Ready for what? The answer seemed obvious.
'The Centurions. The real challenges. We're being groomed to face the ten commanders, to put on spectacular shows when we finally meet them.'
It was systematic. Calculated. Start with manageable opponents to weed out the weakest. Give survivors time to grow, to adapt, to become worthy challenges. Then throw them against legendary warriors and watch the resulting carnage.
The thought was terrifying for multiple reasons. If this was just preparation, just the warm-up rounds to make them strong enough to face the real threats...
'How powerful are the Ten Centurions? How would I fare against one right now?'
The question sent cold dread through his stomach. He'd fought Titans before—Langdon, the Blood Monarch wearing his own body. Those battles had pushed him to his absolute limits, nearly killed him multiple times.
And the Centurions were supposedly stronger. More skilled. Undefeated across seventy-four tournaments.
