The sun blazed relentlessly over the Great Tenrou Tree, casting long, ancient shadows over the eight cavernous mouths that marked the beginning of the S-Class Wizard Promotion Trial. The humid jungle air was thick with the scent of sea salt and the electric tension of imminent combat. The scramble from the beach had been a chaotic display of magic and athleticism, separating the pack as they raced toward the paths marked A through H.
Natsu and Happy choose Path E as Natsu believes that Erza would be there.
"I can smell it, Happy!" Natsu grinned, his scarf fluttering as he sprinted into the dark maw of the cave marked 'E'. "Erza is definitely down this path! I'm gonna beat her and become S-Class for sure!"
"Aye!" Happy cheered, flying alongside him. "If we beat Erza, we'll be legends!"
They dashed deeper into the tunnel, the light from the entrance fading into gloom. The path opened up into a massive, hollowed-out underground grotto, illuminated by glowing moss.
And standing in the center of the path, sitting on a rock was not the Titania.
It was a man with slicked-back orange hair, a stubbly beard, and a presence that made the very air feel heavy, as if gravity had just increased tenfold.
Natsu skidded to a halt, his boots carving trenches in the dirt. His eyes went wide. His instincts, honed by dragons, screamed danger.
Gildarts offered a lazy, welcoming grin.
"Oh? Natsu. Happy. I was wondering who I'd get."
"G-Gildarts?" Happy stammered, hiding behind Natsu's head.
"I... I got the old man?" Natsu swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead instantly. He wanted a fight, but this... this was a force of nature.
Gildarts stood up, dusting off his pants. The ground trembled slightly just from him shifting his weight. "Well, the rules are the rules. To pass, you have to get past me. Sorry, Natsu. I hate holding back."
He released his magic power. It didn't explode; it crushed. The sheer density of it cracked the cave walls.
"Come on then," Gildarts beckoned.
---
Lucy and Cana are the last to arrive on the island and head through Path C.
"We're last! We're dead last!" Lucy cried, panting as they trudged through the sand.
"Stop whining and run!" Cana shouted, though she was equally out of breath. "We have to take whatever path is left!"
They reached the cliff face. Only one cave entrance remained unclaimed. Path C.
"This is it," Cana said, her face grim. She adjusted her card bag. "No turning back."
They entered the cave. It was silent, damp, and smelled faintly of ozone. They walked for what felt like miles until the tunnel widened into a jagged arena of stalagmites.
Standing there, with his back to them, was a tall, muscular figure wearing a heavy fur-collared coat. Sparks of yellow electricity danced around his shoulders.
To encounter Laxus.
Cana froze. Her blood ran cold. "No..."
The figure turned. A jagged scar ran down his right eye. The arrogance was unmistakably that of the Lightning Dragon Slayer.
"Laxus!!!" Lucy gasped.
"I thought I was going to get Natsu," Laxus grunted, his voice like grinding stones. "So I could teach him a lesson, but I as an examiner who wouldn't go easy on anyone. Especially not on you, Cana."
Laxus cracked his knuckles, thunder booming in the enclosed space. "You want to be S-Class? You want to stand on the same stage as Erza and Mira? Then show me you aren't garbage."
---
In the humid depths of Path D, water and light clashed against steel.
"Water Nebula!" Juvia screamed, sending torrents of crushing water forward.
"Animal Soul: Tiger!" Lisanna lunged, her speed enhanced.
Erza Scarlet stood her ground, currently equipped in her Sea Empress Armor to negate Juvia's advantage. She parried Lisanna with the flat of her blade and sliced through the water torrent with a single motion.
"Excellent coordination," Erza praised, her voice stern. "But not enough! S-Class requires dominance over the battlefield!"
---
In Path B, the cave echoed with a terrifying roar.
"You call that a punch, Elfman?!" Mirajane's voice was distorted, demonic. She was in her Satan Soul form, hovering in the air with dark wings spread.
Elfman, fully transformed into his Beast Soul: Weretiger, was panting heavily. Evergreen was hiding behind a rock, her Stone Eyes useless against Mira's speed.
"Nee-chan is taking this too seriously!" Elfman yelled, shielding himself from a blast of dark energy.
"This is the trial!" Mira smiled, though it was a terrifying expression on a demon's face. "If you cannot defeat me, you cannot protect the guild!"
---
In a rocky canyon, two teams collided. It was a battle route—team vs. team.
"Sorry, Wendy," Gray cracked his neck, ice vapor rising from his skin. "I can't let you pass. I promised I'd win this."
Brandish stood beside him, looking at her fingernails. "Do I have to do anything? They look small."
"Please help," Gray sighed.
Wendy took a deep breath, the air swirling around her. "I won't lose either, Gray-san! Dragon Force!"
Mest vanished, teleporting behind Gray instantly. "Don't underestimate the little ones."
---
In Path H, there was no sound of battle. There was just the dripping of water and the sound of Gajeel chewing on a particularly tasty iron deposit he found in the wall.
"We... we really picked the safe route?" Levy whispered, looking around suspiciously. "No monster? No Erza?"
"Boring," Gajeel grumbled, swallowing a bolt. "I wanted to fight Salamander. Let's just get to the end, shrimp."
Levy slumped in relief. "Thank goodness for your luck, Gajeel."
---
The tunnel for Path A was smooth, the air was cool and still.
Freed Justine walked with his rapier at his hip, his posture perfect. Beside him, Bickslow floated, his totem dolls cackling softly.
"I smell a strong soul," Bickslow stuck out his tongue, his visor glowing.
"Focus," Freed commanded. "Our goal is S-Class."
They stepped out of the tunnel into a wide, circular limestone chamber. The ceiling was open to the sky, allowing a single shaft of sunlight to illuminate the center of the arena.
Standing in the center of that light was Blake Corvus.
He wasn't in a combat stance. He was standing with his hands deep in the pockets of his black trench coat, looking up at the clouds drifting past the opening. His katana, Tensa Zangetsu, was strapped to his hip.
He lowered his gaze as the Thunder Legion members entered.
"Freed. Bickslow," Blake nodded, his voice calm. "Welcome to Path A."
"Blake," Freed bowed slightly, a mark of respect. "I assumed we would face Erza or perhaps Gildarts. To face the 'Black Blade' is an honor, though a difficult one."
"Yeah, yeah!" Bickslow's dolls chimed in. "Difficult! Dangerous! Baby!"
Blake took one hand out of his pocket and used the heel of his boot to draw a simple line in the dust. Then, he drew a circle around himself, about two meters in diameter.
He looked up at them.
"I'm not going to fight you to defeat," Blake said. "So I propose a test with simple terms."
"What are the terms?" Freed asked, his hand hovering over his rapier.
"The test is simple," Blake gestured to the circle. "Make me move."
He planted his feet firmly.
"If you can force me to step outside this circle, or even lift a foot off the ground to take a step, you pass. If you can knock me down, you pass. If you can push me back, you pass."
Blake's eyes sharpened, a faint glimmer of red Haki visible in his irises.
"But if you cannot move me within thirty minutes... you fail."
Freed and Bickslow exchanged a glance.
"Just move him?" Bickslow laughed. "That sounds easy! Let's go, babies! Formation X!"
The five floating dolls surged forward, glowing with green energy. They fired a barrage of high-impact lasers directly at Blake.
Blake didn't blink. He didn't uncross his arms.
Just as the lasers were about to make contact, Blake shifted his upper body slightly to the left. The beams missed him by millimeters, sizzling into the rock behind him.
He swayed back to the right as another volley came. It was like watching a leaf dance in the wind—minimal effort, maximum efficiency.
"He's predicting the trajectory!" Freed analyzed. "Dark Écriture: Pain!"
Freed's rapier flashed. He wrote the runes in the air, sending purple magical constructs flying toward Blake. These weren't physical; they were conceptual. If they touched him, they would inflict blinding agony.
Blake saw the runes coming. He finally moved his hands.
Clang.
He draw his sword and swung it, the sword coated in Armament Haki.
The metal shattered the magical runes on impact.
"What?!" Freed gasped. "He shattered the spell script with physical force?!"
"Don't let up!" Bickslow yelled. "Baryon Formation!"
The dolls spun in a circle, creating a massive vortex of energy. Bickslow launched a concentrated cyclone aimed squarely at Blake's chest. The force was enough to shatter a boulder.
Blake sighed. "Too slow."
He raised his left hand, palm open. His hand turned pitch black with Haki.
BOOM.
The cyclone hit his hand. The ground around the circle cracked. Dust billowed out, obscuring the view.
When the dust cleared, Blake was standing in the exact same spot. He had caught the energy blast with one hand and crushed it.
"Is that all?" Blake asked.
"No!" Freed roared. He knew range wouldn't work. He needed to get close. He needed to use his mastery of fencing.
Freed transformed. "Dark Écriture: Wings!"
Wings of energy sprouted from his back. His speed tripled. He darted forward, his rapier a blur of silver light.
Thrust. Slash. Parry. Feint.
Every strike Freed made was met with a perfect block.
Freed thrust at Blake's throat—Blake tilted his head, the blade grazing his collar.
Freed slashed at Blake's legs to force a jump—Blake slammed the bottom of his scabbard onto Freed's blade, pinning it to the ground without lifting his own feet.
"Figure Eight!" Bickslow shouted, attacking from behind while Freed engaged the front.
A pincer attack.
Blake didn't turn around. He ducked under Freed's high slash, and Freed's blade accidentally deflected Bickslow's laser.
Blake stated calmly, kicking Freed in the chest to send him skidding back. "I can see your intentions before you even fire."
Freed wiped blood from his lip. "He is a fortress. Physical attacks are parried. Magical attacks are dispersed or dodged. Bickslow, we need to combine our arts."
"Aye aye!" Bickslow floated next to him.
"I will use Dark Écriture: Fear to paralyze his senses," Freed plotted quickly. "While he is distracted, you use your Figure: Crush to grab his legs and physically drag him out."
"Got it!"
Freed lunged. "Dark Écriture: FEAR!"
A horrific visage enveloped Blake, a spell designed to instill primal terror and freeze the target.
Blake looked at the illusionary demon face. He looked... bored.
"I've seen scarier things in the mirror after a hangover," Blake deadpanned. His Conqueror's Haki flared for a microsecond, shattering the fear illusion like glass.
"The spell didn't work?!" Freed panicked.
"Now, babies! Grab him!" Bickslow commanded.
The dolls flew low, latching onto Blake's boots. Bickslow channeled all his magic power. "Soul Seizer: HEAVE!"
Simultaneously, Freed charged, turning his body into darkness. "Dark Écriture: Darkness!" He slammed into Blake's chest with the force of a wrecking ball.
It was their ultimate combo. A pull from the bottom and a massive shove from the top.
The dust exploded again. The ground beneath Blake groaned and pulverized into sand.
Freed and Bickslow panted, backing away.
"Did we get him?" Bickslow asked. "We had to move him at least an inch!"
The dust settled.
Blake was standing there.
He had sunk.
Because the ground had pulverized, he was now standing ankle-deep in the crater, but his position relative to the center of the circle hadn't changed. He hadn't taken a step. He had simply been driven down.
Blake brushed some dust off his shoulder. He looked at the two panting mages.
"Clever," Blake admitted.
Freed to his knees, his rapier clattering to the stone. "We cannot move a mountain with our bare hands."
"Don't give up!" Bickslow yelled, though his dolls were smoking and exhausted.
Blake looked at the time on his pocket watch.
"You have ten minutes left," Blake announced. "You're tired. You're out of mana. And I haven't moved an inch."
Blake lifted his Tensa Zangetsu. The pitch-black blade seemed to suck the light out of the room. The air grew heavy, the gravity increasing tenfold just from the release of his spiritual pressure.
"Now," Blake's eyes narrowed, the playfulness gone. "I'm going to start attacking. If you can survive for the next ten minutes without being knocked unconscious... I might consider that a pass."
He took a stance.
"Defend yourselves."
Freed and Bickslow looked at the Demon of Earthland, sword in hand, and for the first time in the trial, they didn't feel like contestants. They felt like prey.