[A/N: We have reached the Milestone of 100 Power Stones! Here are 5 Chapters Mass Release! The next Goal is a 1000!]

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Chapter 55: The Shattered Pride

The Royal Colosseum was a monument to blood and spectacle, built entirely of red sandstone and reinforced steel.

At high noon, the artificial sun of the Forge beat down mercilessly on the central sands.

The stands were packed to absolute capacity.

The entire aristocratic population of the Kingdom of Iron and Steam had gathered to watch a filthy goblin get executed by a High Elf.

The jeers and insults rained down from the stands as my squad and I stepped out of the iron gates.

"Look at the freak!"

"Sir Vaelen is going to mount that mechanical arm on his wall!"

"Kill the trench rat!"

I ignored the noise.

The roars of a weak crowd meant nothing to a Sovereign.

Rolf, Kaelith, and Nyssa stopped at the edge of the boundary line, watching my back with absolute, unwavering faith.

At the far end of the arena, Sir Vaelen stepped into the light.

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers.

He wore a brand new set of silver-etched plate armor that shined so brightly it hurt the eyes.

His long blonde hair flowed perfectly behind him, and his ornate, enchanted longsword crackled with pale blue lightning.

High above the sands, sitting in the luxurious Royal Box, King Alaric grinned greedily.

He leaned forward, wine goblet in hand, eager to see my head roll.

"This is the end of your pathetic rebellion, Goblin! Today, House Vane restores its honor, and you return to the dirt where you belong!" Sir Vaelen shouted, his voice amplified by a localized wind spell so the whole arena could hear.

I stepped into the center of the ring.

I drew my simple, heavy steel longsword.

I did not shout back.

I just let my D-Grade core pulse, a slow, heavy heartbeat of pure kinetic menace.

’Responding to his taunts was like Reading the Bible to a Donkey!’

The massive brass gong sounded.

The duel began.

Sir Vaelen did not hesitate.

He moved with the blinding, elegant speed characteristic of High Elven knights.

He crossed the fifty yards of sand in a silver blur, thrusting his lightning-coated blade directly at my throat.

It was a flawless, lethal strike meant to end the fight in a single second.

To the crowd, it looked like a guaranteed kill.

To my C-Grade Agility and [Sharp Eye], it looked like a child swinging a stick in slow motion.

’Slow!’

I did not even block.

I merely tilted my neck a fraction of an inch.

The crackling blade hissed past my ear, severing a single strand of my dark hair.

Vaelen’s eyes widened in sheer shock.

Before he could recover his balance, I channeled my mana.

"Let me show you real speed," I whispered.

I activated [Shadow-Weave: First Form Obsidian Slipstream].

The world around me seemed to freeze.

I perfectly synchronized my explosive Agility with my [Phantom Tread].

I did not just move fast; I stepped directly into the blind spot of Vaelen’s visual perception.

To him, and to the entire colosseum, I simply vanished into a burst of black static.

I reappeared instantly, standing directly behind him.

SHING.

I dragged the tip of my steel longsword across the back of his pristine silver armor.

The metal shrieked loudly, leaving a deep, ugly gouge right across the falcon crest of House Vane.

Vaelen spun around, panicked, swinging his blade wildly.

I slipped into the static again.

SLASH.

A shallow cut opened on his left cheek.

A bead of bright red blood dripped down his flawless, aristocratic face.

The crowd went dead silent.

The cheers died in their throats.

Their invincible knight was swinging at thin air, and the "trench rat" was systematically dismantling him without even trying.

"Is this the great Elven swordsmanship? You swing like a drunk tavern brawler." I taunted, my voice seeming to echo from all directions at once.

"Shut up! Face me, you coward!" Vaelen screamed, his composure completely shattering.

He unleashed a massive, sweeping wave of blue lightning from his blade, trying to hit me blindly.

I stepped back into reality, right in front of him.

As his desperate, overextended swing came toward my waist, I brought my steel sword up in a brutal, calculated parry.

I did not just block his blade; I struck the exact weakest point of his guard with the full, crushing weight of my C-Grade Strength.

CLANG!

The impact sounded like a cannon firing.

The shockwave vibrated through Vaelen’s arms.

The bones in his wrists cracked under the immense pressure.

He screamed in agony, his fingers giving out completely.

His ornate, enchanted longsword flew out of his hands, spinning through the air before embedding itself deep into the arena wall fifty feet away.

Vaelen stumbled backward, clutching his broken wrists, his eyes wide with raw, unadulterated terror.

He was disarmed, bleeding, and utterly humiliated in front of his King.

I looked at my own steel sword.

I casually tossed it onto the sand.

"We don’t need steel for this part," I said, a dark, feral grin spreading across my face.

The pneumatic valves in my mechanical Vanguard Arm began to hiss loudly.

Steam vented into the hot arena air.

"I want to feel you break."

Vaelen tried to backpedal, desperately trying to weave a defensive spell with his broken hands.

"Guards! Guards, stop him!"

I closed the distance in a single leap.

My hand shot out, grabbing him by the throat and lifting his feet clean off the ground.

He choked, clawing uselessly at my thick, olive-skinned arm.

I pulled my brass-plated left arm back.

The [Kinetic Charge] was fully stacked.

The internal boiler screamed with pent-up pressure.

"This is for the people you fed to the sewers," I snarled.

I drove my mechanical fist directly into his beautiful face.

CRACK.

His nose shattered instantly.

Blood and shattered teeth exploded outward.

I did not let him drop.

I kept him pinned by his throat, drawing back my piston-driven arm again.

SMASH.

My brass knuckles hammered into his chest plate.

The expensive silver armor buckled and caved inward, fracturing his ribs.

Vaelen let out a pathetic, wet gasp, completely stripped of his noble pride.

He was just a broken, terrified piece of meat.

"Please, I yield. I yield!" Vaelen gurgled, blood pouring from his mouth.

"There are no yields in a blood duel," I whispered, my glowing eyes burning into his terrified soul.

I dropped him to his knees.

I grabbed the front of his ruined breastplate with my hand, holding him steady.

I concentrated my aura, focusing the heavy, crushing pressure of a Goblin Lord into my brass fist.

I aimed not for his heart, but for the exact center of his sternum, directly where an Elf’s Mana Core resided.

HSSSSSS-BOOM!

I unleashed a maximum-pressure kinetic strike directly into his chest.

CRUNCH.

The sound was sickening.

It was the sound of a crystalline structure violently shattering into dust.

The kinetic shockwave blew straight through his back, blasting a crater into the sand behind him.

Vaelen’s body seized violently.

A pathetic, dying spark of blue magic sputtered from his mouth and eyes, and then went completely dark.

His Mana Core was annihilated.

He was not dead, but he would never cast a spell or lift a sword for the rest of his miserable life.

He was a permanent, broken cripple.

I dropped his limp, unconscious body into the dirt.

’This will keep him from interfering with me again!’

I stood tall over my ruined opponent, the steam rolling off my brass arm, and looked up at the Royal Box.

King Alaric was frozen, his face a mask of absolute, paralyzing horror.

The entire colosseum was trapped in a suffocating, terrified silence.

[Combat Concluded. Opponent completely subjugated.]

[Infamy increased drastically.]

While the King and the corrupt nobility were completely paralyzed by the gruesome spectacle in the colosseum, a different kind of war was being waged in the shadows of the city.

In the quiet, secure command center of the Iron Estate, Prime Minister Marquee Hardsteel stood before a massive, illuminated map of the Forge.

He was not watching the duel.

He was watching the lights on the map shift.

Behind him stood a dozen elite, heavily armed Clockwork Inquisitors, their brass armor polished and their weapons primed.

They reported directly to him, completely bypassing the Royal Guard.

"House Vane’s primary manor has been breached, Prime Minister, we found the hidden ledgers. The financial links to the Ashen Maw cult, the gold transfers, and the illegal blood-magic shipments. It is all documented." a shadow-operative reported, stepping into the room.

Hardsteel’s mechanical eye whirred softly.

"And the royal seals?"

"Present on every ledger, sir. The King’s personal seal authorized the tunnel clearances for the cultists."

Hardsteel closed his eyes for a brief moment.

The sorrow of a brother betrayed fought against the cold, calculated logic of a statesman.

Logic won.

The King had sold their people to monsters for gold.

The rot had to be excised from the very top.

"Deploy the sentinels, arrest every noble associated with House Vane. Seize their assets, lock down their armories, and secure the central treasury." Hardsteel commanded, his metallic voice devoid of any hesitation.

The operative bowed.

"And what of the Royal Palace, sir? What of the King?"

Hardsteel turned to look at the map.

The red lights symbolizing his brother’s loyalist outposts were systematically turning blue as his elite forces silently took control of the city’s infrastructure.

Grik had drawn the eyes of the entire corrupt court, giving the Prime Minister the perfect, bloody distraction to stage a bloodless coup.

"Leave the King in his box for now. Let him watch the goblin. Let him realize that his shield is broken. By the time he returns to his palace, he will find that he no longer has a kingdom to rule." Hardsteel said softly.