⟢───── Ashes × Aether ─────⟣
THE NATION OF X’OMMERA - THE UCL PLATINUM BRACKET MAIN EVENT
Officially three days after their first match, The UCL Announcers voice cut through the chaos of the arena.
“PLATINUM BRACKET DEBUT–”
The gong didn’t even finish its first ring.
Before the roar of the crowd could turn into anticipation, Talla held out a small acorn.
This one was different; capped with a white cylinder instead of the standard brown.
She threw it high over the center of the arena.
DINK—
A flash of white swallowed the entire arena for a heartbeat.
Then everything went black.
Absolute darkness.
The crowd was blind.
The announcers were blind.
Team Zero Hour was caught off guard and attempted to respond. Sigils lighting up under their feet.
But on the opposite side, inside the darkness. Riven moved.
Aether materialized into light taking the shape of twin scythes that tore free and spread wide, orbiting him in swift, deliberate rotation. He lifted two fingers.
Strummed.
The sound was soft. Almost playful.
Jaded Aether glided forward, low and clean, carving through the dark like a homing missile reaching out for its target.
A body lit up.
To the crowd, the sight was unfamiliar at first but the sound was unmistakable.
Aether cutting into flesh.
Riven’s Resoblades.
One of Zero Hour’s frontliners staggered as jade light traced along his torso, outlining his face for half a breath before the cut finished. It was Favi.
Favi screamed as the jade light danced through his body.
Gerrikko from Team Zero Hour tried to activate a sigil. A flash of orange flared in the dark for a second then went out as the next scythe ripped through him.
A pulse charge had built at his palm, timing tight, breath measured.
Riven shifted the rhythm.
The strike landed early.
The jade light split his forearm before the charge released. The energy detonated sideways, throwing him back as his own aether burned out through torn flesh.
Strum.
…Strum.
Rivens pattern never repeated.
Zero Hour moved, desperate now. Footwork broke. Spacing collapsed. One fighter rolled, expecting the next cut on the downbeat.
It came on the off.
His back arched as the jade line opened him from shoulder to hip, lighting his body like a broken wire before he hit the ground.
The third summoner, Jakey was probably the smartest Triple Kill had faced in the UCL.
He ran.
Straight toward the player tunnel.
The arena lights flickered back on as the backup generator kicked in.
Two bodies were already on the ground. Mutilated.
The crowd gasped, a wave of horror and disbelief.
Every eye snapped to Jakey, sprinting for his life.
Forfeiting a UCL match was against every rule…
Yet it felt like the whole arena was silently cheering for him to make it.
He didn’t.
The first ResoBlade carved through his lower back and punched out his chest.
The second was absolute overkill.
It curved in front of him, just long enough for him to see the jaded glow that would kill him.
Then it split his skull into two.
A beat passed where no one in the arena moved.
Thousands of people frozen mid-gesture. Hands half-raised, mouths open, drinks slipping from numb fingers.
A woman gagged three rows up.
Something that sounded like a glass bottle shattered against concrete.
Someone laughed once, before cutting themselves off using their hands to cover their mouth.
Jade light still clung to torn edges of flesh, pulsing once before fading. Blood ran in thin lines toward the floor channels, steam lifting where aether had burned too deep.
Most couldn’t look away.
Thousands of people who paid to be here. Who dressed up for violence. Who shouted ‘no rules’ and ‘finish them’ every other night.
Now they stood quiet, faces lit by the afterglow of cuts they couldn’t unsee.
The announcer’s voice came back online, thinner now. Almost reverent.
“Match… concluded.”
A pause too long for broadcast standards.
“Match point. Triple Kill.”
The name settled into the arena like forbidden weight.
High above, matchmakers stared at updated brackets. Rankings adjusted. Matchups recalculated. A new problem took shape.
On the floor, the arena lights held steady.
Triple Kill stood where they were.
And the crowd understood now. These were summoners shaped by pressure no one who grew up in the pleasure districts of X’Omnera could ever fully comprehend.
⟢───── Ashes × Aether ─────⟣