Chapter 122: Boom ender

Chapter 122: Boom enderThe Announcer snapped his fingers.

Camber flinched.

Then exhaled.

"You’ve got one fight ahead of you," the Announcer said. "Any final words?"

Camber didn’t blink. "No."

A pause.

The Announcer laughed. "Perfect."

He twirled the mic again.

"Next."


The screen began spinning again. This time slower. Weighted.

Elias’s heart picked up. Not fear—just tension.



He didn’t recognize half the names flashing past. But he knew what came next. And when the screen stopped again—

He wasn’t surprised.

Ravel Cyn

Affiliation: Primed Epics

Status: Confirmed Enforcer Tier

Soul Energy: 125

Ikona: "Necklace"

Human Skill: Vessel Drag

Ikona Skill: Spinebite (1/5)

Ikona Tree: Threaded Marrow

The Announcer’s voice lowered.

"Well now."

The air grew denser.

"We’ve got a Primed Epic on the field."

Elias’s eyes widened.

He stood at the edge of the stands, Kikaru at his side, both of their Ikonas floating quietly behind them—Dot’s pulsing soft blue, Kikaru’s shifting her weight from heel to heel with those faint coils of silver trailing her wrists.

"Good our mouths aren’t shut this time," Elias muttered, glancing around. "But the murmurs are beyond annoying."

Kikaru tilted her head slightly, scanning the other platforms. "Yeah... but at least we get to see one of the Epics fight. Maybe even see one get taken out."

Elias didn’t respond right away. The pit in his stomach churned—not at the idea of battle, but what it meant. Death wasn’t a theory anymore. It had weight. Echo.

"I wonder where Paul is?" he asked finally.

Kikaru shrugged. "He’s probably around. Maybe even trying to make connections with other shard users."

Elias followed her gaze. The crowd stretched wide. Uniforms. Civilians. Faces he didn’t recognize—then a few he did. Silas stood three rows above, arms folded. Next to him—Elara. Vincent. And four others Elias couldn’t name, but could feel in the marrow of his bones. Each one like a puzzle piece that didn’t belong in the box.

"I wonder what would happen if people tried to fight here," Elias said quietly.

Kikaru exhaled, arms crossing. "I’d rather not find out."

Her eyes shifted again—landed on the platform below. "But just look at that guy."

Elias followed her stare. Ravel Cyn had fully materialized.

He wasn’t tall, not bulky—just built like wire pulled taut under skin. Shoulders sharp, posture straight. But it wasn’t his stance that caught the eye.

It was what floated behind him.

Necklace.

A loop of polished vertebrae circled Ravel’s back like a predator made of bone. Each segment drifted independently, never touching—always orbiting. Every so often, one of the vertebrae would pause mid-spin and tilt, like sniffing the air. Then resume.

It didn’t look dead.

It didn’t look alive.

It looked like it wanted something.

The Announcer clapped once—loud enough to silence the audience again. "Now that we’ve got our dancers on the floor," he said, voice bright, "let’s break down their rhythm, shall we?"

The screen behind him split in two. One side for Camber. The other for Ravel.



The Announcer stepped closer to Ravel’s side, mic flipping in his hand. "Let’s start with the obvious—two shards, highly attuned, confirmed Epic enforcer. Combat proficiency marked as systemic, volatile, and without hesitation."

He tapped one finger to the side of his head. "But that’s just the résumé. Let’s look deeper."

The screen behind him lit deep red.

???? Shard User: Ravel Cyn

???? Skill Tree: Threaded Marrow

???? Spinebite (2/5)

???? Segment Recall (2/5)

⚙ Dorsal Feed (2/5)

???? Reactive Twist (2/5)

???? Heartstring (LOCKED)

The Announcer took a single step back, giving the display room to breathe. His voice dropped slightly in volume, but not in weight.

"Spinebite. Those vertebrae aren’t just for show. Each segment floats, tracks, and when loosed—latches to your spine. If it sticks, your nervous system glitches. Your limbs stagger. Your own body works against you."

He rolled his wrist toward the second line. "Segment Recall. Let’s say Ravel’s been generous and left a few of those floating bones scattered around the field. This lets him call them home. But they don’t return gently. They carve their way back—the shortest, cruelest route possible."

He pointed to the third.

"Dorsal Feed. Every time you flinch from a hit—every wince, every stagger—he gains energy. Pain becomes currency. The more you suffer, the more he thrives."

The next icon glowed slightly brighter.

"Reactive Twist. It looks subtle until you realize his torso doesn’t obey gravity. Or anatomy. He pivots like he’s been dislocated on purpose, striking from impossible angles."

Finally, his hand hovered over the last.

"Heartstring. Still locked. Still waiting."

He smiled wide, all teeth and control. "That’s one half of the stage set."

Then the screen shifted—red bleeding into soft blue.

???? Shard User: Camber Tullis

???? Skill Tree: Cradling Faultline

???? Cradle Shell (3/5)

???? Echo Belly (2/5)

???? Slip Hold (2/5)

???? Kinetic Proxy (2/5)

???? Fracture Halo (LOCKED)

"Now," the Announcer said, walking slowly beneath the projection, "we pivot."

"Cradle Shell. Not armor. Not deflection. This ability triggers a living membrane between the hit and the body. The first strike never lands. Doesn’t matter if it’s a blade or a bone."

He pointed at the next.

"Echo Belly. Absorption turns to retaliation. Every blow he takes is stored—and later released. Not fire. Not light. Just raw, redirected force. The kind that knocks breath out through your teeth."

He gestured to the third.

"Slip Hold. Physical contact means nothing if you can’t keep it. Try to grip him, restrain him, drag him down? He slides through like fog under pressure."

The next skill appeared with a flicker.



"Kinetic Proxy. You move. He doesn’t. But your ribcage still caves in. His Ikona channels his intent into force—ghost strikes that land where he never was."

And the last.

"Fracture Halo. Still waiting."

The screens dimmed, folding inward and disappearing into the air like smoke drawn through glass.

The platform was quiet.

The Announcer looked to Camber.

"How do you like to fight?"

Camber’s voice was even. "I don’t."

A pause. Then: "But I finish them."

The Announcer turned.

"Ravel?"

Ravel’s head tilted slightly. "If I’m still standing when the pieces stop moving... that’s enough."