Chapter 28: Blood Armament

Weapons began dropping in a torrent, dozens of them plunging down like spears from the heavens. The air trembled as each one descended with enough force to embed into stone. Noah’s eyes widened, his heart slamming against his chest as he stared at the falling weapons. For a split second, his breath caught. ’This is it,’ he thought. ’My moment. My trigger.’ He could feel it. That desperation to survive. The very instincts that fueled Overdrive, crawling and tightening in his chest. Then, something changed. His pulse roared in his ears, and time slowed. Not by much, but just enough. Just enough for it to kick in. His eyes blurred, and in the next instant, he could see them. His eyes had zoomed in on them for him to analyze. The weapons weren’t random. There were gaps, narrow, shifting gaps in the storm of blades. A way out. His body moved before his thoughts could catch up. He spun sideways as a spear thudded into the stone where he’d been. He twisted low, flipping over the edge of a blade as it carved a shallow groove into the arena floor. The wind screamed past his ears, the ground cracking beneath him. Noah moved like a shadow, slipping between falling axes, diving through tight spaces where a second slower would have killed him. His reflexes, already sharp, now burned with new fire. A dagger grazed his shoulder, but he ignored it. A blood sword nearly skewered his leg. He leapt over it. Every step, every roll, every leap was exact. Every movement was for his survival. In the stands, jaws dropped. No one spoke. No one blinked. They couldn’t. Then it ended. The rain stopped. The final weapon slammed into the sand and vanished into smoke. Silence. All around Noah, the arena floor was cracked and broken. Blood weapons had cratered the ground, turning it into a jagged field of ruin. But Noah stood tall in the middle of it all. Untouched. Breathing hard. Shoulders rising and falling. Blood staining his sleeve. The entire arena seemed frozen in disbelief. Then the whispers began. "He survived it?" "He dodged Blood Armament..." "That’s not possible. That’s an A-rank skill!" "I saw it. I saw him move through it!" Noah looked down at his hands. They trembled, not from pain or exhaustion, but from something else entirely. Disappointment. He clenched them slowly into fists, feeling the raw ache in his joints, the faint sting from the shallow cuts Ben’s claws had left on his arms. But that wasn’t what occupied his thoughts. It was what hadn’t happened. The roar in his chest, the boiling surge of something deeper, darker, more powerful, it had come so close. Just beneath his skin, it had swelled like a wave, ready to crash. For one breathless moment, he had felt it. A shiver in the core of his being. His instincts had flared, his heart had pounded like a drum. But then... His eyes had shifted. His dragon eyes. They’d pierced the storm of blood raining down and shown him a path. Gaps. Openings. A way to survive. A way out. And when he’d seen it, hope had replaced desperation. And the moment passed. The storm inside him had settled. That power, whatever it was, had receded back into the depths, as if it had never been there to begin with. ’Just when I was close,’ he thought bitterly. ’Just when I was on the edge.’ He exhaled, shaking his head. Ben just wasn’t powerful enough. The fight had been loud. Painful. Brutal. But it hadn’t been deadly. There had been fear, yes. But not the kind that reached deep enough to crack his soul open. Not the kind that truly threatened to end everything. ’He wasn’t strong enough to trigger it.’ Noah realized. ’He never was.’ Noah looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd. He saw Arlo, standing with his arms crossed and a huge smile on his face. Then he looked at Ben. Ben stood at the far end of the arena, eyes wide, disbelief etched into his face. His fists were clenched, blood dripping from one palm where a nail had cut into it. Noah scoffed softly at the sight. Ben Stanley, with all his posturing, his S-rank potential, his Gold-tier status, was still just a boy playing at power. Not a monster. Not a killer. Not enough. Noah’s fingers flexed again. If he wanted to awaken a new skill, if he wanted to break through to Overdrive... He’d need something more. A true threat. Real danger. The kind that didn’t come with a crowd and rules and bets. But for now, he’d settle this. He raised his head, fire glinting in his eyes. The fight wasn’t over. And even without Overdrive, he still had enough to make Ben regret everything. Suddenly, Ben sank to one knee, coughing hard. A thick splatter of blood hit the arena floor from his mouth. He gasped for air, his chest heaving. His arms trembled. His claws, once jagged and fierce, wavered with each breath, then slowly broke apart, fading into red mist that scattered on the wind. This was the backlash for holding the A-rank skill for too long with an FFF-rank body. Noah began to walk toward him. One slow step at a time. His boots echoed across the torn stone of the arena, each step loud in the stunned silence that followed the spectacle. Ben tried to rise, but his other knee buckled. He coughed again, another burst of blood dripping down his chin. Noah stopped a few feet away, watching him. "Is that it?" He said, his voice cold. "That was your big, mighty A-rank skill?" Ben didn’t answer. His eyes were dazed, half-focused. His hands pressed against the floor, trying to push himself up. His whole body trembled from the strain. Noah’s lips curled into a faint smile, not from joy, but something darker. "Pathetic." He crouched slightly, tilting his head. "You can’t even use your own skill without breaking apart." Ben winced, looking up at him, his breath shallow. "You’ve had everything handed to you, haven’t you?" Noah said, his voice steady and low. "All the praise. All the attention. You lived in the light while the rest of us were buried in the dirt." He stood straight again, his eyes narrowing. "And you still couldn’t manage a proper fight." Ben’s fingers clawed against the stone, trying again to stand. Noah’s voice hardened. "Don’t crawl. Get up." Ben froze. "Get. Up." Noah said again. "You’re not done paying." Ben’s lips twisted in frustration. Rage. Fear. But he still couldn’t move fast enough. His body refused to respond. Noah took another step forward, his shadow stretching over Ben. "You’ve mocked me since the first day at Clarkson." He said. "You humiliated me. Pushed me. Sent others to beat me. Thought you’d always stay on top." He paused, letting the moment stretch. "But now? You’re nothing. Just a broken brat with no more cards to play." Noah raised a hand, beckoning him. "So stand up, Ben Stanley. Stand up and face the consequences."