The battlefield had fallen silent.
Cracked platforms floated across the wreckage, their runes flickering weakly. The bodies of defeated champions—some shattered, some disintegrated—were being pulled away by automated retrieval spells. The sky overhead rumbled faintly, as if the laws themselves were waiting.
High above, from the central tower of the auction grounds, the Spiremaster spoke again. His voice echoed across the arena, carried by layered spells that made each word cut through the silence like a blade.
"So, it comes to this," he said. "Only two remain."
A faint murmur ran through the audience as screens and scrying mirrors focused in on the last two contenders still standing in the Ashen Conflux.
"Asher, the Crimson Blood Sovereign," the Spiremaster continued, his tone sharp and unflinching. "Bearer of the Sanguine Supreme legacy. Slayer of Void Cultists, breaker of Sovereign Seals, and the man who has walked untouched through thirty-seven fatal confrontations today."
