Knockout Registered – Ethan Valdros: 3 ]
[ Leaderboard: Rank 95 ]
Velina wiped her brow, panting. "You didn't have to—"
"He was behind you," Ethan said. "Doesn't matter how strong you are if someone takes your back."
A faint smile curved her lips. "You're not what they think you are."
"No one is," he muttered, eyes already scanning for the next fight.
---
Meanwhile, across the coliseum, a different storm brewed.
At its center stood Cael Verendis, son of Duke Verendis, heir of the Crimson Horn lineage.
Rank 1 was inevitable.
Clad in pitch-colored armor with golden trim, his blade was longer than most, its hilt coiled with red sigils. He didn't chase opponents. They came to him, and fell just as quickly. With a single backhanded slice, he disarmed one boy, then struck him down with a roundhouse that echoed across the arena. Another charged from behind—Cael didn't even turn, instead twisting and driving his elbow into the attacker's jaw.
Crystal taps.
[ Knockout Registered – Cael Verendis: 7 ]
[ Leaderboard: Rank 1 ]
A noble beside him laughed. "We're going to make them kneel, Cael."
"We?" Cael said, barely glancing at him. "You're here to entertain me."
---
By the hour's end, dust coated every face, and bruises marked every limb. Crystals flared with registered strikes. The leaderboard above shimmered, now fully active.
TOP 10 – CURRENT STANDING:
1. Cael Verendis – 13
2. Neron D'Valmir – 11
3. Rexus Algrave – 11
4. Alissia Varn – 10
5. Silas Montreux – 9
6. Eirun Fex – 9
7. Luthar Rehn – 8
8. Draken D'marion – 8
9. Cayden Rellhart – 8
10. Tyrel Cane – 7
Ethan adjusted his grip. His arms ached, sweat dripped into his eyes, but he moved like a shadow still, faster now, sharper. His footwork never faltered. The blade moved as if guided by muscle memory forged in darker places than any academy could know.
Another noble, brash and bulky, stormed toward him.
"I heard about you," the boy sneered. "Peasant with a fake name. Time to send you home."
Ethan didn't respond. He dodged, ducked a two-handed swing, then slammed the pommel into the boy's chin. The crack of bone was loud. The noble's eyes rolled back.
Crystal tapped.
[ Knockout Registered – Ethan Valdros: 5 ]
[ Leaderboard: Rank 80 ]
---
Meanwhile, Velina sliced clean through her final opponent with a flourish, her band lighting up as her tenth knockout registered.
"Six," she whispered, breathless. "That's enough."
But her eyes flicked to Ethan.
He moved like the wind. His posture, his cuts, they weren't practiced. They were lived. This wasn't training for him. This was instinct. A part of him. He's been holding back, she realized. All this time.
---
Forty minutes passed.
Only two hundred and seventy still stood. The rest were either unconscious or had tapped out. Blood stained the dirt. Squires dragged the wounded out one by one, and clerics stabilized the worst.
The leaderboard began to solidify again, displaying the current rankings
TOP 10 – CURRENT RANKINGS:
1. Cael Verendis – 15
2. Neron D'Valmir – 13
3. Rexus Algrave – 12
4. Alissia Varn – 12
5. Silas Montreux – 11
6. Eirun Fex – 11
7. Luthar Rehn – 10
8. Draken D'marion – 9
9. Tyrel Cane – 9
10. Cayden Rellhart – 8
[ Remaining Aspirants: 270 ]
[Status: Ongoing]
The coliseum floor was soaked in sweat and thick with the iron scent of blood. Dust clouds rose beneath the weight of every step, every clash, every broken body collapsing onto the cracked earth. Crystals in the Trial Bands pulsed with every registered knockout, bathing the battlefield in flickering hues of red, blue, and gold.
And still, the Trial continued.
Though many had fallen, over two hundred remained locked in battle, desperate to rise, desperate not to be forgotten. Ethan moved through the chaos like a shadow wrapped in silence.
His blade never wasted a motion. Every parry was an opening. Every sidestep, a trap. His opponents came hungry for reputation—but Ethan fought like a ghost of war.
One more, he told himself, scanning the battlefield. I need one more to reach the fifteen mark.
He didn't want to just pass. He wanted to leave his name branded into the walls of this arena, scorched into the hearts of those who had laughed.
---
A noble boy, lean and fast with a rapier gripped tight, spotted Ethan from across the ring.
"You!" the boy snarled. "The peasant rat. Think you belong up there?"
Ethan didn't respond. He slid his sword into a low guard and waited.
The noble lunged, too eager, too angry.
Ethan pivoted, guiding the rapier aside with the flat of his blade. His counterattack was brutal and clean, a knee to the stomach, an elbow to the jaw, and then a sweeping strike across the noble's thigh.
The boy collapsed, groaning.
Ethan pressed his blade to the noble's chest, nodding toward the bracelet. "Yield."
The noble's hand trembled before he tapped the crystal.
[ Knockout Registered – Ethan Valdros: 7 ]
[ Leaderboard Update – Rank: 70 ]
Above, the Lightboard shimmered, shifting Ethan's name into the top 100 rankings, officially displacing one of the noble scions. Murmurs began to grow in the stands surrounding the coliseum. Even among the seated instructors and watching nobles, a few leaned forward in surprise.
A no-name from a dead village, standing shoulder to shoulder with the sons and daughters of dukes?
Unacceptable.
---
Not far from Ethan, Velina ducked under a blade and delivered a precise jab to her opponent's collarbone. Her opponent, a girl from House Vendris, stumbled back, disarmed. Velina didn't wait. She pressed her advantage, slashing forward, but stopped an inch before the girl's throat.
"I yield," the noble spat, anger flickering in her eyes.
Another chime echoed.
[ Knockout Registered – Velina Althros: 7 ]
[ Leaderboard Update – Rank: 71 ]
Velina stepped back, panting, and glanced toward Ethan.
They made eye contact.
Still standing, her eyes seemed to say. We both are.
---
Meanwhile, at the far end of the coliseum, Cael Verendis stood unmoving. Around him lay a ring of the unconscious, eight, nine, ten bodies already downed. His count had already climbed to twenty-two.
But he didn't look satisfied.
One of his followers, a sneering boy in violet silk, approached with a fresh opponent barely able to hold a sword.
"This one's not even worth your breath," the boy said.
Cael's eyes didn't move. "Then why bring him?"
With a casual flick of his wrist, Cael's blade whipped through the air and knocked the incoming boy's sword from his hand before he'd even gotten within reach.
The boy froze.
"Go," Cael said, not even looking at him. "You're not even meat."
The boy scrambled away, shame covering him like a cloak.