The arena was silent before the storm. Towering platforms of translucent crystal hovered over a yawning chasm of shimmering essence, each platform swaying as if it had its own heartbeat. The air vibrated with latent energy, charged by the power of every Himen participant present. Shinjiru stood at the edge of one such platform, violet-silver aura faintly flickering around him, chains coiled and ready.
Though he remembered nothing of his past life, his body moved with an uncanny precision, a dance of instinct and power. He had been trained by the Elite 8—taught restraint, speed, and judgment—but today's trial would test everything he had learned.
Kaoru Myojin stepped forward, his white-gold aura calm and steady. "This trial is not merely one of strength," Kaoru announced, voice carrying effortlessly across the arena. "It will test your judgment, your leadership, and the balance between power and responsibility. Every participant must act as both protector and aggressor. Only then will the essence of the Succession Games be honored."
Shinjiru's pulse quickened. Even without memories, he understood the weight of the words. He glanced around at the other participants: novices and skilled Himen alike, each radiating an aura of tense anticipation. Some fidgeted, adjusting their chains or shifting their stance. Others closed their eyes, centering their energy.
And then, from the center of the arena, the simulation began. A low rumble echoed across the platforms, and a massive silhouette emerged: the Stage 3 Krawler. Its serpentine form slithered across the platforms with unnatural grace, black-red veins glowing as its body pulsed with dammed essence. The creature's multiple eyes scanned the participants, calculating, predicting, seeking weakness.
Shinjiru felt the surge within him—the hybrid essence awakening subtly, guiding reflexes his conscious mind did not fully comprehend. Chains uncoiled, spinning in perfect arcs around him as he leapt from one platform to another, positioning himself strategically.
The Krawler struck first. A sweeping lash of its tail shattered a crystal platform, sending shards tumbling into the chasm. Shinjiru instinctively redirected the debris with his chains, forming a temporary barrier that protected two falling participants. His aura flared brighter, the violet-silver glow reflecting off the floating platforms, signaling his control over the hybrid energy within.
He noticed immediately the human cost. Though this was a simulation, the danger was real: small dummies mimicking civilians were scattered across the arena. Every moment spent attacking recklessly could harm them. And in that split second of recognition, the weight of his father's legacy pressed upon him. Haruto Arakami had sought to protect essence and human life, and Shinjiru felt the same instinctive drive rising within him.
"Kaito, cover the east corridor!" he shouted instinctively. The emerald aura of his friend flared, and chains whipped out to intercept the Krawler's strike. Together, they formed a fluid defense, moving as one.
The Stage 3 Krawler adapted quickly, splitting its form into multiple afterimages, just like Ryuzen had taught him. Shinjiru mirrored the decoy shadows, redirecting its attention while simultaneously creating openings. He struck at the regeneration nodes with precise Still Strike principles he had been drilled on, slowing the creature's rapid recovery.
But the ethical test loomed heavier than the physical one. The simulation presented situations where innocents were directly in harm's way. A cluster of mock civilians teetered on a collapsing platform. Another participant panicked, frozen in indecision. Shinjiru's pulse quickened. Every instinct told him to strike the Krawler first—but his training reminded him that leadership meant protecting those who could not protect themselves.
He moved swiftly, using chains to stabilize the crumbling platforms while redirecting the Krawler's attack. Sparks of violet-silver essence flew as the chains collided with simulated spikes of corrupted energy. He caught a glimpse of Kaoru, who observed silently from the sidelines, approving yet silent—letting Shinjiru make the critical judgment himself.
The Krawler's serpentine heads converged, forcing Shinjiru into a corner. Reflexively, he spiraled his chains outward in a controlled pulse, not to destroy, but to corral the creature. It thrashed violently, and he felt the surge of hybrid power push him to the brink—his human body protesting even the controlled output. Pain lanced through his limbs, yet he held, focused on the balance of offense and protection.
Time slowed in those moments. Each decision mattered. A misstep could mean simulated casualties; hesitation could allow the Krawler to adapt. Shinjiru's mind sharpened, the hybrid essence amplifying his instincts without overtaking his human judgment. He adjusted his position, leveraging the arena's floating platforms as tactical tools rather than obstacles.
Minutes—or perhaps hours—passed in this suspended chaos. Finally, he saw the opening: the Krawler's core shimmered, vulnerable after repeated Still Strikes and clever manipulation. He gathered every ounce of hybrid essence he could safely exert, coiling it through his kusarigama chains. Then, with a controlled thrust, he struck the core, sending a pulse of violet-silver energy that neutralized the simulation.
The arena fell silent. Platforms stilled, and the simulated civilians were intact. Shinjiru's chest heaved, sweat dripping into his eyes, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. He had done it—perfect balance, flawless execution. Not just instinct, not just power, but judgment and restraint.
From the sidelines, the Elite 8 exchanged glances. Kaoru's expression was inscrutable, but there was a flicker of approval. Ryuzen's shadow-like aura rippled with recognition. Akihara's thorns pulsed faintly, a silent nod of respect. Even Tensei's golden aura seemed to shimmer slightly in approval.
Miyu approached after the trial, her expression unreadable. "You have done what most Himen never achieve in a lifetime," she said quietly. "Not because of raw power, but because you understand the essence of responsibility. Your hybrid blood allows instinct, but your judgment has proven it is not mere instinct that defines a leader."
Shinjiru exhaled, feeling the tension drain from his body. He did not yet fully understand the scope of his hybrid potential, but he felt the threads of destiny weaving themselves around him. The Succession Games were no longer just trials—they were a proving ground for the first 9th Elite Himen.
And deep inside, beneath the conscious mind and beneath the fatigue, something stirred. A faint pulse, like a whisper from the violet shard in his pocket. The potential to reshape both worlds remained dormant, but tonight, it had been awakened.
Shinjiru straightened, chains still gleaming faintly with the residual glow of essence. He looked across the arena, across the floating platforms, at the other participants who now regarded him with awe and subtle apprehension. The chaos of the trial had not broken him—it had forged him.
And for the first time, he truly understood: power was nothing without judgment. Legacy was nothing without action. And the future of the Serium Realm—and perhaps even the human world—might very well rest in his hands.