The moment my duel with Zolten ended and the priests helped him off the arena floor, my legs finally stopped trembling. The adrenaline faded, replaced with exhaustion and the hollow throb in my ribs where his hits landed. Still, I made my way to the stands reserved for remaining contestants and sat, watching the rest of the duels unfold.
Most were quick.
Some were brutal.
A few were pitiful.
And yet, all I could think about was the fight I'd had just barely won.
Zolten.
A monster of raw power who absolutely should've passed.
But he didn't.
And that didn't sit right with me.
I watched the final bout of Trial Two end—and then the giant runic array on the colosseum floor activated. A spiraling beam of mana shot upward, creating a dome of shimmering light. A moment later—
Director Raymond appeared in its center.
His cloak fluttered dramatically in the wind, his dark hair glowing under the sunlight. He raised a hand, and his magically-projected voice boomed through every corner of the colosseum.
"CONGRATULATIONS! ALL TWENTY-SIX CONTESTANTS WHO HAVE PASSED TRIAL TWO!!"
The crowd erupted.
Cheers shook the arena.
Confetti rained down in waves, glittering like tiny stars.
Illusion magic filled the sky with lions made of flame, rings of light bursting above us like fireworks.
It was beautiful.
It should've felt victorious.
But all I felt was… uneasy.
Was I the only one bothered that the strongest people weren't necessarily the ones who passed?
Zolten wasn't the only capable contender eliminated. There were several others who performed amazingly—but lost by misjudgment, bad luck, or one fatal mistake.
This exam wasn't just about skill.
It was about something else too.
But before I could dwell further, Director Raymond's tone changed.
A heavy, authoritative shift.
"This year," he said, glancing up at the royal glass box, "the requirements for the third and final trial… will differ."
The colosseum fell silent.
He cleared his throat and continued.
"In all 187 years of the Knight's Apprentice Exam, this year's exam shall be the most challenging. The most demanding. The most unforgiving."
A murmur rippled through the stands.
And then he dropped it:
"The third trial shall be a subjugation mission."
My breath froze.
A subjugation mission?
For trainees?
Director Raymond continued as if he hadn't just announced a death sentence.
"Each of you will receive a quest. You may complete it alone or in groups of your choosing. Group size is unrestricted. Cooperation is strongly encouraged."
Of course it was.
Because the smart choice was obvious: form a team.
But I already knew what I was going to do.
Juno was standing far off with two other trainees—nervous, injured, scared, but smiling at me. He had friends. People who wanted him on their team.
I couldn't take that from him.
And I couldn't drag him into my hell.
So when everyone around me broke into clusters—whispering, negotiating, rushing to latch onto the prodigies or other powerful fighters—I stayed still.
Like a rock in a river.
Alone.
The Quest Board
All twenty-six survivors were teleported to the center arena, encircling an enormous glowing board filled with quest papers. Hundreds of runic sheets floated and rotated in the air. Each quest was categorized into four tiers:
Easy
Normal
Difficult
Challenging
Director Raymond started explaining again.
"You must complete at least one quest. However—if you select an Easy-tier, you must complete three subjugations."
A few contestants snickered.
"Easy is easy," someone whispered.
Idiots.
The moment my eyes scanned the Easy-tier list, my blood went cold.
C-tier monsters. All of them.
And three missions required??
That wasn't "easy."
That was a cleverly disguised death trap.
Director Raymond smiled charmingly.
"This shouldn't be too hard if you are in groups."
Exactly.
Groups.
Strength in numbers.
Cover each other.
Survive.
Everyone except me.
The crowd buzzed as teams formed.
I felt the eyes on me—some curious, some mocking, some malicious.
Then Director Raymond suddenly paused as he looked around.
His eyes widened theatrically.
"…Oh?"
He pointed at me.
"It appears… there is ONE contestant who remains without a group."
The crowd's murmurs turned sharp.
Whispers.
Sneers.
Confusion.
Then the director shouted:
"AND IT IS THE WINNER OF TRIAL ONE—RAIN!!"
The stadium erupted again—but this time with a different energy.
A mix of awe—
And hostility.
I stepped forward because I had to.
Because the director was calling me.
Because everyone's eyes were stabbing into my back.
He grinned like he was enjoying the performance.
"Since Rain is taking the final trial alone…"
"…he shall receive the first pick."
The entire colosseum went still.
I walked toward the quest board, each step echoing in the unnatural silence.
I should've chosen Normal-tier.
It was the smartest choice.
Even Normal quests were B-tier monsters—tough, but doable.
But my hand drifted upward, toward the section labeled:
DIFFICULT
Something inside me moved.
A voice.
A burning.
A stubborn defiance.
If I wanted to rise—
Truly rise—
It wouldn't be through the safe route.
My fingers grasped the paper glowing with red runes.
The moment I pulled it from the board, the runes flared ominously.
The entire arena hushed.
I read the quest.
My heart thudded once.
"SUBJUGATION QUEST: ORC WAR-BAND
Location: Far Northeast of Lionhearth, Frostveil Forest."
Orcs.
Not goblins.
Orcs.
Monsters that shattered bones with their bare hands.
C-tier? B-tier? No.
A full war-band easily touched A-tier.
I heard someone gasp.
Someone else swore.
Then—
Silence.
Dead silence.
Like the very air was judging me.
I stepped forward and handed the quest sheet to the knight attending the board. He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind, then slowly nodded, swallowing nervously.
"Candidate Rain… when will you depart?"
I answered without hesitation.
"Tomorrow. Before sunrise."
A shiver crawled up my spine.
The malice behind me—
I could feel it.
From contestants.
From nobles in the stands.
From those who hated the idea of a commoner stepping out of line.
But I ignored all of them and left the arena.
As I walked back to the academy dorms, preparing for the journey—
I didn't notice the commotion erupting in the glass box.
In the Glass Viewing Box
Sir Zenite—
quiet, reserved, always composed—
burst into laughter.
The general, commander, knight captains, and even the royal family jerked their heads toward him, startled.
King Leon IX frowned.
"Zenite… What in the world are you laughing at?"
Zenite wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling.
"That damn brat… of course he picked that quest."
Queen Lucina blinked.
"You find this amusing?"
"Amusing?" Zenite grinned wide—practically feral.
"No. I find it exhilarating."
Commander Modred leaned forward.
"Do you understand what he just chose? Orcs, Zenite. A war-band."
Zenite leaned back in his seat, arms behind his head.
"If he wanted to survive comfortably, he wouldn't have become my student."
Captain Korrina whispered:
"…He'll die."
Zenite's smile vanished instantly.
His eyes sharpened into cold steel.
"If he dies from something like this… then he was never meant to stand beside me to begin with."
Everyone fell silent.
Because they realized something then:
Zenite wasn't joking.
He wasn't bragging.
He wasn't hopeful.
He was evaluating Rain.
Measuring him.
Testing whether I was worth the gamble.
Worth the danger.
Worth the future Zenite saw in me.
Tomorrow morning. Before sunrise.
I would depart.
Alone.
To slay monsters that could rip me in half.
To prove something I didn't fully understand yet.
To awaken something that I needed to have to move onto the next level.