Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 343: The Fortress, Joryk Vrel

The fiery wave that surged from Tarven’s Ember Lute danced across the arena floor, its heat palpable even from Lassim’s distant seat despite the protective barrier between them. The Spirit Transcendence stage flames roared toward his opponent in a blazing display.

Joryk, standing motionless at the center of the arena, made no effort to dodge or retaliate. His silver sheen—metallic mana rose from within his inner heart world and condensed on top of his skin further into armor-like layers over his entire body through his signature [Fortress] technique. It gleamed under the approaching glare of the raging flame. The liquid looking metal mana encasing his form shimmered briefly before solidifying into a matte consistency, adjusting to the heat. Joryk’s mouth froze into a smirk as if mocking the very flames hurtling toward him.

The flames struck with a deafening roar and explosion that shook the floating arena.

For a moment, the inside of the barrier of the arena was engulfed in fire, the intense heat rippling across the protective mana barrier that separated the fighters from the spectators. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, excitement mounting as the blaze seemed to overwhelm everything, but with Joryk’s position at the very heart of the flames.

But when the blaze receded, Joryk was still there, unscathed and not even a single scorch mark anywhere on him.

His body, now gleaming with a red hot glow, seemed to absorb the energy of the attack as it rapidly cooled. The liquid metal of his armor quickly transitioned back to the cool silver as if it had fed on the heat itself, becoming more vibrant and radiant after the quenching.

The steel mana went liquid again as Joryk’s eyes locked on Tarven. With a deep, cold and unyielding reply he said, "A waste of mana. That all, bard boy?"

The crowd roared, half in admiration and half in disbelief. Tarven’s expression remained serious, but a flicker of doubt crossed his features.

Unfortunately, he’d planned and hoped that his stronger flames would end the fight right from the beginning—melting Joryk down, so much so that he’d need to submit and give up. Tarven didn’t have much else to try, but he was hired by the Emberforge Company and promised to give his all.

"Let’s see how you handle this!" Tarven shouted, his fingers flying over the strings of the Ember Lute. A sharp, frantic melody filled the air as another wave of flames burst forth. This time, they came in rapid successions, precise arcs of fire, like little streams of flames, aimed to strike Joryk from multiple angles at once.

Still, Joryk didn’t move again.

Instead, the liquid sheen of his metallic armor rippled, the silver surface hardening further in response to the incoming attacks. When the flames collided, they skidded off the surface harmlessly, as though striking an impenetrable barrier. His [Fortress] ability living up to its namesake.

"He’s absorbing the energy," Lassim murmured, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the interaction with his spirit sense through the barriers. "The technique… I’d be interested in knowing how exactly he transfers the energy into making his own armor stronger like that."

Dorian’s face tightened beside him. "That’s [Fortress] for yah. He doesn’t need to dodge because nothing can touch him. The heavier he becomes, the harder it is for anyone to breach his guard. I’m also not quite sure how it works. If he made that public he’d lose a lot of his advantage in his duels, so I imagine that’s why it’s so well guarded."

In the arena, Tarven wasn’t giving up. He strummed a series of staccato notes, the Ember Lute pulsing with power as jets of flame erupted in an intricate and flowery pattern, encircling Joryk.

The fire danced closer, tightening the noose around the Steel Snake Sect champion, the air shimmering and bending under the oppressive heat.

Half of the crowd leaned forward in their seats, captivated by the display and praying for Tarven’s win. Tarven’s strategy was simple and clear: to trap Joryk in a relentless inferno and force him to possibly overload himself with the energy and risk being consumed.

The audience instinctively shuddered and leaned back again as Joryk finally reacted.

The nine-layered halo of his peak Spirit Transcendence Stage cultivation ignited above his head, illuminating the arena with its oppressive light and the sheer weight of his sharp metallic spiritual pressure surged outward, somewhat suffocating the flames as though snuffing out a candle.

He raised a single gauntleted hand, and with a slow, deliberate motion, slammed his foot heavily into the arena’s floor.

The ground beneath him quaked as spikes erupted from the surface of his greaves. A torrent of jagged, silver projectiles shot toward Tarven with deadly precision.

Tarven’s eyes widened, and he leaped backward, strumming a chord in defense that erupted into a wall of fire. The flames attempted to and mostly succeeded to incinerate many of the spikes, but still, several broke through forcing him to roll to the side to avoid being impaled.

"That armor is his weapon too," Lassim muttered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the flames and melodies from the arena.

Tarven countered, his notes becoming more desperate, more frenetic. Each chord unleashed another barrage of flames, some forming defensive barriers while others targeted Joryk directly. But no matter how intense the heat of the attacks, they only glanced off Joryk’s metallic exterior or were absorbed entirely after turning him red for a few minutes at a time.

"This definitely is a losing strategy—playing right into Joryk’s hands," Lassim noted grimly. "All he’s doing is feeding that technique."

Dorian nodded, his fists clenched. "That’s why Joryk doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to. The moment you engage, you’re already fighting his battle."

Back in the arena, Tarven was visibly tiring. His breath came in ragged gasps, his flames losing their ferocity. Sweat poured down his face, making his elegant clothing damp with sweat stains as he strummed another desperate chord, sending a wave of flame toward Joryk in a last-ditch effort.

Joryk didn’t wait for the flames to reach him this time. With another stomp of his foot, more spikes erupted from him, surging forward in a synchronized wave. This time, they curved midair, homing in on Tarven from all directions.

The Ember Lute shrieked as Tarven attempted to defend himself, the sound of the strings sounding like they were about to snap, but the sheer volume of spikes was overwhelming.

One after another, they pierced through his flame barrier defenses, impaling him in the shoulder, the leg, the side and his ribs. The final spike drove through his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The crowd gasped, a mixture of awe and horror. Blood pooled around Tarven’s crumpled form, the light of the Ember Lute flickering and dimming as it clattered to the floor beside him.

Lord Verant’s voice boomed across the arena. "And the winner is…ONCE AGAIN… JORYK VREL!"

The nobles in their private boxes erupted into applause, their cheers a sharp contrast to the grim silence of the Emberforge Company representatives, and all of the other mining or merchant companies below.

Medics rushed into the arena to tend to Tarven, who was alive but gravely injured.

Lassim watched in silence, his jaw clenched as the spectacle continued.

Joryk turned, his grin wide and unrepentant, and raised a hand in acknowledgment of the nobles’ applause before continuing to stand in the center of the arena.

The next several duels followed a similar pattern.

Each challenger brought their own unique style and strategy, hoping to find a weakness in Joryk’s impenetrable defense.

One fighter, a Spirit Transcendence Level 8 cultivator wielding a whip-like water elemental spirit weapon, attempted to flood the arena and erode Joryk’s footing or drown him.

But Joryk’s spikes were unaffected by the waters and he’d long since fought similar attempts to drown him in the past. With his own breathing technique activated, he turned the water into a trap, catching the whip around one of his limbs and impaling the challenger in the process.

Another fighter, a wind elemental cultivator with a pair of chakrams, tried to outmaneuver Joryk with blinding speed and a thousand wind slices—hoping to catch exposed skin. Yet Joryk’s spikes that were shot and embedded into the walls suddenly shot from their holes and created a deadly net that forced the challenger into a corner, where a final barrage from Joryk’s position at the center of the arena ended the duel.

By the end of the day, ten companies in total had their champions lose to the Steel Snake Sect. Their banners on the edges of the arena, once displayed with pride as sponsors of the kingdom, now hung as symbols of defeat. Workers went to go and slowly roll them up as the MC called for the closing of this week’s matches, much to the sadness and tears amidst the crowd.

The atmosphere in the arena had grown heavy, the initial hopefulness that they’d be saved by their hired chosen only replaced by a grim resignation.

The nobles cheered louder with each victory throughout the day, while the company representatives watched in silence, their hopes dwindling with every match.

Lassim clenched his fists, his stormy spiritual pressure flickering faintly around him. The lightning bolts in his eyes, still maintaining the slight swirl that’d gained recently, jut out with more sparks of lightning as his mood was incensed.

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The unfairness of the situation was palpable, the manipulation of the duels against a difficult opponent from the Steel Snake Sect, and the nobles, was an insult to everything these companies had built their livelihoods on.

Sensing Lassim’s growing anger, Dorian said quietly, "Still think you have a chance to beat him after today? Do you really wish to risk my company after what you saw?"

Lassim didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Joryk, who stood in the center of the arena, basking in the adulation of the nobles.

"I’ll do more than that," Lassim said finally, his voice low. "I’ll make them remember why the Lightning Sect is the number one in the Southern Continent, and teach them not to mess with our deals. Also, I think I want to make things even worse for the Steel Snake Sect—really teach them a lesson. I have an idea…"