The arena thundered with the roar of the crowd, though their cheers were a distant murmur to Lukas Drakos.

  His focus was absolute.

  Every movement Jesse made, every twitch or shift in his stance, was caught by Lukas’ sharp, calculating gaze.

  The dragonborn struck at him but Lukas tilted his head slightly—barely a fraction of movement—and the claws missed by mere inches, carving through the air where his throat had been a heartbeat ago.

  Before Jesse could follow through with another strike, Lukas drove a kick into his chest, a clean and precise strike that sent the dragonborn stumbling backward.

  Jesse collided into a towering construct of water that shimmered like living glass, a warrior born from Lukas’s will alone. The construct moved with fluid grace, every ripple and surge of its body guided by the Divinity of the Seas. Its arms flowed outward, forming around Jesse like currents seeking to drag him down to the depths, its grip tightening in an effort to pin him down.

  But Jesse was not so easily contained.

  With a low growl, the dragonborn’s form began to waver, his form shimmering with an iridescent light as his body started to dissipate. What had once been flesh and bone turned translucent, then vanished into the swirling winds itself. The construct's grasp found only the empty air.

  Jesse reappeared, just a few feet away. The winds circled around him, bending to his command. His expression was calm but strained; behind the determination in his eyes, Lukas caught a flicker of something else.

  Realization.

  Jesse now saw the distance between them, the chasm that lay between Lukas' level of strength and his own. The dragonborn’s breath came slower now, the adrenaline cooling into something more measured. The young heir of House Sterling knew that every mistake from this point onward would cost him dearly.

  Jesse was done holding back.

  The air shifted again, sharper this time. Jesse spread his claws wide, and the winds howled to life as if the heavens themselves had recognized their master. His magic surged, rippling across the field in visible waves.

  It was not a chaotic power, it was refined, regal, and utterly relentless.

  This was the true strength of House Sterling, the Divinity of the Skies.

  For centuries, before the Monarch, that very magic had been the reason why House Sterling had been considered the most powerful of all the Great Houses. The Skies had always been the House that soared above all others, their dominion unmatched both in politics and on the battlefield. Hearing of its legend through word of mouth was one thing but seeing it in Jesse was something else altogether.

  The wind wrapped around Jesse’s form like armor, his movements accelerating beyond mortal limits. His figure blurred as he darted forward, the ground cracking beneath the force of his takeoff.

  Lukas raised his hand and the water warrior moved to intercept, but the creature was cleaved apart before it could react, shredded by invisible blades of air. The droplets scattered, reforming behind Jesse only for him to twist midair and vanish again.

  Lukas' senses flared as he turned just in time to catch a glimpse of movement above him.

  Jesse descended like a bolt of thunder, claws outstretched, the air screaming around him. Lukas met the strike with his forearm, the force of the blow sending a shockwave across the arena floor. Water surged to reinforce his defense, spiraling around him as the two forces collided—wind against water, the Skies against Seas.

  For the first time since the duel began, Lukas began to feel the thrill of something close to true opposition.

  The Draconic Flow merged seamlessly with the Divinity of the Skies. Every strike was swift and deliberate, every step guided by the winds that whispered in his favor.

  Even as Lukas blocked, deflected, and countered with perfect precision, his smile only grew. This was the kind of fight that legends were born from, a clash not merely of power but of inheritance. Two heirs of ancient houses, bound by their legacies, testing the very limits of what their bloodlines could endure.

  In truth, Jesse was not the only one being tested because the dragonborn was slowly pushing Lukas back.

  Every gust of wind that screamed through the arena was met with a surge of crashing water, and between those forces, Lukas Drakos and Jesse Sterling stood as embodiments of their Houses.

  Jesse’s skill over the Divinity of the Skies was breathtaking, going far beyond anything Lukas had ever witnessed from Samuel Sterling himself. The winds around Jesse did not merely obey; they worshipped him. The air twisted into spiraling vortexes, tearing at the ground and leaving trails of devastation in their wake. The sky itself seemed to bend at his command, churning with electricity that bled through the clouds. Bolts of lightning tore across the arena, descending like judgement. Each one carried enough power to reduce a lesser man to ash.

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  The Robes of the Lord flared to life, the Legacy shimmering with a cold, blue luminescence as every bolt of lightning dispersed harmlessly across Lukas' scales. The fury of the heavens bent away from his form, the Legacy making him immune to the elements including Jesse's lightning. But even with that protection, Lukas could not afford complacency.

  Jesse’s speed was monstrous, his movements blurring faster than his eyes could follow.

  The twins had showed Lukas that the Internal Arts was more than just simply amplifying one’s physical abilities beyond natural limits. Such a simple technique was simple in concept yet infinitely complex in execution. By redirecting the current of their magical energy, a practitioner of the Internal Arts could enhance any part of their being. Most used it to harden their bodies, to strengthen their blows or grant them greater agility in battle.

  But that was not what Lukas needed.

  What he needed was the ability to see.

  He remembered what he had once told Rosalia before they had even begun their training.

  "No matter how fast you are. No matter how strong you become. The first step to becoming a fighter is in your vision.”

  As the magical energy flowed into his sight, the world sharpened. Lukas could not see the wind itself, but he could read its influence. Every grain of sand that lifted from the floor, every ripple of disturbed air, every trace of movement and even the subtle distortion of air pressure that betrayed Jesse's path before the dragonborn even committed to it.

  Lukas' body might not have been fast enough to react to Jesse's speed, but his mind was. And the Divinity of the Seas—the magic of House Drakos—was simply an extension of just that. The water around Lukas stirred in response to his sharpened perception, moving almost of its own accord as though anticipating his thoughts.

  A torrent surged from beneath his feet, crashing upward to intercept Jesse’s advance.

  Lukas’ lips curved faintly.

  He wanted to see more.

  There was no denying that the dragonborn was strong. The way he wielded the Divinity of the Skies placed him among an elite few in the entire realm of Hiraeth. His control over wind and storm was not something many could even hope to match. The sheer pressure of the winds he commanded was immense, and every swing of his arm could summon a gale that tore through the battleground.

  Still, there was something missing.

  Because here was what Jesse did not yet understand.

  Jesse’s technique was immaculate, but it was not his.

  It was not his because Jesse was using his Divinity like Lukas used his own.

  Lukas could tell from the patterns of movement, the shifting forms of wind shaped like waves, the fluidity that mimicked the ebb and flow of the Divinity of the Seas. It carried influence, borrowed structure. But it was simply echoes of what Jesse had seen from the King of the Dragons throughout the years.

  Lukas’ greatest strength had always been versatility.

  The Seas had taught him to adapt, to flow around obstacles, to learn from every tide and storm. He had inherited the knowledge of every Dragon Lord of Linemall's Seas that had come before him—fragments of their souls, memories, and battles, all of it carved into him by his time within the worlds of the Crest. Every battle that he had fought within the Crest and outside of it had become a lesson etched into his being. That was what put Lukas above the rest of all the Heads of House Drakos who had come before him, mastery over all aspects of water, from stillness to fury and from surface to depth.

  But those who hoped to become the strongest in this world did not follow paths already forged.

  They created their own.

  That was what Jesse Sterling was beginning to realize.

  Lukas could see it happening. With each clash, with every failed strike, Jesse’s eyes grew sharper—not with anger, but with understanding. His movements began to change, subtly at first. He was beginning to grasp it—the truth that no amount of imitation, no borrowed technique, could ever carry him to the summit.

  The dragonborn needed to find his own path to the top.

  The storm raged between them, water and lightning whipping across the arena as the two fighters stood motionless for the first time since their duel began. Jesse’s chest heaved as he drew in a breath, the taste of ozone and salt sharp in the air.

  Across from him, Lukas lowered his hand and gave the dragonborn a single nod.

  No words passed between them.

  None were needed.

  Because Jesse understood it now.

  If he wished to stand among those who could not be challenged—if he wished to be remembered not merely as the prodigy of House Sterling, but as something far greater—then he would have to ascend on his own terms.

  Jesse's strength lay in his speed, in the blinding swiftness of his strikes and the precision of his instincts.

  That was his foundation. That was what Jesse needed to build upon.

  The air began to change. The magical energy around Jesse began to hum, vibrating with a frequency that resonated with the heavens themselves. His aura no longer swirled like wind around him; it was compressed and contained within. The storm no longer seemed summoned by his will—it was his will.

  Then, with a single flash of lightning, Jesse vanished.

  Even with his enhanced vision, Lukas could no longer trace Jesse's movements and in that moment, a faint smile crossed his lips.

  Lukas understood what he was witnessing.

  Jesse Sterling could no longer just be considered a dragonborn of noble blood.

  He had ascended, his will unshackled, his power his own.

  For the first time in centuries, a new Dragon Lord of the Skies had been born. And in that storm, Lukas Drakos saw not a student but a rival, the rise of a new legend, of the Emperor of the Skies.

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