The instructor stepped through the doorway without a glance back.
"Come on, we don't have all night," he said, calm but firm.
Mork inhaled deeply and followed.
The moment Mave crossed the threshold, she halted. Her head tilted just enough for her blazing eyes to find him.
Mork froze.
Oh no… she's still furious. She's insane. Is she actually going to kill me? No… I'm a prince. She can't. But… what if she tries?
He sighed inwardly. Please, just don't let the next trial be about fighting.
Without a word, Mave strode ahead. The door shut the instant she crossed through.
Inside was a square-shaped chamber. The floor wasn't a floor at all—it was a massive 3D battlefield, soldiers carved into tiny statues lining both sides, each no taller than a finger.
"In this trial, your intellect will be tested," the instructor declared. "You will play Battlelok—a game of strategy."
Battlelok? Mork blinked. I know this game. Mom and Dad used to play it all the time.
Two guards entered, each carrying a long staff with a flat end. They handed one to Mork and the other to Mave.
"Take your positions," the instructor ordered.
Mork stood before an army of red soldiers neatly arranged in rows. Across from him, Mave commanded the blue.
"You each command five hundred soldiers," the instructor explained.
"Two hundred foot soldiers. One hundred knights. Two hundred archers.
Foot soldiers: attack range of one block, move one at a time, 100 HP.
Knights: attack range of two blocks, move three at a time, 400 HP.
Archers: attack range of ten blocks, move one at a time, 10 HP.
Protect your king. Kill the enemy king. Ten seconds per move, or you forfeit your turn. Any questions?"
Silence.
"Begin."
Mave instantly advanced her foot soldiers one block forward.
Mork's thoughts:
Each row has a hundred troops. My archers are three blocks behind the front line. The gap between us is ten blocks… nine now. If I push my knights first, they'll clash before she can use her archers—she'll risk hitting her own men.
Mork smirked and advanced his knights.
Both sides continued to move.
When his knights entered her archers' range, Mave's foot soldiers engaged. Mork grinned. Perfect. If she fires now, she'll decimate her own line.
A hooded attendant swept across the board, removing the fallen figures. Mork pushed his foot soldiers forward, tightening formation.
But Mave didn't respond.
He kept pressing. Her soldiers were falling fast—still, she stayed silent.
That's it. She's finished. She's lost too many. She can't possibly recover.
He glanced at her.
She was smiling.
"I command the archers to fire," Mave said coldly.
The hooded attendant moved swiftly, clearing away both red and blue soldiers.
Mork's eyes darted. Retreat? Advance? What now?
He tried to fall back—but it was already too late. His soldiers were gone.
With the field open, Mave's knights charged.
"Fire!" Mork ordered desperately.
His archers struck, but fifty knights survived the volley and crashed into their ranks. The rest fell, but it didn't matter.
Soon, his archers were gone. His king was surrounded. The battle ended.
"Not again… how can I lose to a girl twice?" Mork muttered.
"Both contestants, step forward," the instructor commanded.
They obeyed. Mave's stare burned into him. Mork couldn't meet her gaze.
"The battle lasted five minutes," the instructor said. "Lord Mork lost all five hundred soldiers. Lady Mave lost two hundred and fifty. Victory goes to Lady Mave. Rank A. Lord Mork, Rank E."
He really had to say it like that, Mork groaned inwardly.
"Next trial," the instructor continued. "Two gates have opened. From here, you will proceed separately."
Mork exhaled in relief. Finally. No more competing with her.
Mave brushed past him.
"Don't think this is over," she hissed, voice like ice. "I'm not done with you."
She vanished through a door, and it shut behind her.