The void was calm again.

  Not the heavy calm that followed destruction.

  This was a quieter stillness — the kind that came after something had been settled.

  Caelis stood alone on the empty training plane, staring at his arm.

  Two rings now rotated slowly around his right forearm.

  The First Ring glowed deep blue, steady and familiar.

  Above it, the Second Ring shone brighter — thinner in shape but far more refined. Its rotation was slower, smoother, like a mechanism that had finally found its rhythm.

  Caelis flexed his fingers.

  Energy responded immediately.

  Not violently.

  Not chaotically.

  It flowed.

  A faint blue aura formed around his body, thin but incredibly dense. It did not flare wildly like before. It clung to him like a controlled current.

  He closed his hand.

  The aura vanished.

  “Better,” the Guardian said behind him.

  Caelis didn’t turn.

  “I feel different.”

  “You are,” the Guardian replied. “The second ring stabilizes the first. Your energy now obeys you instead of erupting through you.”

  Caelis finally looked back.

  “How much stronger am I?”

  The Guardian considered the question.

  “Enough that the demon from before would not push you to desperation again.”

  Caelis nodded slowly.

  “But,” the Guardian continued, “not enough to assume victory against what comes next.”

  That part did not surprise him.

  Caelis had already learned that the gap between strength levels in this world could be vast.

  Silence settled between them for a moment.

  Then the Guardian turned and began walking across the void.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “It is time you fought someone who does not care about your rings.”

  Caelis followed.

  “What does that mean?”

  “There are fighters in this world,” the Guardian said, “who built their strength without divine fragments. No rings. No inherited power. Only discipline.”

  They stopped near the edge of the void.

  Space there shimmered faintly — a thin distortion like heat above stone.

  “A tournament is approaching,” the Guardian said.

  Caelis raised an eyebrow.

  “A tournament?”

  “Yes.”

  The Guardian folded his arms.

  “Warriors gather from many worlds and races. Some come for fame. Some for challenge. Some simply to test themselves against the unknown.”

  Caelis thought about it.

  “You want me to join.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  The Guardian answered simply.

  “Because training ends where unpredictability begins.”

  The void cracked open in front of them.

  Not violently.

  Just enough to reveal a distant world beyond it.

  Caelis stepped closer.

  The sight surprised him.

  Unlike the ruined landscapes he had known, this world was vibrant.

  Cities stretched across mountain ranges.

  Floating arenas hung in the sky like massive stone rings.

  Energy currents moved through the air in visible streams, like rivers of light connecting different regions.

  And everywhere—

  People.

  Warriors.

  Different races.

  Different energies.

  Different styles.

  The Guardian stepped beside him.

  “This is where fighters gather when they want to see how strong they truly are.”

  Caelis’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “…Good.”

  The Guardian looked at him carefully.

  “Remember what you learned.”

  “Which part?”

  “That power alone does not determine victory.”

  Caelis smirked faintly.

  “I learned that the hard way.”

  The Guardian extended a hand.

  The portal widened.

  “Then come.”

  They stepped through.

  The world on the other side was loud.

  Crowds moved through wide stone streets leading toward the central arena district. Vendors shouted from stands selling equipment and food. Fighters passed by in groups, some laughing, others completely silent.

  Caelis immediately felt the difference.

  Energy everywhere.

  Not necessarily stronger than him.

  But unique.

  One fighter radiated heat like a living furnace.

  Another had almost no visible energy at all — but his movements were impossibly precise.

  “Interesting,” Caelis murmured.

  The Guardian led him through the streets toward the massive structure rising in the center of the city.

  The tournament arena.

  It towered like a mountain.

  Layered platforms stacked upward into the sky, surrounded by floating observation platforms where spectators would gather.

  Thousands of fighters were already present.

  Caelis could feel them.

  Some strong.

  Some average.

  Some… strange.

  But none of them felt like the demon.

  That alone was comforting.

  The Guardian stopped near the registration gate.

  “You will enter under your own name,” he said.

  Caelis nodded.

  “No interference?”

  “None.”

  Caelis looked at the arena again.

  “Good.”

  The Guardian stepped back.

  “I will observe.”

  Caelis walked toward the gate.

  But before he reached it—

  He felt something unusual.

  Not strong.

  Not overwhelming.

  Just… strange.

  He turned his head slightly.

  A small boy stood near the outer wall of the arena.

  Simple clothes.

  Messy hair.

  A wooden rod resting casually across his shoulder.

  The boy looked completely ordinary.

  Yet the moment their eyes met—

  The boy smiled.

  Not mockingly.

  Not challengingly.

  Just knowingly.

  Caelis frowned slightly.

  For a split second, it felt like the boy was studying him.

  Then the boy looked away, turning his attention back to the arena entrance as if nothing had happened.

  Caelis hesitated.

  “…Weird.”

  But he didn’t dwell on it.

  He stepped forward and registered for the tournament.

  Behind him, the boy twirled the wooden rod lazily and watched the crowd of fighters entering the arena.

  “So,” the boy murmured quietly.

  “Two rings already.”

  His smile widened slightly.

  “This should be fun.”

  No one heard him.

  And no one noticed when he entered the tournament as well.