It began with a pulse.

  Not one of power, but of space.

  A shiver passed through every inch of the Verdant Nexus — and through every other completed Dominion in the Sylvan Reaches.

  The world bent, ever so slightly.

  Reality tilted, aligning to something greater than itself.

  And then the System spoke.

  ---

  《System Alert: Phase Four Initiated》

  《Sovereigns of the Sylvan Reaches, your dominions have been recognized》

  《You are being summoned to the Astral Arena》

  《Your territories will remain locked and protected during your absence》

  《Time within the Arena is decoupled from the World Meridian—no time will pass in your territory while you are away》

  《You may select one personal armament style from the standardized system arsenal. Equipment will be equalized. Items not authorized by the System will be removed upon arrival.》

  《Victory Points will be awarded for each successful match. Points may be spent in the Arena Market on enhanced but authorized gear, temporary skills, or strategic boons.》

  《Arena format: Double Elimination》

  《You may not harm or sabotage fellow Sovereigns outside of sanctioned matches. Violation will result in immediate disqualification and ejection from the Trial of Kings.》

  ---

  Selene felt the fabric of her throne room stretch and split.

  A pillar of white light rose before her throne, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

  It was not a portal.

  It was a command.

  Foxes stepped forward, eyebrow raised. “No army, no diplomacy, no favors. Just us.”

  Strategy folded her arms. “That was always where this would lead.”

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  Selene said nothing.

  She stepped into the light.

  And in an instant—

  The Verdant Nexus was gone.

  ---

  She emerged into a skyless realm of crystalline horizons and mirrored ground, floating in a vast endless space that glimmered with fractured starlight.

  The Astral Arena.

  It was not one location.

  It was a construct — a pocket reality stitched into being by the System for one purpose:

  To determine who was worthy to ascend.

  Selene stood on a raised platform of black glass, already surrounded by five other Sovereigns.

  They did not speak.

  But their presence spoke for them.

  Power radiated from each.

  She recognized some of the energies she’d seen on the Grand Cartograph: the storm-charged one… the one of searing fire… the presence that smelled of rot and earth.

  And more were appearing.

  A few blinked at her.

  Some didn’t look at her at all.

  None of them spoke.

  Because the light in the center of the arena was changing.

  And something was being born.

  ---

  From the silver mist rose an entity that was not quite person, not quite machine, and not quite spirit.

  Its body was a flickering outline of code and flesh, clad in flowing robes that shifted between ink and static. Its face was a blank plate etched with ever-changing glyphs.

  When it spoke, it was in every voice at once.

  “I am Adjudicator.”

  “I am the System’s breath. The will of the Trial. The voice of Order.”

  “You have each conquered your Dominion. You are the Sovereigns of the Sylvan Reaches.”

  “You now face one another.”

  “Each battle will be fought alone. No armies. No servants. No interference.”

  “You will select a single standardized weapon type to begin. You may change your selection between matches using your points.”

  “You will enter the Arena in pairs. You will fight. The winner will advance in the upper bracket. The loser will descend to the lower.”

  “Lose twice, and you are eliminated from the Trial of Kings.”

  “There will be no duels outside of sanctioned matches. The Arena is law. Break it, and be cast out.”

  “You may not die within the Arena. Defeat is not death. But it is failure.”

  “You may earn Victory Points. These may be spent between matches at the Market Hall.”

  “They may not be hoarded for future phases.”

  “Win. Spend. Adapt. Survive.”

  ---

  Selene narrowed her eyes. The Tournament was a game of not just power, but resourcefulness.

  Victory wasn’t enough.

  You had to evolve after every battle.

  Foxes would’ve loved this.

  She glanced at the other Sovereigns.

  The one cloaked in feathers was watching her with sharp, sky-colored eyes.

  The woman with veins of gold and fire flickering around her shoulders crossed her arms, radiant and still.

  The one with withered hands and a smile like rot did not blink.

  Selene chose her equipment from the ethereal console floating beside her.

  No tricks.

  No deception.

  Just a single word: Staff.

  She pressed the glyph.

  It vanished into her palm in a shimmer of System-blue light.

  And with it, she felt the first draw of power — clean, stripped of all artifact bindings, pure channeling.

  A fair fight, by the System’s design.

  But Balance would not be equalized.

  Her domain was not a borrowed force.

  It was who she was.

  And even in a sterile realm designed to strip away advantage—

  Selene was still Selene.

  And soon, the others would understand what it meant to face the first to finish.

  Because they weren’t fighting for their lives.

  They were fighting for the right to lose last.

  And even that would be denied to all but one.