Dawn came without warmth.
Mist coiled through the streets of the provincial capital, wrapping towers and bridges in pale ribbons as the contestants gathered at the outer ring of the city. Beyond the last barrier wall, the land dipped into a vast hollow where ancient stone arches rose like broken ribs from the earth.
At the center of it all stood the dungeon gate.
It was not a door.
It was a wound in the world.
A vertical oval of swirling green and silver light hovered above a circular platform carved with sigils older than the city itself. Mana flowed into it from four crystal pylons, humming with restrained violence.
Zael stood among the crowd of awakeners, hands tucked into his cloak sleeves.
One thousand and fifty contestants.
No teams.
No deaths.
Only points.
Voices overlapped around him.
"I heard inner zones spawn elites after the first hour."
"They say beasts here can adapt to your element."
"Doesn't matter. I just need top hundred."
Tyron rolled his shoulders. "Three days. No permanent deaths. Sounds simple until you remember there are a thousand of us."
Selvig stood a short distance away, hammer resting on his shoulder, eyes fixed on the gate as if daring it to resist him.
Seraphina said nothing.
Zane didn't look at the gate at all.
His gaze was angled upward, unfocused, as if listening to something distant.
Zael felt the faint stir of Ascendant Echo.
So you're ready too.
A woman in white armor rose into the air above the platform, her voice amplified by mana.
"Provincial Trial contestants."
The murmurs faded.
"Mistfall Dungeon will now open."
A projection flared above the gate, showing forests, ravines, ruins, and glowing inner zones.
"Killing beasts grants full points. Defeating other contestants grants half points."
"Teleportation will occur upon critical injury or surrender."
"Scoring rules are as follows:
• Normal beast — 10 points
• Elite beast — 50 points
• Rare elite — 200 points
• Boss-class beast — 500 points
Defeating another contestant — half of their current total points transferred to you."
A ripple of tension ran through the crowd.
She raised one hand.
"The gate opens… now."
The air screamed.
Light tore downward like a falling star.
Names flashed across floating screens.
"Zane Calder — Entry Point: North Ravine."
"Seraphina Vale — Entry Point: Western Canopy."
"Selvig Ironhart — Entry Point: Southern Ruins."
"Zael Nightshade — Entry Point: Eastern Fringe."
Space folded.
Zael felt weight vanish—
—and the world snapped back into place.
---
He landed in damp grass.
Tall trees surrounded him, trunks warped by ambient mana. Pale blue moss crawled up jagged stones, glowing faintly.
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Provincial Trial Active]
[Scoring Enabled]
[Teleport Safety: Online]
Zael exhaled slowly and drew his blade.
"Let's keep this quiet."
Strategic Marking activated.
The forest sharpened.
Weak points shimmered faintly through bark and shadow.
Movement rustled to his left.
Two wolf-shaped beasts crept from behind a fallen log, translucent fur drifting like mist around their frames.
Mist Wolves — Levels 18, 19
Zael stepped forward calmly.
The first lunged.
He slid aside and drove his blade beneath its jaw.
It dropped instantly.
The second circled, wary.
Zael waited until it committed, then cut upward along the glowing seam in its ribs.
It collapsed with a wet whine.
A pulse ran through his body.
[Target Eliminated]
[+10 Points]
[Current Total: 10]
Zael frowned.
No familiar warmth.
No surge of experience.
No item glow.
He crouched beside the corpse.
Nothing shimmered.
No drop.
"Hm…"
He scanned the ground.
Tracks—fresh. Other contestants had passed through.
So this is the fringe.
Safer. Lower reward.
He moved deeper between the trees.
The earth rippled.
A scaled head burst from the soil, amber eyes blazing.
Burrowfang Drake — Level 32
Zael's breath tightened.
Already?
The beast surged forward, jaws snapping.
Zael rolled as dirt exploded where he'd stood. He sprinted between trees, forcing its heavy body to twist awkwardly.
Branches shattered.
He pivoted suddenly and slashed into the glowing seam beneath its throat.
The blade bit deep.
The drake shrieked and thrashed.
Zael ducked under its tail and drove his sword into the node at the base of its skull.
The creature convulsed and collapsed.
Another pulse passed through him.
[Target Eliminated]
[+10 Points]
[Current Total: 20]
Zael stared.
Still no exp.
Still no drops.
He sheathed his blade and stood still, eyes narrowing.
"…So that's how it is."
This dungeon didn't reward growth.
Only ranking.
No experience gain.
No materials.
No skill books.
Just points.
A controlled slaughterhouse.
Designed to measure who could kill the most… the fastest… and the smartest.
Far away, pressure rolled through the dungeon.
From the north.
Zael felt Ascendant Echo stir faintly.
Zane.
Moments later, a ripple distorted the sky to the west.
Someone strong...
Zael exhaled through his nose.
"So the real monsters are already moving."
He looked at his point display.
20 points.
Barely anything.
He turned toward denser trees where stronger mana currents pulsed faintly.
Three days.
One thousand and fifty hunters.
No leveling.
No loot.
Only survival.
Only score.
And somewhere ahead, paths were already crossing.
Not yet.
But soon.
Zael moved eastward, deeper into the forest where the mana currents thickened and the light dimmed.
The terrain sloped into a basin of twisted roots and moss-choked stone ribs. Red motes drifted lazily through the air, marking zones where beasts gathered more densely. From a distance, scattered flashes of mana flared and faded—other contestants fighting, but far apart.
He paused on a fallen trunk and checked the translucent panel hovering at the edge of his vision.
Points: 20
Low. Deliberately so.
Across the clearing, two silhouettes skirted each other at opposite ends of a ridge. They didn't draw weapons. They didn't slow. They simply… adjusted their paths and kept moving.
No one wanted to waste time.
Killing another contestant earned only half their points, and early scores were small. Fighting people meant injury, risk, and lost opportunities. Beasts were better targets.
For the first two days, it was an unspoken rule:
Ignore each other unless there's a reason not to.
Zael dropped from the trunk and moved on.
---
The brush parted.
A hulking shape emerged between two leaning trees, bark-like plates overlapping its limbs, crooked antlers catching faint light.
Barkhide Stalker — Level 35 (Elite)
Golden seams traced themselves across its neck and joints as Strategic Marking mapped it.
Zael inhaled once and stepped forward.
The Stalker lunged.
He slid under the swipe and cut through the soft joint beneath its arm. Sap-colored blood splashed across the roots. It howled and reared back.
Zael didn't retreat. He drove his blade into the glowing seam at the base of its antlers.
The Stalker froze… then collapsed with a heavy thud.
A pulse followed.
[Target Eliminated]
[+50 Points]
[Current Total: 70]
He waited.
Nothing else came.
No warmth.
No surge.
No item glow.
The corpse dissolved into light within seconds, leaving bare earth behind.
Zael frowned faintly. "Still nothing."
He'd killed several beasts already. Not a single drop. Not a trace of experience.
So the dungeon stripped everything but points.
No farming.
No stockpiling.
No shortcuts.
Only kills that mattered.
"Figures," he murmured. "They don't want growth. They want ranking."
A distant boom rolled through the canopy—heavy, decisive. Someone powerful was clearing a dense nest.
Selvig, most likely.
Another ripple followed, sharper and cleaner, like space folding.
Zane… or...
Zael shook his head and kept moving.
---
The forest thinned into broken ruins.
Half-buried walls rose from the soil like ribs, wrapped in glowing vines. Mana pooled unnaturally here, drifting in slow spirals around cracked pillars.
Voices echoed faintly.
Two contestants stood at opposite ends of a collapsed archway, both eyeing the same cluster of beasts prowling beneath it.
Neither moved.
A silent standoff.
They were waiting to see who would commit first, who'd make the first attack.
Zael skirted the ruins without interfering.
Not his fight.
Then—The beast didn't give them the luxury...
A screech tore through the fog.
Shapes poured out from between toppled columns.
Mist Lurkers — Levels 20–27
Six of them.
They rushed the nearer contestant.
Zael stayed back.
The boy raised a shield of pale light and held his ground while cutting them down one by one.
When the last Lurker fell, a pulse flickered.
[+10 Points]
[+10 Points]
[+10 Points]
Thirty total.
The other contestant watched for a moment… then turned and left with a snarl.
No challenge.
No ambush.
No pursuit.
Too little reward.
Zael moved in the opposite direction.
"Good," he thought. "This means the field stays wide."
Only idiots and maniacs fought people this early.
---
The ruins gave way to a fog-choked valley.
Movement rippled beneath the mist.
Zael crouched at the ridge and counted.
Seven… eight…
Then a larger shape rose among them.
Mist Lurker Matriarch — Level 42 (Rare Elite)
The pack shifted around it.
200 points.
Worth the effort.
But—
On the far side of the valley, another contestant stopped short, clearly spotting the same target.
They stared at each other across the fog.
Neither drew a weapon.
A decision passed without words.
Zael stepped back.
The other contestant advanced.
The Matriarch roared as the fight began.
Zael turned away and headed uphill.
There would be other elites.
No need to contest this one and risk injury for a few hundred points.
Minutes later, a shockwave rolled through the fog.
Then silence.
A distant pulse shimmered.
Someone had taken the kill but at what cost.
Zael checked his panel again.
Points: 70
Steady.
Unremarkable.
Perfect.
---
Higher up the slope, the beasts thinned.
Smaller packs.
Lower levels.
Zael cut through three more—clean, precise, quiet.
[+10 Points]
[+10 Points]
[+10 Points]
[Current Total: 100]
Still no exp.
Still no drops.
The realization settled fully now.
"This dungeon isn't about growth," he muttered. "It's about pressure."
Force them into competition.
Force them into conflict.
But only later.
For now, the unspoken truce held.
Far above, faint projections shimmered across the artificial sky.
Leaderboards.
Names shifting slowly.
Zane hovered near the top.
Another name rose fast beside his.
Lily Ardent
Zael's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is it really you or...".
His own name remained buried among the hundreds.
He sheathed his blade and moved toward a region where the mana thinned again.
Lower beasts.
Lower risk.
Let the others clash when the points mattered.
Above him, another contestant vanished in a flash of light—teleported out after taking a heavy hit.
The trial continued.
And Zael, walking alone through shadowed trees, smiled faintly.
"No exp. No loot. Just points."
"That means…"
He disappeared into the mist.
"…only choices matter."