Chapter 197: Dawn Blast

Chapter 197: Dawn BlastKikaru’s head turned, her breath catching as the stands above erupted in light, the ninety‑one Shard Users vanishing into particles that shimmered like fireflies before fading into nothing.

The sound of the crowd’s sudden absence hit harder than any roar—one instant a wall of tense murmurs, the next a vacuum that swallowed every stray echo.

Holo‑screens winked out, leaving behind dark glass panes that reflected a realm now stripped of witnesses, and the temperature seemed to drop with the spectators’ departure, as though their collective life‑heat had been fueling the arena’s glow.

Small, pale forms remained—ghostly echoes of their Ikonas, trembling in the air—before they, too, dissolved, leaving the platforms empty, the realm silent save for the hum of the portal and the faint pulse of the veins beneath.

That portal’s green‑black cyclone growled on, its static crackle gnawing at the edges of her hearing, a reminder that the rules she trusted were already bending.

Her good eye widened, her hands tightening around the shard pieces, the jagged edges cutting deeper into her palms as she turned her gaze back to the figure, her chest tight with a fear she couldn’t name.

A single heartbeat pulsed beneath her sternum, slow and deliberate, as if her body needed extra time to decide whether to freeze or flee.

The man’s cloak rippled as he moved, the red lining catching the torchlight, a stark contrast to his pale skin, his white hair shifting like a curtain as he stepped closer.


Each step erased distance without haste, as though the ground itself realigned to greet him; faint stress fractures spider‑webbed beneath his boots before sealing over, unwilling to betray his passage.



In the blink of an eye, he was before her, his hand inches from her face, small claws glinting, the air around him cold, heavy with intent.

A metallic tang—half ozone, half iron—clung to his presence, pricking the back of her throat and forcing a swallow that scraped like gravel.

The portal behind him flared once in recognition, then dimmed, cowed by something stronger than its own turbulence.

Kikaru’s eyes widened, her breath stopping as she leaned back, the shard pieces slipping in her grip, her Ikona flaring weakly at her back, its golden light stuttering against the darkness of his presence.The Announcer moved faster than she’d ever seen, his polished shoes skidding on the unseen ground as he lunged, shoving her aside with a force that sent her sliding across the plane.

Panic overrode poise; the tailored blazer flared behind him like a signal flag, and for one jarring second she saw the wires beneath the showman’s smile—raw survival instincts, nothing rehearsed.

She hit the ground hard, her shoulder scraping against the smooth surface, the shard pieces clattering beside her as she caught herself, palms stinging.

Tiny sparks of blue skipped away from the fragments, winked out, leaving pinpricks of after‑image that stung her vision.

The Announcer landed on the other side of the arena, his lenses flashing, his voice sharp with a panic she’d never heard from him before.

"You were supposed to go back as well, deary," he said, his tone clipped, almost accusatory, as he adjusted his blazer, sweat still rolling down his sides.

The gesture failed to hide a tremor running the length of his forearm, or the way his chest hitched two beats too fast for the words he was forming.

"Don’t tell me you can reject going back already."

Even the microphone’s auto‑leveling couldn’t mask the crack; the last syllable skewed upward like a plea.

Kikaru pushed herself up, her hands trembling as she gathered the shard pieces, their blue glow flickering against her skin.

Blood smeared across her fingers where the stone cut deep, yet the sting felt distant—secondary to the thunder in her ears.

She stared upward at the figure, her good eye wide, searching his unreadable face, the pale blue‑white of his skin glowing faintly in the torchlight.

Each heartbeat stretched, measuring the impossible distance between the power he radiated and the power she still held.

"I... I have no idea what’s going on," she said, voice raw, breaking on every word, her breath shallow as she tried to make sense of the chaos, the portal, the man who’d appeared from nowhere.

Some part of her noted the Announcer’s backward shuffle, the way his polished shoes scuffed lines into the pristine floor—evidence of fear he could no longer script away.



Her gaze dropped to her hands, to the two pieces of Elias’s shard, their jagged edges catching the light, the blue glow pulsing faintly, a heartbeat she couldn’t ignore.

The glow seemed to answer the rhythm inside her chest, syncing for a moment before slipping out of time, like a duet missing its lead.

She swallowed, her throat dry, as she looked back at the figure, her voice trembling but steadying with each word.

"Did you... did you take half of Elias’s shard?" she asked, her fingers tightening around the fragments, the pressure in her chest building as she waited for an answer, as she tried to understand what was happening to him, to Dot, to the world she thought she knew.A scream cut through the realm, sharp and desperate, echoing from the far side of the arena—Dot’s voice, shredded by terror.

The sound split the silence like metal tearing, and every torch flinched lower, as though the flame itself tried to hide.

Kikaru’s head snapped toward it, pulse stamping against her ribs, her good eye widening at the sight that waited in the half‑light.

The pale man held Dot between two clawed fingers, pinched at the midpoint of her glow the way a child might hold a moth, careful not to crush yet fully in control.

Blue radiance spasmed around the tiny Ikona, surging and faltering, each pulse shorter than the last as she thrashed against his grip.

In his other hand he cradled a single fragment of Elias’s shard—the half Kikaru thought still safe in her palm—its glow brightening in direct response to his touch, as if drawn to an owner it suddenly recognized.

Cracks of raw energy licked across the uneven edges, shedding sparks that fizzled out before touching air, leaving soft scars in her vision.