Final Regression of The Legendary Swordmaster-Chapter 102: The Predator Enters the Arena

The Northern Sea did not roar without reason.

For three days and three nights, the waters had churned with unnatural violence. Waves rose higher than castle walls and then collapsed into black depths that seemed to swallow light itself. Thunder rolled across the horizon even when the sky remained clear. Mana saturated the air so heavily that even ordinary soldiers felt pressure in their lungs.

This was not a storm.

This was anticipation.

On the fourth morning, the horizon was lined with ships.

War fleets from every major kingdom had gathered at a calculated distance from one another. Massive steel-hulled vessels from the Iron Duchy cut through the waves like blades. Their hulls were reinforced with rune-etched plating, and long banners bearing the symbol of crossed swords snapped in the wind. Discipline radiated from their decks. Warriors stood in silent formation, armor polished, eyes forward.

Not far from them, gleaming white-and-gold ships from Luminaries floated on radiant mana arrays rather than sails. Pillars engraved with sun emblems shone brightly, projecting defensive barriers around the fleet. Adepts in synchronized ranks stood ready to disembark in perfect coordination.

Further out, Vaeloria’s vessels hovered entirely above the sea, suspended by levitation circles rotating beneath them. Their decks glowed with layered formations. Archmages stood calmly, robes flowing in currents of mana that had no visible source.

In the distance, dark shapes moved along the surface of the water. Ondaris ships did not rise high. They rode low and stable, hulls shaped like streamlined sea creatures. Waves seemed to part more gently around them, as if the sea recognized its own.

To the west, forest-green banners marked the fleet of Silvanus. Great beasts moved between ships, some winged, some scaled. Mana wolves paced along the decks. Druids stood with hands resting on living staves grown from ancient trees.

Southward, Solterra’s vessels burned. Flame pillars rose intermittently from their prows, dispersing heat into the air. Even the sea seemed to hiss in protest near them.

And farther north, near the ice line, pale ships of Aethelgard floated in cold stillness, frost forming along their masts. The air around them shimmered with restrained blizzards waiting for release.

Each kingdom had arrived in strength.

Each believed itself prepared.

Each believed this moment marked the beginning of conquest.

The sea trembled.

Then it split.

A deep sound rolled across the water, low and ancient, like stone grinding against stone at the bottom of the world. The waves did not simply crash. They were forced apart. Water retreated violently in two massive walls, exposing a dark, submerged expanse beneath.

From the depths, something rose.

Colossal stone structures emerged slowly, shedding water in cascading torrents. Archways taller than mountain gates pushed upward from the ocean floor. Their surfaces were carved with runes older than any kingdom present. The inscriptions glowed faint blue at first, then brighter, then brilliant.

Mana pressure descended like gravity.

Many soldiers instinctively bent their knees. Some Adepts felt their cores tremble. Even seasoned warriors narrowed their eyes.

The Gates of Atlantis had risen.

The sea continued to part, forming a massive corridor of exposed seabed leading toward the archways. Beyond them lay darkness. Not emptiness. Not void. Something structured. Something waiting.

For a moment, silence claimed the horizon.

Then pride moved first.

From the Iron Duchy fleet, a war horn sounded.

Deep.

Commanding.

Aurelion’s expedition force stepped forward in disciplined formation. The 6-Star Sword Master stood at their head, sword resting across his shoulder. His aura sharpened the air around him. Cracks formed briefly in the wet seabed beneath his boots as he stepped onto the exposed path.

Behind him marched elite warriors and the Peak True Mage escort. No hesitation marked their advance. No visible doubt.

Luminaries moved next.

Radiant formations activated in synchronized layers. Adepts formed geometric arrays that projected shields and amplification circles simultaneously. Their commander raised a hand, and beams of light stabilized the uneven terrain before them. They advanced with coordinated brilliance, golden mana illuminating the corridor.

Vaeloria did not rush.

Their mages hovered forward in elegant arcs, mana platforms forming beneath their feet as needed. Formation circles rotated calmly. Calculation showed in every movement. They did not need to appear dominant. They simply were.

Silvanus unleashed a roar.

Beasts leaped from ships onto the exposed seabed. Mana wolves sprinted ahead. A massive serpent slithered forward, lightning vines coiling along its scales. Druids advanced beside them, moving in organic rhythm with their companions.

Solterra followed with explosive presence.

Flame cultivators launched themselves forward in arcs of fire, landing hard and igniting the ground beneath them. Heat distortion followed in their wake.

Ondaris walked the wet earth as if it were familiar territory. Tidal currents formed beneath their boots, stabilizing their footing. They moved without hurry.

Aethelgard advanced in cold silence, frost spreading lightly over the exposed path behind them.

One by one, banners crossed the threshold.

Mana surged brighter as the first expeditions stepped beneath the colossal stone arches.

Each believed they were stepping into legend.

At the far edge of the gathering, separated from every war fleet, stood three figures.

No banner fluttered above them.

No armor gleamed.

No aura flared outward to announce their strength.

They stood upon a modest mana platform that hovered just above the sea surface. Their clothing was practical, unmarked. Their faces were unremarkable.

Edward stood at the center.

To his right stood Thaleia, her posture straight, her gaze fixed forward.

To his left stood Valerius, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

They looked like minor participants.

They looked like an afterthought.

No one paid them any attention.

Edward watched.

He did not observe with curiosity.

He observed with confirmation.

The Iron Duchy would push too far into the outer flooded ruins on their first advance. Their pride would draw early confrontation.

Luminaries would attempt to secure a radiant outpost and overextend their mana reserves in synchronized casting.

Solterra would clash with Silvanus within the first two days over territorial dominance near the second ruin tier.

Vaeloria would remain cautious, calculating, but even they would misjudge one hidden chamber.

He had seen it before.

Hundreds of times.

Thousands.

He knew which alliance would form first.

He knew which would fracture by the third day.

He knew the location of the first relic hidden beneath collapsed pillars two leagues inside the outer zone.

He knew who would die before the second sunset.

The sea wind pressed lightly against his cloak.

Thaleia swallowed.

The mana pressure around the gates was suffocating. Even with the illusion spell masking them, she could feel the weight of gathered power from every kingdom. She glanced briefly toward Edward.

He did not move.

Valerius tightened his grip on his sword.

His instincts screamed that waiting while others advanced was dangerous. Yet he trusted Edward’s silence more than any war horn.

Expedition forces continued to cross.

The exposed seabed began to tremble faintly as mana stabilized deeper within the corridor. Water walls remained parted but unstable.

Time passed.

More than half the gathered forces had entered.

The initial arrogance had already faded into focus and caution as the reality of the mana density became clear.

Edward’s eyes tracked movements without visible emotion.

The first Iron Duchy vanguard was about to trigger a submerged pressure formation beneath the arch.

Three steps more.

Two.

There.

A faint distortion in the mana field rippled.

He already knew the casualty count.

He did not blink.

Thaleia exhaled slowly. "Should we not move soon?" she asked quietly.

Edward’s gaze remained fixed ahead. "Not yet."

Another kingdom’s expedition entered.

Another.

The corridor began to narrow slightly as the sea strained against whatever ancient force held it back.

Valerius shifted his stance. "If we wait too long—"

"We will not," Edward replied calmly.

The pressure intensified.

The last of Luminaries’ primary force crossed.

Vaeloria’s main body disappeared beneath the arch.

Silvanus beasts roared faintly in the distance.

Solterra flames dimmed as they passed beyond sight.

The sea groaned.

Edward finally stepped forward.

"Now."

No emphasis.

No raised voice.

Just certainty.

Their mana platform dissolved.

They descended onto the exposed seabed and began walking.

No formation activated around them.

No aura flared.

They did not hurry.

The colossal stone arches loomed above, runes blazing brighter as if reacting to the thinning presence of initial entrants.

Mana pressed against Edward’s senses like a familiar weight.

He had stood here countless times.

He remembered the first regression. The confusion. The chaos. The miscalculation.

He remembered the hundredth. The refined routes. The early harvesting.

He remembered the thousandth. The complete understanding.

The corridor trembled again as the sea walls strained.

Thaleia’s heartbeat quickened as they passed beneath the arch.

For a brief moment, her ears rang.

The world shifted.

Pressure inverted.

Then stabilized.

They emerged into Atlantis.

Behind them, the sea walls began to collapse.

Water surged violently back into place, sealing the path.

The Gates remained standing, but the corridor was gone.

Access was now limited to the ancient mechanisms within.

Edward did not look back.

Before them stretched the outer flooded ruins.

Stone structures half submerged in shallow water extended in every direction. Broken pillars jutted upward like the bones of something ancient. Mana currents drifted through the air in slow spirals.

Distant flashes of light marked early engagements between kingdoms and the environment.

Shouts echoed faintly.

Explosions of mana flared.

The arena had opened.

Thaleia felt the scale of it settle into her bones.

Valerius drew his sword slowly, scanning the terrain.

Edward walked forward without hesitation.

He did not need to scan.

He knew where the first relic lay.

He knew which submerged stairwell would lead to the Labyrinth entrance.

He knew where not to step.

He knew the timing of the first major confrontation between Solterra and Silvanus would distract observers to the western flank.

He knew Vaeloria would dispatch scouts northward, leaving a temporary gap along the eastern ruin line.

He knew.

And because he knew, he did not feel excitement.

He felt inevitability.

Thaleia glanced once more toward the distant flashes of battle.

"So it begins," she whispered.

Edward’s expression did not change.

"It already ended," he said quietly.

Valerius frowned slightly at the words but did not question them.

They moved deeper into the ruins.

Unnoticed.

Unremarkable.

The kingdoms believed they were entering Atlantis.

They did not realize Atlantis had already been conquered countless times.

And the predator had just entered the arena once more.