Chapter 289: Recognizing a Potential Threat
He held no personal grudge against Balech or the Aqualeth race—his disdain was equal for all. But seeing them openly gathering with the Velari, especially now that Liora Virell had ascended to the rank of Titled Practitioner, sharpened that disdain further.
"Kharom." His voice rumbled low, yet carried so clearly that every Umbraen heard it. Elders and youths alike froze, turning with respect toward their leader.
From the back of the gathering, Kharom broke away from the group and hurried forward, climbing onto the Dragon’s massive head until he stood before his grandfather.
"Yes, Grandfather." He dropped to his knees, bowing his head deeply. His tone was steady, filled with reverence.
"Look at them. What do you see?" Sevrak pointed toward the figures assembled on Collossith’s enormous skull.
Kharom lifted his eyes. The first face he recognized was Liora Virell’s. His brows furrowed at once, his expression twisting with contempt as the memory hit him—the crushing grip of her giant form, his bones shattering, the shame of being overpowered. Rage flared within him, mingling with a thirst for revenge.
His eyes moved to Adyr, a contender in the coming tournament, the fury in his expression refusing to fade. Then they fell upon Balech Aqua and Maruun Aqua, engaged in easy, friendly conversation with them.
"Are they planning to form a team?" Kharom muttered the thought aloud, then turned his eyes back toward his grandfather.
"It is exactly as it appears." Sevrak’s tone remained flat, stripped of all emotion. "Whatever they intend is of no consequence to us. But the truth remains—among all races, it is already known that we Umbraens bear a personal grudge against the Velari. And if, knowing this, they still choose to ally with them, it can mean only one thing..."
His features hardened, and a wave of killing intent burst forth like a storm, freezing the breath in every Umbraen present. "The Aqualeth race does not fear us enough."
Kharom’s chest tightened under the weight of that bloodlust, yet fear did not take root. Instead, rage flared hotter inside him. "Rest assured, Grandfather. If they have forgotten what fear means, I will remind them."
"Good." Sevrak regarded his grandson with satisfaction and gave a slow, approving nod.
Pride and arrogance were woven into the Umbraens’ very blood. They saw themselves as the pinnacle of the Outer Region. To be disrespected, ignored, or plotted against behind their backs was something they would never forgive—nor ever let pass unpunished.
"I want you to pay particular attention to that black-suited practitioner of the Velari," Sevrak said, his words heavy with command. "When you face him, use your full strength. Leave nothing to chance—crush him with all your power."
—
While the Umbraens held their discussion, a similar conversation was unfolding among the Lunari.
Silverlight Zephan stood upon the gleaming back of his massive Silver Whale. His silver hair rippled gently in the breeze, his eyes shining with a brilliance like the sun—filled with wisdom as he murmured to the figure at his side.
"Thalira, never underestimate an enemy."
Thalira Luna stood tall, her presence radiating quiet strength. Though not as imposing as her father, the silver hair and eyes that marked the Lunari bloodline made her a vision of her race’s essence. She answered calmly, her voice steady.
"Yes, Father."
This was the first lesson instilled in every child of the Lunari Kingdom: to never belittle an opponent. As a warlike race, they would not allow even the smallest chance of defeat.
Seeing his daughter’s acknowledgment, Silverlight Zephan added, "Especially him." His gaze shifted toward Collossith’s enormous skull, where Adyr stood in calm silence. "Do not forget—he may be your greatest rival in this tournament and in the Legacy Domain soon to come."
A flicker of surprise crossed Thalira’s usually indifferent face. She turned to her father with a puzzled expression.
Until now, she had considered only two opponents worthy of special attention—Kharom of the Umbraens and Throgar Gorat of the Gorathim—both hailing from the strongest races of the Outer Region.
Compared to them, the Velari still seemed weak—even with Liora newly titled as a Practitioner. And Adyr, in her eyes, was merely a freshly emerged Rank 2, far too insignificant to justify her father’s warning.
Silverlight Zephan read the doubt in her eyes. His voice grew calm, yet weighty with the wisdom of centuries. "The Velari Kingdom has long teetered on the brink of collapse under the catastrophe of a Rank 4 Spark. They have bled countless Practitioners over the years. Yet now—miraculously—in mere days, they not only forced Collossith to retreat once, but have even subdued it. Tell me, what do you find most strange about this chain of events?"
A glimmer of understanding lit Thalira’s eyes, their silver glow blazing like sunlight. She whispered, "It all began after that man appeared."
Suspicion clouded her features. "Father, do you truly believe all of this is connected to him? To a Rank 2 Practitioner?" Her voice carried open disbelief, as if the very idea were no more than a child’s tale.
For over five years, the Velari had lost Rank 2s and even Rank 3s to the terror of that Spark. And now her father suggested a newly emerged Rank 2 might have played a hand in Collossith’s subjugation? To Her, it was an absurd idea.
"We have taught you one lesson above all others, my daughter." Zephan’s voice was low and steady, each word heavy with unshakable certainty. "Never underestimate an enemy—even when what stands before your eyes looks like nothing but an illusion."
The weight of his tone was like stone, as if centuries of battle and wisdom had been ground down into this single truth. It was not merely advice, but a creed carved into the very marrow of their bloodline.
—
"Whoa... look at the way they’re staring at us." Mirela’s voice faltered, the weight of countless sharp gazes pressing down on her—oppressive, suffocating.
"That’s only natural," Malrik chuckled from the side. "With Lady Liora standing here, a Rank 4 Spark wielder and now a Titled Practitioner, of course they’d feel threatened."
Liora’s lips curved slightly, her tone amused yet edged with seriousness. "No, Malrik. They’re not looking at me... they’re looking at Adyr."
Her bright brown eyes swept over the gathering, calm yet piercing. "They are all cunning foxes who have lived for centuries. It’s only natural—when they see a talent that could one day threaten their thrones, they can’t help but take notice."