The hours crawled by in tense silence. Then, without warning, the residence trembled as a figure stepped through the doorway.

The Imperial Overseer had arrived.

He looked almost human, tall and regal, but subtle differences marked him as something beyond Earth’s race. His skin carried a faint golden hue that seemed to shimmer beneath the lamplight.

A grand robe of red and gold draped his form, its edges traced with inscriptions that pulsed faintly.

He did not glance at Aurelia, nor at Septimus, nor at the others. His gaze settled directly on Adrian, as though none of the others mattered.

When he spoke, his voice was crisp, formal, and utterly devoid of emotion.

“By petition of Tharion Drakenholt, sanctioned under Aethelian decree, a life-and-death duel has been approved.” The Overseer’s eyes never wavered from Adrian’s face. “You will present yourself at the Imperial Arena within three hours.”

The pause stretched, heavy with finality. “Failure to appear will mark you as an outlaw.”

The words landed like a verdict, not a negotiation.

Aurelia stepped forward, her essence stirring, voice hard. “Three hours? That is no time to—”

The Overseer’s eyes flicked to her, cold and cutting. “Law is not made for comfort.”

His tone made it clear that, argument was nothing but wasted breath. “You stand accused. Defense is immediate.”

The chamber tensed, every breath sharp.

Adrian stepped forward, his expression calm, his voice steady. “I accept.”

The words rang out without hesitation. No fear, no protest.

The Overseer inclined his head ever so slightly, acknowledging a Stellar, nothing more. He turned away without ceremony, his cloak flaring like firelight.

The door shut with a sound. The decision was carved into stone.

Crack.

Septimus slammed his staff into the floor. “Madness! They’ve cornered us into this!”

Draven roared, fists clenched. “Three hours? That’s not law, it’s a bloody execution order!”

“The Patriarch has fought for millennia,” Lucian said quietly. “His Domain spans entire moons.”

Cassian’s eyes glowed faintly, threads of gold weaving in his gaze. His whisper sent a shiver through the room.

“Threads knot tighter. If he falls, Earth’s future falls with him.”

They were helpless against the empire’s law. Protest meant nothing here.

Adrian’s voice cut through their turmoil. “Hiding only makes us prey, let’s face it head on!”

…

The news spread like wildfire across the hub’s networks. Within minutes, every channel buzzed with the announcement.

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Through the streets of Solvaris, whispers grew into waves. A duel of Stellars, so rare that even those who despised the Drakenholt clan felt a thrill at the spectacle.

Crowds gathered at news terminals, speculating, wagering, hungering for a glimpse. “When did we last see Stellars fight to the death?”

Inside the Drakenholt compound, their warriors boasted with savage grins. “Our Patriarch will tear the upstart limb from limb!”

“Make him scream before the end,” another laughed. “Show the galaxy what happens to those who cross us.”

The news rippled across star systems under Drakenholt control. In shadowed corners and hidden channels, civilians whispered with trembling hope.

“If this Adrian kills him… maybe our chains will break.” Others spoke with despair, “Or they’ll tighten twice as hard.”

In rival clans’ chambers, sly smiles spread like poison. Envoys made hasty preparations, some to watch, others to scheme.

Profit, advantage, chaos, whatever the outcome, they would seize it. “Either way, Drakenholt bleeds,” one murmured.

Even Lexarian traders moved swiftly, setting up betting markets before the ink on the decree was dry. Odds were shouted across the commercial districts.

“An unknown youth against Tharion Drakenholt… imagine if he wins.” Crystal exchanges hands moved millions in moments.

“Win or lose, the Hub profits,” a merchant grinned. The arena would be packed.

And among hushed voices came a dangerous rumor that made hearts race. “If the boy wins… he could claim the Drakenholt’s resources.”

“Imagine it, an unbound Stellar, a clan’s wealth falling into his lap.” The possibility sent tremors through established power structures.

The duel was no longer just a matter of vengeance. It had become spectacle, opportunity, and storm.

…

Three hours later, Adrian and others stood before the Imperial Arena’s towering gates. The structure loomed impossibly vast, its metallic walls stretching beyond sight in both directions.

Every surface gleamed with inscribed runes that pulsed like heartbeats. The metal itself seemed alien, darker than steel yet somehow luminous.

Crowds pressed against barriers held back by Imperial guards. Voices rose in a cacophony of languages, species, and dialects that Adrian had never heard.

“Look at the size of this place,” Thomas muttered, craning his neck upward. “How many could it hold?”

“Millions,” Aurelia answered grimly. “When Stellars fight, the galaxy watches.”

Septimus drew a long breath, then spoke gravely. “You must be careful, Adrian. The Drakenholt are not a simple alien race. Their history is carved in fire.”

Adrian’s attention sharpened. “What do you mean?”

“They were once monsters.” Septimus’s voice carried weight. “Their homeworld was a sea of flame and molten rock, a world of volcanoes and firestorms.”

Kael shifted uneasily. “Monsters?”

“There, creatures they called ‘dragons’ roamed.” Septimus continued. “Over time, some split, some changed, until they became S-rank and evolved into what they are now.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Adrian felt everyone tense around him.

“Humanoid form, yes, but blood still carries the dragon’s mark.” Septimus’s eyes grew distant.

Kael’s eyes widened. “Then… they’re like demons?”

“They are demons!” Septimus said firmly. “But they bent knee to the Empire, and so they were accepted.”

Draven spat on the ground. “Politics over truth. Typical Imperial thinking.”

“For generations, they fought under its banners.” Septimus ignored the outburst. “The most dangerous thing is, their entire race is fire affinity users.”

“For generations, they have created and evolved their skills. It would be extremely powerful than any other Stellar Stage.”

The revelation sent ripples through the group.

Selena’s tattoos flickered faintly. “An entire race with one affinity?”

Adrian’s brow furrowed. “How is that possible? Affinities are natural soul resonance. How can an entire planet share the same?”

“Their world is drowned in flame, and so every soul born there resonates with it,” Septimus said. “Earth is diverse, our souls find different concepts.”

“On Drakenholt’s world, the fire concept saturates everything.” Septimus gestured broadly. “Stone, air, even blood. No soul can escape it.”

The truth painted their enemy as something beyond normal comprehension. A race forged by their world’s essence.

“Thus, their kind are born fire-blooded.” Septimus finished grimly.

A silence fell over them. Even the crowd’s roar seemed distant now.

Then Adrian stepped forward. No Imperial representative had come to guide them, no ceremony or protocol.

They were being treated like entertainment, nothing more. The realization burned in his chest.

“Our enemy is not just this Drakenholt clan.” His voice carried across their small group. “Even these empires corner us, and treat us as some kind of plaything.”

His eyes blazed with determination. “Today, no matter what, Tharion Drakenholt will die by my hand.”

The words rang with absolute conviction. “I will show the entire galaxy what humanity can truly do.”

Adrian’s gaze swept across his companions, then toward the arena’s massive entrance. “This will be our Earth’s official entry into the galaxy!”

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