Blood splashed across the ring.
Both contestants tasted metal on their tongues, sweat burning their eyes as the stench of iron filled the air.
The ground beneath them was sick, smeared red.
Two men stood facing each other–daggers in hand, chests heaving, blood dripping from their arms.
One of them swayed.
"Ooh… are you gonna fall?" Lykon rasped, a crooked grin splitting his bruised face as he struggled to stay upright.
"Like hell I would," Rael shot back, voice hoarse and ragged.
"That's enough!!"
Scarlet's voice cracked like a whip through the arena. She stepped forward, her coat brushing the dust as every head turned toward her.
Both men froze–eyes fixed on her, desperate for the verdict.
"Lykon Vren… Rael Stren," Scarlet said, her tone firm and cutting through the noise.
"You both pass this round."
At her words, both men exhaled at once and collapsed, backs slamming into the dirt as clouds of dust rose around them.
"Medics!" Scarlet barked.
Attendants and Medics rushed in, lifting the two battered fighters off the ring and carrying them toward the infirmary. The crowd murmured, a mix of awe and exhaustion rippling through the stands.
Scarlet turned back toward the line of recruits. Her crimson gaze swept over them like a blade.
"Now for the next matchup…"
Her finger shot forward. "You."
The crowd parted slightly, revealing a man near the front. Scarlet's gaze shifted again.
"And you–" she pointed deeper into the crowd, voice sharp, "the kid in the back. Step up."
Whispers spread as the crowd opened to reveal the boy.
"John's gonna fight?" Boros muttered under his breath, concern tightening his tone.
The murmurs in the crowd swelled as John stepped forward.
"Ooh, she's putting a kid up against an adult?"
"He's dead."
"Isn't that the brat who cheated in the last test?"
"Yeah, he got an easy ride before."
"Damn bastard's gonna learn his lesson today."
The whispers cut sharper than blades, their judgment echoing through the stands.
"All this murmuring's gonna leave my head pounding for days after this…" Boros muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
......
Up in the stands, the hooded man leaned back, eyes fixed on the ring.
"What's Scarlet thinking," his attendant said quietly, "putting such a young boy up against a grown man?"
The hooded man didn't answer immediately. His tone, when it came, was calm–almost too calm.
"Hmmm… if he ends up passing this exam, adult men will be the least of his worries. He'll be fighting Draken every other Tuesday."
He adjusted his cloak slightly, eyes narrowing. "If he can't beat one man here… what makes you think he can handle what's coming next?"
"You're right, sir. My apologies," the attendant said quickly.
The hooded man chuckled faintly.
"Besides…" He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "The way that boy's walking up to the ring… doesn't look like he plans to give up easily."
...…..
Laughter broke out from the opposite side of the arena.
"Hahaha! You're alone here, boy! No one's gonna carry you out of this one!"
John's opponent taunted, barking a laugh, his voice booming with arrogance.
"What's wrong, kid? Need a babysitter?"
John didn't answer. His throat felt dry, his heart hammering so hard it hurt. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, waiting for him to fail.
So he kept his mouth shut.
Without a word, he walked to the weapon rack and picked up a single dagger. The man across from him grabbed a sword, spinning it once before stepping into stance.
Scarlet raised her hand.
"Begin!"
The moment Scarlet's hand dropped, John froze.
His opponent didn't.
The man charged immediately–boots slamming against the stone floor as his sword came down in a brutal arc.
CLANG!
John barely raised his dagger in time, the impact jolting through his arm. He stumbled back, almost losing his footing.
"Pathetic!" the man barked, swinging again.
John ducked this time, the blade slicing the air above his head. He rolled clumsily to the side, dirt scraping his palms. His lungs burned already, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He didn't even have time to think–
The next blow came faster.
Then another.
And another.
Every swing forced him back a step. Every clang screamed how outmatched he was.
Back in the crowd, the whispers started again.
"He's finished."
"Why's Scarlet letting this continue?"
"Kid's gonna get killed at this rate."
John grit his teeth, trying to block out the voices. The world around him blurred–faces melting into noise. All he could see was the man in front of him, sword raised laughing.
The man swung horizontally–John blocked with both hands this time, dagger trembling against the weight of the strike.
CRACK!
The dagger's hilt split slightly, biting into John's palm. He hissed in pain.
"Can't even hold your weapon right!" the man taunted, kicking him square in the chest.
John flew back, slamming into the dirt. His vision swam. His body screamed.
For a second, he just lay there – gasping for air, head pounding, blood trickling from his lip.
'This is bad… I can't move… I can't–'
Then, somewhere in the haze, something in him clicked.
The noise faded. The pain dulled.
He wasn't thinking anymore.
His heartbeat slowed–not from calm, but from focus. His hands stopped shaking.
The man approached, smirking. "Already done, huh? Should've stayed in the kiddie tests."
He raised his sword to finish it–
– but John moved.
It wasn't thought. It was reaction.
He rolled aside just before the blade struck the ground, dust exploding where he'd been. Then he was up on one knee, dagger flashing towards the man's side.
SLASH!
A shallow cut. Not deep enough to matter–but it drew blood.
The man blinked, eyes narrowing. "You little–"
He swung again, but this time John didn't stumble. He ducked under, feet shifting lightly on instinct. His dagger flicked out again, grazing the man's wrist.
The crowd gasped.
Even Scarlet's eyebrow twitched slightly.
From the crowd, Boros muttered under his breath, "So he's adapting huh…"
John didn't hear any of it. His body moved on its own – ducking weaving, slipping between strikes.
Fear had burned itself out, replaced by something sharper.
Something primal.
The man snarled and charged again, their blades clashing once more–sparks lighting the air between them.
And this time, John didn't back down.
BAM!
The sound echoed across the arena like a hammer to steel. The man's sword hilt cracked against John's skull, dropping him instantly.
"Ha… haha… hahahahaha!"
Laughter.
Not just from the man – but from the crowd. A wave of cruel amusement rolled through the stands.
Their laughter wasn't joy—it was hunger. The sound of wolves smelling weakness.
"Ooh hell, I thought he was actually gonna do something."
"Me too!" someone barked back, and soon the laughter grew louder, uglier.
Scarlet's jaw tightened. "Sick bastards," she muttered, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Down in the ring, the man walked slowly toward John, his laughter stretching into a low, taunting growl – savoring every step like a predator closing in on its prey.
John lay there motionless, eyes half-open, body limp against the stone.
The man stopped over him, sneering.
"Pathetic. Thought you were special, huh? You should've stayed on the ground where you belo–"
WOOM!
A burst of sand exploded upward, blasting straight into the man's eyes.
He screamed, stumbling back, clutching his face as the grains scraped across his skin.
The laughter from the crowd died instantly – replaced by a stunned silence.
Through the settling dust, he raised his head slowly—eyes hidden beneath his fringe, fingers still half-buried in the sand he'd just thrown.