The location for the "Tournament of the Younger Generation" was not a stadium of marble or a coliseum of stone. It was a graveyard. The Bone Reef was a neutral territory located between the domains of the Whale Shark King and the Crab Lord. It was a massive, natural formation composed of the calcified remains of ancient sea leviathans. Rib cages the size of cathedrals formed arches over the sandy floor, and skulls large enough to swallow a house served as viewing platforms.

It was grim. It was imposing. And today, it was packed.

Thousands of spectators from every faction in the Eternal Sea had gathered. Merfolk, Naga, Shark-kin, and Crab-people jostled for position on the jagged ridges. The water vibrated with the roar of the crowd, a chaotic mix of jeers, bets, and bloodlust. But beneath the excitement, there was a current of tension. Syndicate agents, barely concealing their identities under hooded cloaks, moved through the crowd, selling potions that glowed with unstable neon light.

Alvian stood in the preparation tunnel, his [Vestments of the Void Monarch] absorbing the dim light of the bioluminescent moss. He stood alone. Valeria and Seraphina were not with him. To the eyes of the enemy, he had come to his execution solitary and proud.

"System. Analysis."

[Location: The Bone Reef]

[Ambient Mana: High (Water/Death)]

[Hostile Density: Extreme]

[Trap Detection: Multiple Arrays detected beneath the arena floor.]

"Predictable," Alvian muttered.

A goblin announcer, riding a small, tamed manta ray, floated to the center of the arena. His voice was magically amplified, booming through the water with a distorted, grating quality.

"WELCOME, CITIZENS OF THE DEEP! WELCOME TO THE TOURNAMENT OF TIDES!"

The crowd roared.

"TODAY, WE SETTLE THE DISPUTE! IN ONE CORNER, REPRESENTING THE CITY OF AZUREUS, THE EIGHTH GUARDIAN... ALVIAN THE GODSLAYER!"

A gate made of whale bone groaned open. Alvian walked out. He didn't swim; he walked along the sandy floor, his [Greaves of the Tide-Runner] keeping him anchored despite the currents. He held the [Lance of the Void Winter] in his right hand, the black metal shaft stark against the white sand.

He was met with a wall of sound. Boos. Hisses. The Syndicate's propaganda had been effective; to many here, he was an invader, a surface-dweller who had murdered their heroes. Alvian ignored them. His gaze was fixed on the massive skull-throne at the far end of the arena.

Sitting there, looking like a mountain of muscle and scarred flesh, was King Megalos. The Whale Shark ruler watched Alvian with small, hateful eyes. Beside him stood his champions, a row of hulking warriors pumped full of alchemical stimulants.

"AND IN THE RED CORNER," the announcer shrieked. "THE CHALLENGERS! THE ELITE OF THE WHALE SHARK LEGION!"

"The rules are simple!" Megalos's voice cut through the noise, deep and resonating. "No flight. No mass-destruction spells. No outside interference. Combat ends in death or surrender. Begin!"

The rules were specifically designed to nerf Alvian. No flight meant he couldn't use the [Avatar of the Frost Monarch] to bomb them from above. No mass destruction meant he couldn't use [Frost Descent] to freeze the entire arena instantly.

"Inefficient constraints," Alvian whispered. "But acceptable."

The first challenger entered the ring. It was a Hammerhead Berserker, easily eight feet tall, wielding two massive axes made of jagged coral. His eyes were completely black—a sign of the [Berserk] potion.

[Target: Hammerhead Berserker]

[Level: 45]

[Status: Chemically Enraged]

"KILL!" The Berserker didn't wait for a signal. He charged, kicking up a cloud of silt. His speed was impressive for his size, boosted by the drugs in his veins.

Alvian didn't move. He stood perfectly still, his lance resting by his side.

The Berserker closed the distance. Twenty meters. Ten. Five. He raised both axes for a crushing overhead strike.

"DIE, HUMAN!"

Alvian moved.

He didn't use a skill. He didn't use magic. He used raw stats. With a Strength of 390 and a Speed of 250, he was faster than the eye could follow.

He took one step forward, slipping inside the Berserker's guard. He didn't stab. He slammed the butt of his lance into the Berserker's solar plexus.

"THUD!"

The sound was dull, heavy. The water around the impact point cavitated.

[-15,000! Crushing Damage!]

The Berserker's eyes bulged. The air—or rather, the water—was forced out of his lungs. His ribs shattered. The momentum of his charge was arrested instantly. He folded over the lance shaft, paralyzed by pain.

Alvian spun. He caught the Berserker by the throat with his free hand.

"Next."

He threw the massive shark-man. The Berserker flew across the arena, crashing into the barrier wall with a sickening crunch. He slid down, unconscious.

[Target Neutralized.]

The crowd went silent. One hit. No magic. Just brute force.

"Is that the best you have?" Alvian asked, looking up at Megalos.

Megalos growled, gesturing to the next fighter. "Send the Siren. Flay his mind."

The second challenger glided into the arena. It was a Siren, beautiful and deadly, her scales shimmering with illusion magic. She didn't carry a weapon. She carried a harp made of bone.

[Target: Siren Mind-Weaver]

[Level: 46]

[Status: Buffed]

She strummed a chord. A wave of pink, psychic energy rippled through the water.

"Sleep, little hero..." she sang, her voice weaving into Alvian's mind, promising rest, promising peace.

[System Warning: Mental Attack Detected.]

[Passive: [Void Monarch] Mind Fortress Active.]

[Attack Nullified.]

Alvian didn't even blink. The psychic wave washed over him and vanished into the void of his mental defenses. He walked toward her.

The Siren frowned. She played faster, her song turning screeching and discordant. Illusionary monsters—sharks, krakens, sea serpents—manifested around Alvian, snapping at his flesh.

Alvian walked through a phantom shark. It dissolved into mist upon touching his armor.

"Your illusions lack substance," Alvian stated, closing the distance.

The Siren panicked. She switched to a sonic scream, a blast of sound meant to rupture eardrums.

"SCREEEE—"

Alvian was already there. He reached out and grabbed the bone harp. He crushed it.

"CRACK."

The music stopped. The Siren stared at the splintered remains of her instrument. Alvian backhanded her.

"SLAP!"

She spun through the water, unconscious before she hit the ground.

[Target Neutralized.]

Alvian looked at the VIP box. "Inefficient. Send someone real."

The crowd was murmuring now. Fear was replacing the bloodlust. Alvian wasn't fighting; he was taking out the trash.

"Send Baron," Megalos hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped his throne. "End this farce."

A gate on the far side of the arena opened. A single figure swam out. The crowd erupted, not in bloodlust, but in adoration.

"BARON! BARON! BARON!"

Alvian narrowed his eyes. The main event had arrived.

Baron, the heir to the Whale Shark King, was not what Alvian expected. He wasn't a hulking brute like his father. He was streamlined, built for speed and precision. He wore armor made of white gold and polished pearl, etched with runes that glowed with a soft, expensive light. He held a spear that looked more like a work of art than a weapon.

But Alvian's eyes saw past the glamour.

[Target Identified: Baron (The Gilded Prince)]

[Level: 49]

[Class: Hydro-Lancer]

[Status: Syndicate Augmentation (Active)]

Underneath the shiny armor, Baron's mana signature was wrong. It was spiked with the same chaotic red energy Alvian had seen in Subject Zero. Tubes ran from his armor into his neck, pumping a glowing green serum directly into his bloodstream.

"Performance enhancers," Alvian noted. "And mechanical assist gears in the joints. He's a cyborg in a fancy suit."

Baron stopped in the center of the arena. He raised his spear, preening for the crowd. He looked at Alvian with a sneer that showed off his serrated teeth.

"So, you are the one causing my father so much trouble," Baron said, his voice amplified and smooth. "You look small. Fragile. Like something I would eat as a snack."

"Size is a poor metric for lethality," Alvian replied, resting his lance on his shoulder. "A virus is microscopic, yet it kills kings."

Baron laughed. "A virus? Is that what you are? A disease? Then I am the cure."

He spun his spear, the water around it churning into a vortex. "I have heard the stories. You rely on trickery. You rely on items. You froze my uncle Voltex because you couldn't fight him man-to-man."

"I killed Voltex because he was slow," Alvian corrected. "And I will kill you because you are talkative."

Baron's face twisted in rage. "Insolence! Do you know who I am? I am the future of the Eternal Sea! I have been blessed by the true gods!"

"The Syndicate aren't gods," Alvian said, his voice cutting through the water like a blade. "They are salesmen. And you bought a defective product."

The crowd gasped. To openly insult the Syndicate's "blessing" was heresy in these waters.

Baron pointed his spear at Alvian. "I will mount your head on my wall, surface-dweller. I will strip that armor from your corpse and melt it down for rings."

"Try," Alvian said.

[Round Start!]

Baron didn't wait. He activated his boots—Syndicate tech thrusters hidden in the heels. He shot forward, a streak of white and gold.

"HYDRO DRILL!"

He spun his body, turning himself into a living torpedo. The water around him spiraled, creating a drill of high-pressure currents capable of punching through a ship's hull.

Alvian watched him come.

[Analysis: Attack Trajectory Linear. Velocity: Mach 1.5.]

Alvian didn't use [Void Step]. He didn't use [Runic Aegis]. He simply side-stepped.

"WHOOSH!"

Baron rushed past him, missing by inches. The pressure wave ruffled Alvian's hair, but did no damage.

Baron recovered instantly, using his thrusters to pivot in the water. He slashed backward with his spear.

"TIDAL SLASH!"

A blade of compressed water shot toward Alvian's back.

Alvian didn't dodge. He turned and swatted the water blade with his bare hand.

"SMACK."

The magical attack shattered into harmless bubbles.

[Physical Resistance: Absolute.]

"What?" Baron stammered. "You... you blocked magic with your hand?"

"Your magic is weak," Alvian stated. "It lacks density. It lacks intent."

He walked toward Baron. He didn't rush. He walked with the inevitable stride of a reaper.

"Stay back!" Baron shouted. He activated the serum pumps in his armor. His muscles bulged, tearing his skin. His eyes turned red.

[Status Update: Overdrive Mode.]

"I AM THE APEX PREDATOR!" Baron roared. He unleashed a flurry of thrusts, his spear moving so fast it looked like a wall of steel.

Alvian walked into the storm of attacks.

"Parry. Parry. Deflect. Dodge."

He moved with minimal effort. He used the shaft of his lance to bat away the strikes, moving with a lazy grace that was more insulting than any word.

"TING! CLANG! CLASH!"

Baron was sweating now, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was attacking with everything he had, and Alvian looked like he was bored.

"Are you done?" Alvian asked, blocking a thrust with one finger against the flat of the blade.

Baron stared at him, horror dawning in his eyes.

"Now," Alvian said. "Let me show you how to use a spear."

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