He flipped in mid-air, twisting and firing another arrow downward—this one charged with divine energy.
The arrow exploded with blinding white light, shattering the shadow tendrils and forcing Grimm to materialize again.
Orion landed hard, gasping for breath. Already, his heartbeat was racing.
Each time Grimm vanished into the floor, Orion had to guess where he'd come from. That unpredictability was killing his rhythm.
Grimm smirked, disappearing again.
1:44 / 5:00
Orion switched tactics. Instead of firing when Grimm disappeared, he began drawing arrows only after Grimm reappeared.
One strike after another, they clashed, the arena filled with sparks and flares of divine energy as the divine-infused bow clanged against dagger, each exchange faster than the last.
But Grimm's attacks grew more vicious, more calculated.
A faint line of blood trailed from Orion's cheek. Then another nick on his shoulder. His breathing grew harsher.
He fired another divine arrow, and Grimm ducked to the floor. Miss.
Orion jumped back, trying to find rhythm.
"I can't keep up like this… he's faster, and I'm burning divine energy with every shot," he thought, sweat mixing with blood on his brow.
3:27 / 5:00
Suddenly, the assassin feinted left, then surged from behind. Orion turned — too slow.
CRACK!
The dagger slammed into his bow arm, forcing him to drop it. The mithril bow clattered to the ground.
Grimm grinned under the mask. "No weapon. No soul energy. No chance."
He raised the dagger again. Shadow magic writhed around his form. He would strike and finish this.
Orion backed away, hand trembling. "I need… something…"
As Grimm lunged, time slowed. In that split-second, Orion gritted his teeth, reached deep into himself. His divine energy erupted out of his body.
A radiant shaft of pure divine energy formed in his hand, crackling like thunder, searing with white-gold fire, born of sheer instinct and desperation.
"Just one shot," Orion growled.
Grimm lunged. Orion stabbed forward.
The divine arrow pierced through Grimm's chest, crackling with holy light. The assassin's shadowy form trembled violently, then exploded into smoky tendrils that evaporated in the air.
The dagger dropped. Grimm hit the ground hard, unconscious.
[Victory: Orion]
The announcer's voice boomed through the arena like thunder.
"Match Winner: Orion!"
Cheers erupted. The audience rose in a standing ovation, clapping and whistling for the young fighter who had just taken down a seeded warrior with nothing but grit and raw divine power.
But Orion didn't hear any of it.
He wasn't even breathing properly.
His eyes, wide and disbelieving, were fixed on the floating display above the battlefield, the final timestamp etched in bold letters: 5:03
Time seemed to stop for him in that moment.
"Five minutes and… three seconds?" he muttered aloud, his voice barely a whisper, drowned in the crowd's cheer. "Three seconds…"
The roar of the crowd blurred into static. His limbs grew numb. His chest tightened with a rising ache that was deeper than fatigue.
He had pushed himself past his limits. He had risked everything and won.
But still lost because of his father's condition.
"I'm out," he whispered. "Dad…" His eyes desperately searched the audience section for a while, but he didn't see Azzy's silhouette this time… "I failed…"
He turned around, walking off the stage as the cheers began to die down.
Everyone watched, confused. He didn't wave. He didn't smile. He didn't even glance at the judge's booth. Just a slouched back and heavy steps.
In the Top 16 winners' waiting hall, his name never appeared.
As Affea noticed his disappearance from the system, her brows furrowed. She stood up, turning toward Azzy in the VIP box, but he was already gone.
Outside, the noise of the arena faded behind Orion as he walked through the stone-paved streets of Graena City.
The sky had begun to turn orange with the late afternoon sun.
His fists were clenched in his pockets, head low. The voices around him felt distant — fans chattering about the battles, vendors calling out for snacks and drinks, and other contestants walking together in groups.
He walked aimlessly, like a ghost.
"I gave it everything. And still… three seconds late? Why did he even give me that condition? Was it just punishment?"
He didn't notice when someone began to follow him. Not until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Orion turned, startled…
CRACK!
A fist slammed into his face before he even registered the figure behind it.
His head snapped sideways. The world spun.
And then…
The blackout greeted him, and he slowly fell forward onto the mystery person.
A few hours later;
Orion stirred with a groan. As his consciousness returned, he found himself bound by energy chains that wrapped tightly around his arms and legs, pinning him to a chair.
His heart raced.
"Where am I? What the hell happened?"
The last thing he remembered was walking down the street…
His eyes darted around the room.
The chamber was dimly lit by a flickering sphere of orange light floating above, casting shadows that danced along the rough, jagged stone walls.
There were no windows. No doors.
He gritted his teeth and flexed his arms, veins bulging with effort as he tried to force his way out. The chains shimmered, tightening as they absorbed his struggling energy, glowing faintly violet.
"Ugh—dammit!"
He inhaled sharply and called to his divine energy. Nothing. It was like screaming into a void. His connection was severed.
"Who's there!" he roared.
His voice echoed through the chamber, swallowed by silence… until a quiet thump echoed from somewhere deeper in the dark.
A footstep.
Then another.
From the darkest corner of the room, a figure stepped forward, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in a long black cloak. His face was obscured behind a metallic, expressionless mask with no visible features except two cold eyes.
He stopped a few steps away from Orion and folded his arms.
"Orion Garcia," the man said, his voice deep, calm, and laced with malice. "Welcome to the dungeon of Abyss."
A chill bolted down Orion's spine. "Who… who are you? What do you want with me?"
"What do I want?" The man chuckled under the mask, crossing his arms.