The obsidian gates creaked open, dust rising in swirls as Leon stepped forward alone.
Behind him, Roselia, Roman, Milim, Naval, and Liliana stood at the edge of the arena's inner sanctum, watching in silence. None followed—this was not a battle for many. This was a test of what Leon had become.
The passage beyond the gate was narrower than before, lined with glowing ant-runes pulsing with warning. This part of the temple was not meant for the weak. Even the walls felt sentient, whispering tales of past challengers who'd failed to pass this point.
As Leon entered the chamber, the ground shifted. The floor was black crystal, transparent enough that one could see a flowing river of molten gold beneath, churning and alive.
A voice echoed.
"Rank 49 Arena: Throne of Echoes"
From the far end, a figure emerged.
