Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 342: Starpoint City’s Floating Arena

The next morning, the streets of Starpoint City buzzed with an anxious energy as Lassim walked beside Dorian toward the floating arena.

The sounds of crowded gondolas below mixed with the chatter of excited spectators and gamblers filled the air.

The sound of conversations, occasionally rising in heated debate, reverberated through the city as the tension of multiple companies’ livelihoods and the statuses of their contracts threatened to spill over.

"This way," Dorian gestured, leading Lassim.

Following him closely through the dense crowd, this part of the city had its elevated walkways leading toward the arena built to accommodate the dense crowds. They were built wider and Lassim’s spirit sense picked up that the support poles that were sunk into the river were much thicker.

Massive banners fluttered overhead, hanging from tall poles embedded into the platforms. They bore the insignias of various noble houses—as if to remind everyone who was in control of the kingdom and who the mining companies should be thankful to.

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A clearly new addition joined the weathered looking noble houses’s flags. The Steel Snake Sect’s emblem on a flag was present every odd grouping or so.

Beneath them, vendors were already setup with makeshift stalls hawking snacks, drinks, and even crude maps of the best seats in the arena’s layout. Their voices blended with the constant chatter of spectators and workers moving toward the arena, creating a symphony that was strange to Lassim. It was hardly joyous, almost at odds with the intrinsic festival-like nature of such an event.

"Is it always this busy on duel days?" Lassim asked, his gaze sweeping over the bustling streets.

"Worse, usually," Dorian replied with a bitter edge in his voice. "Since the Nobles began this farce, there were many more companies and individuals that came to fight for their company’s survival. There were hundreds of more individuals here just a few weeks ago. Now, every week that passes will mean less and less folks are able to stay afloat during the transition. Most are too prideful to have their contracts renegotiated with such horrible taxation that the Steel Snake Sect is wanting to add, so they just close up shop and eat the losses."

As he listened, Lassim’s spirit sense caught sight of the arena in the distance. Unlike the rest of Starpoint City, which exuded an elegant unity of opulent blue and silver design, the floating arena had a much harsher appearance.

It was a massive, circular platform suspended by colossal chains anchored to the adjacent elevated platforms. Metal elementally charged pillars surrounded the structure, their surfaces etched with glowing runes that pulsed in a steady rhythm, keeping the platform stable and sturdy. They also fueled the barrier that was clearly surrounding the arena.

Lassim could read the array runes and saw how it protected both inside attacks from spilling into the crowd, and potential interference from rowdy or angry spectators trying to influence the duels as well.

The crowd thickened the closer they got to the arena, huddled in clusters with their companies. Their voices were tense, their words filled with frustration and anger as they discussed each of their champions’ chances—or lack thereof—against Joryk Vrel.

"Every week, more and more companies are forced to gamble what little they have left too," Dorian muttered, his hands clenched into fists. "The Steel Snake Sect makes sure the nobles profit either way—whether through their bribes or gambling revenue. It’s sickening."

They passed through a checkpoint where guards stood watch. The guards, clad in silver and blue armor, glanced at Dorian with faint recognition before letting them pass.

Beyond the checkpoint, the atmosphere changed abruptly. The air felt heavier, the buzzing sharpness of the metal elemental mana from the arena’s barrier runes filled Lassim’s senses with every step.

It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was a different sensation than he was used to. He hadn’t noticed this level of elemental mana flow in the air around him with other barriers quite as clearly, but he had come to learn much more about how arrays worked and functioned at a fundamental level over the last 7 months. He realized that recognizing the patterns and transfer of energies was starting to become second nature to him.

"This is where they collect the bets," Dorian explained, interrupting his thoughts, pointing to a large dome-like structure adjacent to the arena.

The building’s exterior was lined with glowing array boards displaying odds for the upcoming matches. Groups of spectators crowded around, shouting out numbers to clerks stationed behind counters.

"Gambling is mandatory?" Lassim asked with a pointed tone.

Dorian shook his head. "Not mandatory, but heavily encouraged. The nobles make it clear that betting shows loyalty to the kingdom’s… ’justice.’ And for those with stakes in the Quarry, it’s a chance to claw back losses. Though, everyone is learning that the favorite is Joryk so the amount you win is quite low…"

A loud cheer erupted from the arena as they approached, the sound reverberating through the air.

Lassim could now see the entrance to the arena, a massive archway guarded by two imposing statues. One depicted a warrior clad in thick armor, wielding a shield inscribed with intricate runes. The other held a longsword, its blade pointed toward the sky.

"This is it," Dorian said, leading Lassim toward a side entrance reserved for the different company representatives. The din of the crowd grew louder as they stepped inside, the enclosed space amplifying the noise.

The hallway leading to the viewing area was narrow and dimly lit, the walls lined with banners of participating companies that still had contracts left to renegotiate, like a giant wall of shame. Dorian paused in front of a banner bearing the insignia of the Duskvale Mining Company.

"What’d I tell you about the slander… hung this one lower than the others," he said bitterly. "Just another not-so-subtle message from the Steel Snake Sect."

Lassim studied the banner for a moment before following Dorian into the viewing area.

The arena opened up before them, a vast circular space ringed by tiered seating. The platform’s edges were lined with the shimmering metal mana barriers, their faint glow creating an otherworldly effect but still very transparent to allow easy viewing.

At the center of the arena stood Joryk Vrel, or at least whom Lassim assumed was Joryk. The man fit the description as the individual was a hulking figure encased in shimmering metal armor. His presence alone seemed to command the attention of everyone in the arena.

Lassim’s eyes narrowed as he studied Joryk, his gaze dissecting every detail of the man’s stance and features. He radiated an aura of unshakable confidence, his armor gleaming under the sunlight with a shit-eating grin, as if mocking all the challengers and companies in attendance today.

"This is who you’ll be up against," Dorian said, his voice low.

As Lassim and Dorian settled into their seats, the buzz of the arena reached a crescendo. The tiered stands were filled with spectators—nobles in their lavish private boxes, company representatives seated in designated sections, and regular citizens who had managed to find a seat for the spectacle. The tension was palpable, a mixture of forced excitement and suppressed dread.

A sharp, amplified voice cut through the noise, silencing the crowd instantly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed representatives of our dear Stellanora Kingdom, and honored guests who’ve taken up the causes from afar—welcome to the wonderful Floating Arena of Starpoint City!"

The voice belonged to a nobleman standing on a raised platform at the far end of the arena. His richly adorned robes glittered with silver and blue embroidery, the colors of the kingdom. His green hair was slicked back, and a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips as he gestured grandly like a conductor to the crowd.

"I, Lord Verant Arven, have the distinct pleasure of officiating today’s matches," he announced with a voice dripping of condescension. "A day where contracts are honored, disputes resolved, and, of course, the justice of the kingdom is displayed for all to see!"

Dorian muttered under his breath, "Justice, my ass."

Lassim said nothing, his gaze sharply fixed on the Master of Ceremonies.

Lord Verant continued, "Today’s roster features a series of duels that will determine the fate of several of our dear local companies. Champions will fight not only for their contracts to be unaltered and continued but for the pride and survival of their enterprises!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, though Lassim noticed that all of the company representatives clapped reluctantly, as if being forced to by the watching eyes of the nobles in the higher tier seats, their expressions grim and dark.

"And, of course," Lord Verant added, his smirk widening, "we are graced by the presence of Joryk Vrel, the Steel Snake Sect’s own champion. A man undefeated in this arena so far, a testament to the strength and skill of our new collaborators!"

Joryk, still standing in the center of the arena, raised a gauntleted hand to acknowledge the cheers coming from the highest tier of seats.

"Now," Lord Verant continued, "let us begin! The first match of the day pits the noble champion of the Emberforge Company, a Spirit Transcendence Level 7 fire elemental cultivator, against none other than Joryk Vrel!"

A roar of cheers of support for the challenger surged from the crowd as the opposing fighter stepped into the arena.

"Representing the Emberforge Company: Tarven Aedric, a Spirit Transcendence Level 7 cultivator of the fire element! He’s more well known from his stage name at the taverns, he’s the one and only Blazing Maestro! His control over flame and song with the mastery of his unique Elemental Spirit Weapon, the Ember Lute, will surely stand a chance?!"

The crowd’s murmurs and cheers of support grew louder as Tarven came into view.

His fiery red hair seemed to reflect the heat radiating from his body, and his stylish orange top and red hot pants shimmered faintly as if the flames within him threatened to spill outward.

His Elemental Spirit Weapon—the Ember Lute—manifested in his hands with a dramatic flourish of his hands, glowing with a fiery brilliance. The polished wood-like surface pulsed with ember-like veins, and the strings stretched taut, radiating a heat that made the air around it seem to warp slightly.

Lassim tilted his head, intrigued by a fire elemental spirit warrior using an instrument for a weapon. It was well known and more common that instrument welders were often more favored by the Goddess of wind, Ikmera. For Ribus, the patron deity of the Vanthar family and God of Flame to gift Tarven with his elemental was quite interesting.

Tarven didn’t waste time. As soon as he took his position, he strummed a bold chord. Not only did the sound ignited into a wave of flames that rippled across the arena floor, but the crowd also seemed incensed as they grew excited.