From his place in the waiting chamber, Rondan could hear the thunder of thousands of feet stamping on the stone terraces above, chanting his name like the beat of war drums.
But the energy was wrong. This wasn't the roar of fans awaiting a match—it was the hunger of a crowd awaiting a sacrifice.
Leina stood beside him, her hood drawn low. "This isn't a normal fight," she murmured. "It's the first step toward the Offering. Whatever you do… don't let them break you."
Before he could ask what she meant, the heavy bronze gate groaned open. Bright sunlight stabbed his eyes as the announcer's voice rang through the air.
"Let the first trial… begin!"
The arena floor was different from before. No sand, no clear ground—only shifting slabs of stone that floated inches above a dark, bottomless pit. They rose and fell like the breathing of some slumbering beast.
From the far end, a figure emerged. Tall, wrapped in tattered black cloth, its face hidden behind a mask of jagged bone. In its hands, a blade shaped like a crescent moon.
When it moved, it didn't walk—it glided, silent and inevitable.
The crowd erupted.
Rondan drew his sword, the crimson mark on his forearm throbbing like a heartbeat.
The masked opponent tilted its head. "Marked one," it said in a voice that sounded like wind over a grave. "Your blood calls to the void."
The floating stones shifted violently, forcing Rondan to leap to another platform. He landed hard, feeling the edges crumble beneath his boots.
The figure attacked, its crescent blade a blur. Steel met steel, sparks scattering into the abyss below. Rondan felt the force drive him back, stone crumbling under his heel.
Then it happened. The rune on his arm flared, heat flooding his veins. His vision sharpened; the opponent's movements slowed as if the world itself hesitated.
A whisper crawled into his mind. Strike where the shadow breathes.
Rondan pivoted, his sword cutting through the narrow gap between the bone mask and the black cloth. The blade met flesh—and the figure let out a hollow scream before dissolving into ash that scattered into the void.
The crowd's cheer was deafening, but there was no triumph in it—only anticipation for what would come next.
Leina's voice echoed faintly from the tunnel. "One trial down… but the Offering is still waiting."