Shining Shadow

The coliseum gates loomed like the jaws of some ancient beast, and I strode through them with the grin of a man who'd already won. The air buzzed with anticipation, a thousand voices blending into a roar that hit me like a shot of moonshine. I'd come to Tradewind's grand arena to make a name—or break some skulls trying.

At the registration desk, I scrawled "Supreme Elf" on the parchment with a flourish, my quill dripping bravado. The clerk, a scrawny human with a pinched face, squinted at me. "Qi-less, huh? Brave or just plain dumb?" I leaned in, winking. "Both, pal. Line 'em up—I'm here to dance."

They started me off easy—Novice-level beasts, barely worth the sweat. A Gromble charged first, its tusks gleaming under the sun, a snorting mass of muscle and fury. I sidestepped with my new boots—crafted from Silver Wolf pelts and laced with Wind Qi—moving like a ghost across the sand. Ember's Fang, one of my Pyroclast Dual Swords, sank into its flank, fire licking the wound as it squealed and dropped. The crowd murmured, a ripple of curiosity.

Next came two Knight-level Wind Wolves, their pelts shimmering with faint Qi currents. I tossed a Stink-Slick Trap—a nasty little concoction of my own making—watching the goo coat their fur, slowing them to a stumble. Blaze's Claw, my second sword, carved through one's throat, then the other's chest, their howls fading into wet gurgles. The stands cheered, louder now, but I held back, teasing the chaos to come. "That's just the warm-up, folks!" I shouted, twirling my blades.

The Expert-level fights brought cultivators into the mix—arrogant bastards with elements flashing and egos bigger than their heads. A Fire Scholar stepped up, his robes billowing as he lobbed a flaming orb my way, sneering like I was already ash. I dodged, boots blurring, and slammed a Heaven Splitter into his ribs—my curse's enhanced strength driving the blow, cracking bone despite his Qi shield. He hit the dirt, gasping, and the crowd roared.

An Earth Expert followed, summoning stone spikes from the sand like jagged teeth. I danced between them, grinning, my blades a whirlwind as I slashed his legs with Wind's Rebuke, a Spiritual-grade dagger I'd kept tucked away. He fell, cursing, and I bowed low. "Too easy!" I called, earning laughs and jeers from the stands. The noise swelled—good. Let them love me. Let them hate me. Just let them watch.

Scholar-level—Level 4—hit like a storm breaking loose. A Water Scholar strode in, his aura rippling like a tide, and unleashed a torrent that churned the sand into mud. Smug prick thought he'd drown me. I spun into a Whirlwind Strike, dual swords whirling, sucking his water into a misty vortex that shimmered in the sunlight. His jaw dropped, and I charged, slamming a curse-fueled fist into his gut. He sprawled, defeated, and the stands erupted, chanting, "Supreme Elf! Supreme Elf!" I waved, grinning wider, but kept my edge sharp.

The real fights—the ones that'd make or break me—were still ahead.

Then came the Masters—Level 5—and the air shifted, heavy with power. The crowd hushed, sensing blood on the wind. A Lightning Master crackled into the arena, his aura a storm of snapping bolts, eyes glinting with contempt. "Qi-less freak," he spat, lightning coiling around his fists like serpents. I smirked, slipping a dab of Moonflower sap into my mouth—its bitter tang boosting my reflexes—and palming a coil of Zenoite wire between my teeth. He lunged, bolts arcing toward me, fast as death. Time to show them something new. I triggered my Shadowveil Cloak (Legendary-grade) for the first time, Darkness Qi unfurling around me like a living shadow, swallowing me whole. The crowd gasped as I vanished, only to reappear behind him, boots making me a blur. Ember's Fang drove into his shoulder, fire clashing with lightning in a burst of sparks. He screamed, spinning to retaliate, but I was gone again, the cloak's shadows wrapping me tight. "Where are you, coward?" he roared, bolts lashing blindly. My laugh echoed from every corner. "Everywhere, sparkplug."

I struck again, Blaze's Claw searing his ribs, the fire biting deep as he staggered. He swung wild, lightning scorching the sand where I'd been a heartbeat ago. I Shadowstepped—boots and cloak in perfect sync—sliding under his guard, wire snapping out like a whip. A Vortex Strike followed, dual swords spinning, wire weaving a blade-storm that tangled his arms and slashed his chest. He fell, bloody and bound, his lightning fizzling out. The crowd lost their damn minds, screams of awe and disbelief shaking the stands. "A qi-less nobody with a Legendary item?" someone shouted. "What is this elf?" I let the cloak settle, its shadows rippling, and flashed a grin. Let them talk. Let it spread. The Supreme Elf was no joke—and now they knew it.

The second Master was a woman, a Metal cultivator with skin shimmering like Cryonsteel, her twin axes gleaming wickedly. She smirked, sizing me up. "You're cute, elf," she purred, "but you're mine." I winked back. "Promises, promises, gorgeous." She charged, axes whistling through the air, a blur of death. I Shadowstepped, cloak trailing shadows, and slashed her thigh with Wind's Rebuke, the blade denting her metal skin. She hissed, axes merging into a spinning shield that hummed with Qi. I darted in, Heaven Splitter cracking her defense, but she countered fast, an axe grazing my cheek. Blood trickled, warm and sharp, and I laughed. "First blood to you, darling." Her eyes narrowed, and she unleashed a storm of Metal Qi—shards flying like a hail of daggers. I spun into a Whirlwind Strike, cloak billowing, deflecting most, but one sliced my arm, pain flaring hot. Time to end this my way.

I Shadowstepped behind her, boots silent as whispers, and drew my dagger. With a flick of my wrist, I sliced through her skirt and panties, the fabric falling away in a single clean cut. She froze, exposed from the waist down, as I reappeared in front of her, holding her panties up like a trophy. The crowd held its breath. I brought them to my nose, inhaling deep, and grinned. "Smells like sweat… and my victory, hahaha!" The stands erupted in laughter, her face turning red as a ripe tomato. She shrieked, hands flying to cover herself, "I forfeit!" and bolted from the arena, faster than lightning, leaving a trail of humiliation. I waved her panties like a flag, tossing them into the cheering crowd. "Supreme Elf!" they chanted, the noise a tidal wave. Provocative? Sure. Effective? Damn right.

But the Grand Masters—Level 6—were a different beast entirely. The first was an Earth Grand Master, a hulking figure with skin like granite, his every step rumbling the ground. He slammed his fists into the sand, summoning boulders that hovered, poised to crush me. I darted with my boots, cloak trailing shadows, but his Qi was a wall, thick and unyielding. I baited him, dodging as boulders crashed, then snapped a Razorvine Wire trap—thorny coils I'd rigged earlier. He charged, wire slicing into his legs, and I pounced, dual swords carving "S E" into his rocky back. He roared, boulders raining down, one clipping my shoulder with a sickening crunch. Pain exploded, but I laughed through it, kicking him into the dirt. "Next time, bring a real fight!" The crowd's roar shook the arena, but I felt new eyes on me—sharp, predatory. A qi-less elf with a Legendary cloak? I'd just painted a bullseye on my forehead.

The second Grand Master was a Darkness cultivator, his form flickering like smoke, shadows curling around him. "You're nothing, elf," he sneered, his voice a hiss. I smirked, slipping more Moonflower sap into my mouth, Zenoite wire at the ready. He struck first, shadow tendrils lashing out, but I spun into a Vortex Strike, swords and wire whipping through the air, shredding his darkness. He snarled, a poisoned dart flicking from his sleeve—cheeky bastard. I Shadowstepped, dodging by a hair, and closed in, wire snagging his arm. His shadows faltered, and I slammed him down, pinning him. For good measure, I pissed on his robes, grinning. "That's for the poison trick, asshole." The stands went wild, "Supreme Elf!" thundering through the air as he lay there, beaten and soaked.

The final battle was a Peak Grand Master, his aura a void that sucked the light from the arena. He didn't waste words, just unleashed a tidal wave of Water Qi, flooding the sand into a churning swamp. I Shadowstepped, but his Qi was everywhere, dragging me under. My boots slipped, cloak heavy with water, and I gasped as he appeared, fist smashing into my ribs—crack. Pain erupted, white-hot, and I hit the sand, blood bubbling in my mouth. The crowd gasped, sensing my end. He loomed, a tsunami building behind him. "Die, freak," he growled. I coughed, grinning through bloody teeth. "Not today, fish-face."

I triggered Varkoth's full form—five meters of red-black scales uncoiling from my arm, his Beginner Master Darkness Qi a storm of menace. The crowd screamed as he towered over the arena, fangs bared, his Dread Glare locking the Grand Master in place for a precious heartbeat. "Father, let's end this," Varkoth hissed, voice sharp as a blade. The Grand Master's eyes widened. "A… Wyrm?" he stammered, mistaking Varkoth for a rare black Wyrm. I laughed, staggering to my feet. "Surprise, asshole." Varkoth lunged, Shadow Bind wrapping the man's legs in dark coils, slowing him as I Shadowstepped forward, boots and cloak a blur. Both swords drove into his chest—Ember's Fang and Blaze's Claw—fire roaring as I twisted the blades. He gurgled, water collapsing around him, and fell, dead. "Game over," I whispered, yanking my swords free.

I stood, chest heaving, swords raised, blood dripping into the sand. Varkoth coiled back into his artifact form, scales glinting, and the crowd chanted my name, a deafening wave of awe and fear. A qi-less nobody with a Legendary cloak and a "Wyrm"? I'd made enemies today, no doubt—whispers of envy and danger already threading through the stands. The Coliseum Master approached, an orc in Geodrite armor, his tusks gleaming as he tossed me a spatial ring. "Your winnings, elf. 20 Level 5, 40 Level 3, 90 Level 2, and 200 Level 1. You're a damn legend." He grinned, offering a hand. "Join my stable—fight for me, and you'll drown in riches." I caught the ring, smirking as I slipped it on. "Tempting, big guy, but I'm out after tomorrow's auction." His grin faded, but he nodded. "Fair enough. Tradewind won't forget you, Supreme Elf."

Then it hit me—the auction. "Shit!" I muttered, smacking my forehead. I'd lost track of time in the madness. I sprinted from the arena, the crowd's cheers fading behind me, and tore through Tradewind's streets, the curse dragging at my legs like an anchor. The auction house loomed ahead, banners fluttering in the breeze.

I burst through the doors, panting like a dog, and there they were—Bera, Tira, and Lila, arms crossed, smirks sharp as knives. "Late again, pervert?" Tira drawled, her phoenix tattoo glinting in the light. Bera snorted. "Probably chasing skirts." Lila's earth spike nudged my boot. "Or causing chaos without us." I grinned, catching my breath. "Missed me, ladies?" They rolled their eyes, but their smiles betrayed them. Chaos was back, and Tradewind was just the beginning.