Silence fell over the battlefield.
The moment Aetheron had Devoured Xeran's ability, the air shifted. The spectators, once roaring in excitement, now sat in stunned disbelief. Even the announcer hesitated, as if struggling to comprehend what had just occurred.
Someone had stolen a Void Dominion wielder's power.
Impossible.
Yet, there Aetheron stood, the darkness of the void curling around his fingers like a living entity, shifting, adapting—obeying him.
Xeran collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged. He clutched his chest as if trying to hold on to something intangible. The void energy that had once been his birthright was gone.
"You… you took it," he gasped, eyes wild with fear. "You stole my power…"
Aetheron stepped forward, tilting his head slightly. "I didn't steal it," he said, his voice low, almost contemplative. He flexed his fingers, feeling the void pulse through his veins, molding itself to his will. "I claimed it."
A murmur rippled through the remaining competitors. Some took a step back, their instincts warning them of the unnatural presence now surrounding Aetheron. Others stared at him with newfound wariness.
"Stop the match!" one of the noble participants shouted. "That's not an ability a commoner should have!"
The announcer hesitated, glancing at the tournament overseers seated in the grand viewing platform. Among them were noble heads, high-ranking warriors, and the Archmagus of Erindale himself.
But before the overseers could speak, a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the arena.
"Well, well. What an unexpected turn of events."
A man clad in dark robes stood from the VIP section. His eyes gleamed with intrigue, his expression unreadable. Lord Vaelmont, head of the House of Shadows—one of the ruling powers of the kingdom.
"This tournament is a test of strength," Vaelmont continued. "And what could be more powerful than a warrior who can… adapt?"
The implication was clear. Aetheron had displayed dominance in a way no other competitor had.
The overseers exchanged glances before the eldest among them, the Archmagus himself, raised a hand. His golden eyes bore into Aetheron as if peering into his very soul.
"The match will continue," he decreed. "Aetheron remains a competitor."
The decision sent shockwaves through the crowd. Some cheered, eager to see more of this anomaly. Others whispered in concern. But the ruling had been made.
Aetheron exhaled slowly. He had expected resistance, but for now, he was safe.
Now, he had to decide what to do next.
The Aftermath
Back in the preparation chambers, Aetheron leaned against the stone wall, feeling the remnants of void energy swirl inside him. It was different from how Xeran wielded it.
For Xeran, Void Dominion had been absolute—it erased anything it touched. But Aetheron's version felt… adaptable. He could feel its hunger, its potential to evolve.
The door creaked open.
Aetheron tensed, expecting a challenger, but instead, a hooded figure entered. A young woman, her piercing emerald eyes scanning him with curiosity.
"You're lucky they didn't disqualify you," she said. Her voice was smooth, confident.
"Depends on how you define luck," Aetheron replied, watching her carefully.
She smirked. "You don't know what you just did, do you?"
Aetheron narrowed his eyes. "Enlighten me."
She stepped closer. "You revealed yourself."
Something in her tone made his muscles tighten.
"You're not the only one with a forbidden ability," she murmured. "And now? Every hidden power in this kingdom will either want to recruit you… or erase you."
Aetheron exhaled, a slow grin with authority and says.
"Let them try".