren't the same prey you hunted before."

"Your freakish brute strength doesn't scare us anymore."

"We've been looking for you lately, and you hand-delivered yourself right to us."

The humiliating memories ignited their fury. The five of them immediately spread out, encircling Kaelen, fully intending to humiliate him in front of the entire courtyard.

A pretty girl standing nearby scoffed at them. "Don't dig your own graves. Garrick Thorne just got floored by Kaelen in two punches and rolled from the path you just walked up all the way to the bottom of the mountain. You lot? Go play in the dirt."

"Are you joking?" The five of them frowned deeply, their aggressive aura instantly deflating.

"Do I look like I'm joking? You're completely out of your league." The girl, who possessed an undeniable allure, couldn't be bothered with them anymore and turned back to watch the arena.

"Stop making a fool of yourselves and piss off," another spectator snapped. They were entirely captivated by the arena duel and had no patience for distractions.

The five Initiates exchanged nervous glances. Kaelen sent Garrick packing? If memory served, Garrick was at Phase Five. Surely it was just someone who shared his name?

Seeing them hesitate, Kaelen ignored them and refocused on the arena.

The battle on the stage was taking a lethal turn.

Borin tried to surrender multiple times, genuinely pushed to his physical limit. Yet Maelor refused to relent, ruthlessly backing him into a corner.

With a booming crash, a violent burst of lightning blasted Borin backward. He staggered more than a dozen paces, barely keeping his balance at the edge of the arena.

"Must have a lot of free time lately, coming all the way to the sparring grounds to enjoy a show?" Maelor chuckled, stepping off the arena as the crowd instinctively parted to give him a wide berth.

"I'm just making a delivery." Kaelen sighed internally. He wasn't getting away easily.

"No need to be so tense. I'm not going to report you for sneaking a peek at our duels. I heard you hit Phase Three. I'm truly thrilled for you."

"Your concern is touching."

"I'm immensely curious, though. How did you manage it? Word is you haven't mastered a single martial codex and haven't ingested a single Aether herb."

"That's none of your concern, is it?" Kaelen knew exactly what kind of predator Maelor was. This was a textbook provocation.

"Watch your tone, peasant! Show some respect!" The four Initiates barked, only to choke on their words the moment Kaelen shot them a single, icy glare.

The surrounding crowd collectively thought, *This is going to end badly.* Maelor suddenly taking an interest in Kaelen meant nothing but absolute misery for the boy.

Maelor maintained his radiant, aristocratic smile. "Our dear Lordling Kaelen hasn't ever stepped onto a proper arena, has he? Come, stand on the stage. Feel the stone beneath your boots. Don't worry—if anyone raises a fuss, I'll shoulder the blame. No one will penalize you."

"I'll pass. Maybe another day. I still have deliveries to make." Kaelen hoisted the stone vat and moved to leave.

Maelor’s entourage snickered and blocked his path. "I strongly suggest you step onto the stage."

Kaelen shook his head with a faint smile. "A distinguished Prime Initiate like yourself has no reason to harass a mere delivery boy."

"Don't be so defensive. I bear absolutely no ill will. I merely wish to exchange pointers and see exactly what kind of combat power a Phase Three possesses. We're the same age—both fifteen—but my realm is slightly higher. If you don't mind, I could bestow some guidance upon you. What do you say? It's a rare privilege," Maelor offered, his eyes locked onto Kaelen, brimming with feigned warmth.

Everyone present could read the blatant subtext. Maelor was using the facade of a 'friendly spar' to legally brutalize Kaelen. A Phase Seven Prime Initiate challenging a Phase Three without a martial codex was nothing short of a slaughter. Kaelen's physical strength was monstrous, but surviving against a Phase Four should be his absolute limit. The only reason he dropped Garrick so easily was because the man was already heavily injured and wildly arrogant.

The crowd held its breath, waiting for Kaelen's response.

Someone couldn't stomach it anymore. "Maelor, don't cross the line. You're Phase Seven, and he's Phase Three. He doesn't even have an art to defend himself."

Maelor shot a venomous glare into the crowd. "Mind your tongue. Do not attempt to sow discord between myself and Lordling Kaelen. This is a mutually beneficial exchange of martial insights."

*Insights, my ass!* the man cursed inwardly, but wisely kept his mouth shut.