The night after the light descended never truly ended.
The sky of the Divine Arena pulsed in shades of crimson and violet, like a wound that refused to close. Kael had not slept. None of them had. The 180 survivors sat or sprawled across the broken plain, eyes hollow, clutching scavenged weapons made from bone, rock, or twisted shards of metal ripped from fallen beasts.
Kael stood a little apart from the others. The seven sigils that had burned into his chest were still faintly visible through the torn fabric of his shirt, pulsing with slow light. Every beat of his heart made the ground around him quiver.
He hated it.
Power had never been his goal—control was. And right now, the energy within him felt like a storm begging to tear him apart.
A voice broke his thoughts.
"Kael," Lyria called softly. She walked toward him with careful steps, as if afraid the world itself might explode. Her green eyes glowed faintly in the dimness. "You haven't eaten."
He looked at the crude fire pit where Seris was roasting strips of beast-meat over blue flame. The smell was harsh, metallic.
"Not hungry."
"You should be," Lyria said. "Whatever that thing inside you is, it's eating through your strength. You're shaking."
He looked down—she was right. His hands trembled. Whether from exhaustion or the strange energy, he didn't know.
"Rest later," he muttered. "We need to move before sunrise. The next trial will come."
Seris turned from the fire, her expression unreadable. "You sound certain."
"They're watching," Kael said, glancing at the sky. "They won't let us rest too long."
The three stood in silence for a moment. Around them, others stirred—counting weapons, checking wounds, whispering small, desperate prayers. It was a crowd of broken worlds: soldiers, mages, farmers, thieves, each torn from a different reality. Some spoke languages no one else understood. Others just stared into nothing.
Kael stepped onto a rock and raised his voice.
"Listen up!"
The murmurs quieted. Faces turned toward him—faces streaked with soot and terror.
"The gods call this the Divine Arena," he said. "That means they're expecting a show. You've seen the monsters. You've heard their laughter. If we stay here waiting, we die on their schedule."
Someone shouted from the back. "Then what—run? Hide? You think there's anywhere safe?"
Kael's gaze hardened. "No. I think we fight on our terms."
A ripple of uneasy silence followed. He continued, voice steady but fierce.
"East of here, beyond those black hills, I saw movement. Trees—real ones. Smoke, maybe from water vapor or fire. If there's cover, we can regroup there. Hunt. Build. Survive."
"And if there's more beasts?" another survivor asked.
"Then we make the first hunt ours," Kael said. "We kill them, learn how they bleed, and we take what's theirs. This world feeds on strength; we'll feed on it too."
For the first time, some of the survivors straightened. Fear didn't vanish—but it bent beneath something heavier: purpose.
---
They moved at dawn—or what passed for dawn under the red sky. Kael took the lead, Seris and Lyria at his sides, Daren and Lyra following with a handful of others who'd volunteered to scout. The rest followed in a loose column, wounded and wary.
The land changed quickly. The black rock gave way to fields of crimson grass that hissed like whispers in the wind. Strange insects the size of knives crawled along the blades, their shells glinting like glass. The air tasted of copper and ozone.
Lyra looked around and muttered, "Feels like walking through a corpse."
Seris smirked faintly. "At least corpses don't scream."
Daren shot her a look. "Remind me not to sit near you at camp."
"Remind me not to rescue you next time a beast eats your arm," she replied dryly.
Kael almost smiled. Almost. Even banter was a luxury here.
After an hour, they reached a rise overlooking a wide basin. At its center glimmered what looked like a river of silver light. The water shimmered unnaturally, and creatures moved beneath its surface—long, eel-like forms with luminous eyes.
Lyria crouched beside Kael. "Mana river," she whispered. "I can feel it. Pure energy. If we drink or channel it—"
"Or if it kills us," Seris interrupted. "Everything here is a trap."
Kael nodded slowly. "Both of you are right. But we need water." He studied the basin. "And food."
Daren pointed to movement on the far bank—massive quadrupeds grazing on the glowing grass, their bodies plated in bone and crystal. Each step they took left faint sparks behind.
"Those things look edible enough," he said. "If we can bring one down."
Lyra whistled softly. "If? They're the size of houses."
Kael looked at them, then at the exhausted survivors behind him.
"This is it," he said quietly. "The first hunt. We take one, learn what it takes to kill a monster of this world, and feed everyone."
Seris's eyes gleamed. "Finally."
---
They planned quickly. Seris and Lyra would circle to the left, using speed and stealth. Daren would approach from the right with a few fighters carrying makeshift spears. Lyria stayed near Kael to observe and heal.
Kael himself would strike first.
He focused on the energy inside him. The seven lights flickered behind his ribs like stars. He drew a slow breath, letting his mind fall into the rhythm of battle—calm, deliberate, lethal.
> Focus. Breathe. Move.
When he opened his eyes again, the world sharpened. Every blade of crimson grass, every heartbeat within the beasts below, pulsed in his vision.
He moved.
The ground blurred beneath him; dust swirled at his feet. A single leap carried him halfway down the slope. The nearest creature turned its plated head and bellowed—a sound like grinding metal. The others lifted theirs, eyes flaring.
Kael hit the ground running.
He reached the first beast before it finished roaring. His hand snapped upward, fingers slicing through the air. Light flared around him—Aether, pure and white. A blade of it formed briefly in his grasp, half-real, half-energy, and he drove it beneath the creature's jaw.
It screamed. The sound rattled the basin.
Daren's group charged in from the side, spears striking at joints in the creature's legs. Seris appeared like a shadow, her daggers flashing dark green with poison, carving lines along its flank. Lyra summoned gusts that distracted the other beasts, scattering them.
The fight lasted less than a minute but felt eternal. Kael's conjured blade shattered as he withdrew it, leaving a crater of glowing ichor. The beast crashed down, its body shuddering once before stilling.
Silence. Then a distant rumble of laughter—the gods watching again.
Kael looked at the sky and spat into the dirt. "Enjoy the show."
He turned to the others. "Cut it open. We'll see what kind of meat this world bleeds."
Lyria knelt beside the fallen creature, hands glowing faint green. "Its blood is thick with mana," she murmured. "We could refine it. Maybe even use it as fuel."
"Or poison," Seris said. "Depends on who drinks first."
Kael wiped his blade-hand on his torn pants. "We'll test it carefully. Small portions. If it keeps us alive, good. If it kills us, we learn something."
He looked back across the basin. More of the creatures had scattered, their distant shapes fading into mist. But the river still shimmered, calm and cold.
The hunt had given them food, water, and—more importantly—hope.
For the first time, Kael felt the faintest thread of something that wasn't rage or despair.
Momentum.