The Ascension Trials had been running for barely thirty minutes, and the sky was already crying red.
Literally.
Crimson rain poured down, each drop sizzling when it hit the ground. The massive floating scoreboard in the heavens updated every few seconds:
FIGHTERS REMAINING: 4,673 TIME LEFT: 23:29:44
Haru Cyrius wiped blood—someone else's—off his face and kept moving. The golden chains around his arms rattled with every punch he threw. His Celestial Breaker was waking up, slow but steady, like a beast stretching after a long nap.
He'd already dropped six random dudes who thought exiled kid meant easy target. Wrong.
Now he sprinted across a floating island made of jagged black glass. Lightning cracked overhead. In the distance, entire forests burned while ice mountains exploded.
This place was insane.
A scream cut through the storm.
Haru skidded to a stop at the edge of a massive crater. Down below, a full-on war was popping off.
Twenty fighters circled each other in the pouring blood-rain. At the center? Two absolute monsters clashing like gods having a tantrum.
On one side: Leonhardt Weiss, the Exiled Lion. Golden armor cracked but still shining, massive broadsword swinging in arcs that carved the air itself. His mane-like hair whipped wild, eyes burning with that "I'll protect what's mine" fire.
Facing him: Khaleed Basha, the Desert Rogue. Twin curved daggers flashing like mirages, body blurring every time he dodged. Sand clones popped up and vanished, laughing as they stabbed from blind spots.
The announcer's voice boomed again, loving every second:
"LOOK AT THIS CLASH OF LEGENDS! LEONHARDT WEISS, THE EXILED LION—once a prince, now a beast hungry for justice! Versus KHALEED BASHA, THE DESERT ROGUE—cunning trickster who'll steal your girl and your life in the same breath!"
Leonhardt roared, sword slamming down in a golden shockwave.
"Lionheart Awakening!"
The impact cratered the ground. Khaleed flipped backward, grinning like a cheeky bastard.
"Too slow, kitty cat!"
"Mirage Sand Clone!"
Ten identical Khaleeds appeared, all rushing in with daggers glowing.
Leonhardt didn't flinch. He spun, blade exploding with light, cutting through clones like paper. Real Khaleed laughed from above, diving down for the kill.
But Leonhardt was ready—parried the strike, grabbed Khaleed by the throat, and slammed him into the dirt.
"Honor demands I give you a clean death."
Khaleed coughed blood but still smirked.
"Honor? Cute. Check your back, princey."
Leonhardt's eyes widened.
Too late.
A ribbon blade wrapped around his arm from the shadows. Suyin Hua, the Death Dancer, materialized like a ghost—silent, graceful, deadly. Her black hair flowed like ink, eyes empty but focused.
She yanked hard. Leonhardt's guard broke for a split second.
Khaleed didn't miss it—both daggers plunged toward the lion's chest.
CLANG!
A holy spear knocked the blades away at the last moment.
Clara landed between them, spear spinning, gentle smile still on her face.
"Sorry, boys! Can't let you kill each other yet—my sister needs strong opponents later!"
The three froze, sizing her up.
Then all hell broke loose again.
Haru, watching from the crater rim, muttered, "This is nuts. They're all built different."
He was about to sneak away when a cold voice spoke behind him.
"Enjoying the show, stolen hero?"
Haru spun.
Yura Zahdavel stood there, black coat dripping red rain, twin void blades resting on his shoulders. Shadows clung to him like loyal dogs.
Haru forced a grin. "Yo, Executioner. Came to watch or join?"
Yura's eyes narrowed.
"Both."
Before Haru could react, Yura vanished—Voidstep.
He reappeared behind Haru, blade already swinging for the neck.
Haru ducked on pure instinct, Celestial Breaker flaring. Golden energy coated his fist as he countered with a brutal uppercut.
Yura blocked with the flat of his blade, but the force still sent him sliding back ten feet.
"Not bad," Yura said, almost sounding bored. "But you're holding back. Afraid of the power you lost?"
Haru clenched his fists. "Shut up."
Yura smirked—first emotion Haru had seen on him.
"Good. Anger makes you sharper."
Then Yura dashed in, blades turning into black blurs.
Haru met him head-on. Fists vs shadow swords. Every clash sent shockwaves that shattered the glass ground.
Below, the four-way fight escalated.
Suyin danced through attacks like wind, ribbons slicing armor. Clara healed her own wounds mid-fight, spear glowing brighter with every stab. Leonhardt tanked hits like a wall, roaring challenges. Khaleed played them all, clones everywhere, laughing maniacal.
The announcer was losing his mind:
"ABSOLUTE CARNAGE! FOUR MYTHICAL BEASTS IN ONE CRATER! WHO SURVIVES? WHO GETS BETRAYED FIRST?"
And betrayal came quick.
Khaleed suddenly threw a dagger—not at Leonhardt, but at Clara's back while she blocked Suyin.
Clara gasped, spinning too late.
But the dagger froze mid-air.
Farah Hanazel stepped out of a dream-like mist, hand raised. Purple sand swirled around her fingers.
"Nightmare Bloom."
The dagger melted into butterflies made of shadow. Farah's playful eyes turned sharp.
"No fair ganging up on the healer. Bad manners."
Khaleed whistled. "Well, hello gorgeous. Wanna team up instead?"
Farah blushed but stood firm. "N-No! I'm here to win too!"
Leonhardt used the chaos—charged Khaleed with everything.
Suyin vanished into shadows, reappearing behind Farah for a silent kill.
Clara thrust her spear to intercept.
It was pure madness.
Up top, Haru and Yura's duel reached fever pitch.
Yura's Voidstep Decapitation activated—three afterimages all swinging for Haru's head at once.
Haru's eyes glowed gold.
"Celestial Breaker—First Release!"
Chains exploded off his arms. Spiritual energy erupted like a geyser. He grabbed one afterimage—real Yura—and headbutted him hard enough to crack the air.
Yura flew back, blood on his lip for the first time.
He actually smiled.
"You'll do."
Then Yura shadow-stepped away, vanishing into the storm.
Haru panted, confused. "The hell was that? Sparring session?"
A massive explosion rocked the crater.
Haru looked down.
Only two fighters still stood: Leonhardt, armor half-gone, breathing heavy—and Clara, spear planted in the ground, gentle smile now tired but victorious.
Khaleed's Crest had turned black—teleported out unconscious.
Suyin and Farah were gone too—eliminated or fled.
The scoreboard updated:
FIGHTERS REMAINING: 4,512
Clara looked up, spotted Haru, and waved like they were old friends.
"Thanks for not jumping in! Want to team up for a bit? Temporary only!"
Leonhardt growled but didn't argue.
Haru jumped down, landing with a crack.
"Why not? Better than dying alone."
The three shared a tense nod.
In the distance, more epic clashes lit up the horizon:
Prince Wildane surfing storm winds, cutting down a horde of lesser fighters.
Akira Qadrawi floating in a rune circle, casually deleting an entire platoon with one Arcane Cataclysm.
Lady Sakura standing on a bridge of cherry blossoms, katana dripping blood, surrounded by defeated samurai wannabes.
Xyphira laughing as she whipped a circle of dudes into submission—literally.
Azra roaring through a jungle, beasts and fighters running or dying.
The blood rain kept falling.
Alliances formed and shattered in minutes.
Screams, explosions, epic one-liners echoing everywhere.
Haru tightened his fists, feeling the Crest burn.
23:10:22 remaining.
"This is just the warm-up," he muttered.
The announcer's voice thundered one last time for the hour:
"FIRST HOUR DOWN—ALMOST FIVE HUNDRED GONE ALREADY! KEEP BLEEDING, CHAMPIONS! THE ARENA LOVES THE SHOW!"