Previously on Watcher of the Infinite...
"My name is Banji. I was sent by my father to find the Scepter, but I found myself caught in a web of mortal lies. The Oracle warned me that the one closest to me would be the one to plunge the dagger into my back, and that betrayal would be the forge where the Dragon Slayer rises—the bridge between the mortal realm and the divine dragon blood. I was told to fight. I was told to survive.
Sarah, the woman I once protected, revealed her true face as Princess Sarai. She sold me to the Mongolian King, warning them that I was no ordinary man. She knew the fire inside me, even if the others only saw a laborer in chains. Now, the day of the match has arrived. The 'Fixers' have given me my orders: lose the fight or lose my life. But they don't understand—a Dragon does not take orders from a King."
The Mongolian Arena was a sea of bloodthirsty faces, a cacophony of roaring voices that sounded like a thousand crashing waves against a rocky shore. The sunlight hit the sand with a blinding, punishing intensity, reflecting off the gold silks of the royal balcony where Princess Sarai sat. Her expression was as cold as a mountain peak in mid-winter, a far cry from the woman who had shared "Plains-Fire" with me by a forest hearth. Below her, the 'Bettor's Pit' was silent, thick with the smell of expensive tobacco and the musk of anticipation. They had been promised an execution, and they were hungry for it.
I stood in the center of the ring, the heavy iron shackles rattling with every breath I took. The sand was hot beneath my feet, reminding me of the dusty paths back in the city, but here, the dust was mixed with the dried blood of those who had fallen before me. Opposite me stood Varkas—the so-called 'Legend' of the Mongolian pits. He was a mountain of scarred meat, his skin tattooed with the names of the men he had butchered. He didn't look like a warrior; he looked like a foreman who had grown too fond of the whip.
"So, you're the 'Destroyer'?" Varkas sneered, his voice booming over the crowd like a faulty megaphone. He spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the sand, his eyes flicking to the royal box with a sycophantic glint. "The Fixer told me you're a good little dog. He said you know how to roll over and play dead. But before I break your ribs, I want to thank your father for sending such a pathetic, weak-blooded pup into my arena. He must have been a coward to raise a son who sells his soul for a meat ration. Your father is probably a dog, just like you."
The air in the arena suddenly went still. The sound of the crowd—the cheering, the gambling, the insults—faded into a dull, white-noise hum in my ears. He had insulted the King of the Watchers. He had spat on the name of the one who sent me on this journey. My father.
[ADVANCED RAW SYSTEM: CRITICAL RAGE DETECTED]
STATUS:Berserker / Dragon-Slayer Protocol Initiated.
CORE OUTPUT:98.6% (Unleashed / Overload).
WARNING:Soul-Cuffs are melting. Mana-Dampeners are disintegrating at a molecular level.
SYSTEM NOTE:Buda... you've done it now. You let him talk about the 'Old Man'? In the 254, we say 'heshima kitu ya bure' (respect is free), but this guy just bought himself a one-way ticket to the afterlife with no return. The Genesis Core isn't just humming, maze—it's roaring like a lion that's been hungry for a thousand years. Don't just hit him, Banji. Show them what happens when you touch the pride of a Watcher. The Princess is standing up... her 'vibe' is panic. She knows the 'sherehe' is over. This is no longer a match; it's a reckoning!
VIBE CHECK:The atmosphere is electric. The sand is literally starting to float as the gravity fails.
I didn't use a sword. I didn't use a shield. I didn't even use my hands at first. I opened my mouth and spoke a single, ancient word in the high tongue of the Dragons—a magic word that acted like a celestial magnet, bending the very laws of physics to my will.
"VENI."
Varkas didn't even have time to blink. It was as if a cosmic vacuum had opened behind my heels. His massive body was yanked forward, his heavy iron boots dragging through the sand and carving deep trenches as he was pulled toward me like a piece of scrap metal flying toward a giant magnet. He screamed, his arms flailing, but the force was absolute and indifferent to his strength.
I met him halfway. My hand shot out, moving faster than the human eye could track. My fingers wrapped around his thick, scarred neck like iron talons, crushing the larynx instantly. The blue cosmic light of the Genesis Core flared so bright it blinded the front row of the audience, turning the golden arena into a world of pure, terrifying azure.
Crack.
The sound echoed through the silent stadium like a lightning strike hitting a dry acacia tree. Varkas's head lolled to the side at an impossible angle, his life extinguished before his body even hit the sand. The 'Legend' was dead in less than five seconds. He wasn't a legend anymore; he was just more meat for the pit.
The silence that followed was terrifying. Ten thousand people held their breath as the dust settled. Princess Sarai had dropped her wine glass, the red liquid staining her golden robes like a fresh wound. She knew. She knew the lion was out of the den, and the cage was no longer large enough to hold him. She saw the "Dragon Slayer" rising, the bridge between worlds manifesting in the form of a man who looked like a laborer but felt like a God.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE: UNLEASHED DIVINITY]
COMMAND:JUDGMENT PULSE.
AREA OF EFFECT:The Entire Kingdom.
ENERGY SIGNATURE:Watcher / Dragon Hybrid.
SENG NOTE:Wueh! Banji, what have you done? You didn't just kill the butcher; you've triggered the 'Dragon-Slayer's Curse.' Look at the crowd, Buda! They're not cheering anymore because they can't breathe! The mana coming out of you is a 'spell' that reflects their own cruelty back at them. It's absolute 'vifijo na nderemo' (chaos) but in reverse! The spectators are grabbing their throats, maze! The prisoners are the only ones standing! Tunasonga mbele to the throne! No more hiding, Banji! The 254 has officially taken over the Mongolian heights!
I didn't even know what I was doing. The power was flowing through me like a river of molten fire, a bridge of raw energy connecting the mortal world to the ancient dragon realm. I looked up at the royal balcony, at the terrified, beautiful face of the woman who had sold me for a title.
A pulse of pure, white-blue energy radiated from my chest, a "Judgment Spell" that rippled through the stands like a shockwave. I watched as the spectators, the soldiers, and the nobles who had cheered for my death suddenly clutched their heads. The cruelty they had enjoyed for years—the betting on lives, the blood-lust—turned inward. In their madness, they began to strike at each other, the entire kingdom falling into a self-inflicted slaughter as they saw their own sins reflected in the air.
Only the cages remained untouched. The prisoners—the laborers, the broken, the stolen ones from the streets—stood behind their bars, watching in awe as their captors fell like flies. I saw the old man from the cell next to mine; he was laughing, his eyes bright with a freedom he hadn't known in decades. The chains on the prisoner cages snapped simultaneously, the metal turning to dust as my aura expanded.
I began to walk toward the royal stairs, each step heavy and resonant, shaking the very foundations of the coliseum. The iron shackles on my wrists dripped away like liquid wax, the metal unable to withstand the heat of my presence. My eyes were no longer human; they were the swirling, cosmic nebulae of the Dragon-Slayer.
"Sarai," I whispered, and though I spoke softly, my voice filled every corner of the crumbling arena, vibrating in the marrow of her bones. "The game is over. The 'Destroyer' is dead. The Watcher has come to collect the debt. You sold a Dragon to a butcher, but you forgot that a Dragon eats the butcher and burns the shop."
As I ascended the stairs, the guards who tried to stop me simply disintegrated into ash before I even touched them. The "Dragon Slayer" had truly risen, and the bridge was finally open. The sky above the arena turned a deep, violent violet, as the ancestors themselves leaned down to witness the fall of the Mongolian house.
"Banji, stop!" she screamed, her voice breaking. But there was no mercy left in the heart of the one who had been traded like a goat at a market.
The screams of the dying kingdom were the only music left. I reached the royal balcony and stood before her, the blue fire of the Genesis Core illuminating the betrayal in her eyes. I didn't see a Princess. I saw a debt that needed to be settled.