Godstealer-Chapter 31: Ashes on The Sand

The sand of the arena shifted strangely today.

It wasn't an illusion — even the gods on the high tables leaned forward, their wine and arrogance momentarily forgotten.

Above, storm clouds crackled, dripping ash instead of rain.

The ground trembled, crumbling into floating platforms suspended over endless voids.

A trial of endurance. A trial for the damned.

And standing there, barefoot, broken, bleeding internally, was Dante.

His heartbeat echoed in his ears.

He couldn't tell anymore if it was from exhaustion or rage.

The voice of the Trickster raged in his skull:

"You stupid, stubborn bastard! You won't last like this! They're setting you up to DIE!"

Dante wiped the blood from his mouth.

He smiled, cracked and wild.

"I know," he whispered back.

A figure emerged across the arena — a titan of a man, armored in black plates, steam rising from his body.

His reputation preceded him: Vokar, the Crusher.

A fighter who didn't kill by skill — but by time.

By breaking your will to live.

The gong sounded.

And the trial began.

The first blow came like thunder.

Vokar slammed his axe into the platform, sending shockwaves that tore through the air.

Dante dodged — barely.

His bones screamed in protest.

Blood sprayed from his lips.

Another hit like that would tear him in half.

Above, Idris — the War God — smiled faintly, his eyes glowing like twin suns.

"Let's see how long you can dance, little hybrid," he murmured.

Hidden, unseen to mortals, Idris's will twisted the arena itself.

Nightmares coiled around Dante's mind.

First came the illusions:

Willow, gutted and bleeding out.

The girl he had saved, tied up again, screaming his name.

His father, his mother — their bodies piled high, faceless, forgotten.

Dante stumbled.

The crowd's cheers twisted into jeers in his ears.

"You failed."

"You're alone."

"You're nothing."

He dropped to one knee, coughing violently. Blood stained the sands around him.

The Trickster's voice was distant now, frantic.

"Snap out of it, Dante! They're not real! None of it's real!"

But the weight was crushing.

The curse of age 24 had begun to eat him alive.

Somewhere backstage, the girl — the hybrid he had saved — fought to stand.

Her body was weak, but her spirit burned.

She staggered toward the viewing crystal, pressing her bloodied hand against it.

Tears in her eyes.

She whispered:

"Please... don't die."

A ripple of golden light pulsed from her, crossing impossible barriers.

It hit Dante like a second heartbeat.

AURA.

Pure, burning, defiant hybrid aura.

It flooded into his core, igniting what little he had left.

It tore apart Idris's illusions.

Dante's head snapped up, eyes wild, teeth bared in a feral grin.

Vokar was charging.

Too slow.

Dante whispered one word under his breath.

"Ash Form."

The Trickster screamed inside his mind:

"DANTE, NO!

ASH FORM BURNS YOUR SOUL, NOT JUST YOUR BODY!

You're not ready! Once you ignite it, you only have minutes — MINUTES — before you either win or die! Ash eats everything, even your future!"

Dante tightened his jaw.

"I know," he whispered.

"But better ashes... than chains."

And then it happened.

Dante's body ignited with invisible flame.

His veins burned molten red, his bones cracked, his skin flaked to cinders at the edges.

Ash streamed from his back, forming wings of death and fire.

He moved.

In one instant — he was across the arena.

The next — he was on Vokar's shoulders.

He drove his blade into the titan's throat.

The platform shattered under the force of the impact.

Ash and sand exploded skyward like a supernova.

When the dust cleared, Vokar was on the ground — unmoving.

The axe fallen from his fingers.

The match... over.

The crowd went silent.

And then roared, shaking the heavens.

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Dante stood over his opponent, chest heaving, blood dripping freely now.

His ash-wings crumbled into nothingness.

The victory horn blew.

A godly voice announced:

"Winner... DANTE! HE HAS WON THE TOURNAMENT."

But Dante didn't hear it.

His legs gave out.

He collapsed face-first into the sand.

The world blurred.

The last thing he saw before unconsciousness took him was Idris, smiling coldly at him from the high table.

"Impressive," Idris said. "But still... you're dying."

The Trickster inside his mind was screaming:

"Stay with me, kid! STAY WITH ME!"

But darkness rushed up to claim Dante, cold and merciless.

And the Chapter ended there — in a sea of ash, broken dreams, and blood.