The arene bell clang reverberated through the arena like a death bell. Lucien's stomach felt heavy—but there was no fear left in him, only resolve. Across from him, the Grynnathak stood poised, its eight spidy legs braced, mandibles gaping in an otherworldly snarl. Its dark crimson carapace rippled with muscle beneath barbed armor plates, each spike glinting with lethal intent.
For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
Lucien sprinted forward towards the Grynnathak.
Then the Grynnathak lashed out of anger.
A massive foreleg smashed into Lucien's chest with the force of a big truck. The impact removed all the air from Lucien his lungs and hurled him backward like a ragdoll. He struck the far wall of the big arena—dust exploding, stone shattered—and Lucien flew a 100 feet before skidding he hit the wall of the arena.
Not a single one of his lungs functioned anymore. He layd there, stunned, vision blurring with blood as he tried to draw one single breath. Above him, the Grynnathak's great bulk towered, every spike and edge aimed to kill him.
From the observation deck, Rylen, Jason, and Emiluna stumbled of their seats as they watched their family member his body sail through the air. Rylen's jaw hung open. Jason's got angry and clenched his fist until his knuckles whitened; he muttered dark threats under his breath. Threatening to kill the higher ups. Emiluna, normally very composed, covered her mouth, tears shining in her gorgeous eyes.
"He's done for," Jason whispered hoarsely. "I swear… if Lucien dies, I'll—"
A flicker of something gold sparked around Lucien's body. He coughed up blood, blood spitting from his lips, then sat up with brutal effort. His lungs burned like hell, but his body already forming itself back together.
Regeneration: 1/5
He tasted dust. He tasted grit. He tasted survival.
Lucien forced himself to his feet, every breath felt like a dagger is his ribs. He placed a hand on the wall of the arena—cracked stone gave way beneath his grip. As flesh and bone reknit, he realized the limitations of his healing: only four more full regenerations before his body reached its absolute limit.
His eyes focussed. He could not rely on his healing ability. This trial demanded something else.
He flexed his finger, feeling his telekinetic energy pulse beneath his skin. He drew a deep breath of iced determination.
New tactic: Telekinesis.
Without any type of warning, Lucien's eyes glowed a pale violet. He extended both arms, fingers splayed, and willed his telekinetic power outward towards the monster. A wave of invisible force slammed into the Grynnathak's stomach, lifting the beast five feet off its legs.
The arena trembled beneath its tremendous weight.
Lucien was in complete focus. He hurled the Grynnathak forward and backward like a child's ragdoll—slam, rebound, slam again. Each impact cracked the stone, each reverberation echoing like thunder in a storm.
But the monster did not surrender. Its armored carapace thickened even further—an adaptive reaction. Thick plates fused, spikes hardened more and more, and its bulk increased. The telekinetic waves bounced off its new shell as if hitting metal.
When Lucien conceded and lowered his arms and fingers, they faced each other again—fighter and warbreed—both panting, both poised for the next move.
Lucien retreated to the edge of the red circle and closed his eyes for a second, summoning his mind-reading ability. The two remained locked in psychic silence—Lucien probing, the Grynnathak resisting with a savage will.
He tasted its thoughts: malice, hunger, delight in suffering, an instinct to tear him apart limb by limb and kill him. It spoke in clicks and snarls, but the emotion was universal: kill, kill and kill.
He opened his eyes. "So you want to kill me ay big boy," he muttered. "I get it."
He advanced on the Grynnathak.
Lucien braced both feet on the ground, then launched himself forward in a blur of motion. He had maxed at 100 mph in the trial—but now, adrenaline and purpose pushed him even further. He finally surpassed the speed of sound, so fast that the air around him crackled.
The Grynnathak couldn´t react to Lucien his movement. Lucien slammed both fists into its armored chest. This time, the plates cracked open. Joints cracked. The beast staggered behind, claws tearing grooves in the sand as it tried to follow the intangible blur of Lucien's new form.
Lucien whirled around the monster and delivered a spinning back-kick the size of a battering ram, thrashing the beast fifty feet into the arena's wall. This time it was the monster who fell in the arena ´ s wall. The impact gouged a massive crater in the stone. Dust rained down. For the first time, the spectators—Rylen, Jason, Emiluna—cheered a little.
"Hell fucking yeah!" Jason roared. "That's my boy!"
Confidence surged through Lucien his body for the first time. He leapfrogged forward again and struck in a relentless combo: fists raining like heavy hammer blows—fifty hits in one single second. Each strike hammered a different weak point: a gap in the plating here, a glowing joint there, chinking golden lightning into the Grynnathak's exposed flesh.
The beast's carapace cracked open. Armor shards flew. The Grynnathak screamed in agony. The stands shook with the sound. Even the Higher-Ups leaned forward behind their curtain.
But as the final blow landed, something very unexpected happened.
The Grynnathak's body shook. Cracked plates reknit with abnormal speed. The barbs on its back swelled, exuding dark venom that rippled across its skin like veins. It screamed again as the transformation completed in an instant.
Where once it had been thirty feet tall, it now towered a staggering 150 feet—five times as big as its its original height. Every spike thickened, every joint elongated. Its eight legs spread like the tentacles. Venom dripped from its long fangs. The air quivered with the stench of a dirty death.
Jason's grin froze after that. Rylen's eyes widened. Emiluna gasped for air.
The monster took a breath—an earthquake in a single breath.
With very abnormal speed for a creature of its size, the Grynnathak lashed its forelegs. Lucien dodged it, but a single barb nicked his shoulder slightly, injecting a lethal dose of poison. He staggered and sat down.
Then the beast reared and sprayed a flood of black-green venom into the sand around Lucien—poison that sizzled the ground, sent clouds of toxic mist swirling. It turned into a kill zone. Lucien found himself in a pile of poison, through the noxious fumes, each breath Lucien took he felt a burning poison in his lungs.
Rylen's shouts echoed from above: "MOVE, LUCIEN!"
Jason stood up, darting to find a vantage point. Emiluna dabbed frantically at her mask.
The Higher-Ups murmured among themselves. "He won't last a minute longer." "Why even try?" "He'll drown in venom in the next minute."
Lucien's vision went dark. His body was in deep agony as the poison spread through his body. Four times he willed his regenerative power to activate—flesh knitting, toxins expelled from his body, organs cleansed. Each regeneration drained him to the bone.
Regeneration: 5/5
He stood on trembling legs, emptiness in his veins. No regeneration remained. If he healed again, his body would shatter and he would die.
He clutched his head. Poison. Pain. Despair.
But beneath it all, a spark remained—pure, relentless will to survive.
In that crucial moment, something within him ignited. A burning but beautifull white-blue flame erupted from his core, swirling outward in waves of divine light. He felt the divine power surge through his entire body—a power he'd never known he had, pulsing with the essence of vengeance and purity.
He'd unlocked Purgeflame.
A silent calm settled over the arena as that aura expanded in a perfect sphere.
Total Venom Erasure: The first wave of Purgeflame went outward, a crackling shell of white-blue energy. It dissolved every toxin within a one-mile radius—neutralizing the Grynnathak's poison entirely, burning it away like acid in fire. The ground sizzled, but Lucien remained untouched. The poison dissolved in midair.
Venom Resistance: A second layer of Purgeflame got unlocked in Lucien's body. Any residual venom the Grynnathak had injected in him now crystalized, then was absorbed and converted into raw energy that bolstered Lucien's strength even more.
Spiritflame Reaction: The final aspect manifested when the Grynnathak, enraged, spat the last bit of venom imbued with dark magic. The moment it left the Monster his maw, Purgeflame flared—absorbing the demonic toxin and refracting it back at the monster in a burst of holy fire.
The Grynnathak screamed—a sound that rattled the very walls—and staggered.
Now finally cleansed, Lucien launched himself forward with the speed of sound with primal fury. No weapons, no tricks up his sleeve—just his fists against the warbreed's armored hide. He closed the distance in less than a second and delivered a crushing right hook to a knee joint—bone breaking under the force.
It countered with a monstrous punch with his leg. Lucien twisted, took the blow on his forearm, and countered with an uppercut in the monster his stomach that sent the beast flying across the cratered floor.
The Grynnathak landed with earth-shaking thud but scrambled up of its feet, eight taloned feet tearing into the sand. It reared and lashed a pair of legs at Lucien's head—he ducked all of its attacks, then unleashed a combo of punches, each blow ringing like a hammer on steel.
For five mortal minutes, they traded blow for blow, neither yielding to eachother. Lucien's arms hurt. His vision blurred with sweat, battle-lust and blood. But Purgeflame's warmth sang through his veins—he did not feel tired.
In a sudden shift of tactics, Lucien gripped the sand beneath him and unleashed telekinesis once more—but this time, with Purgeflame augmenting the force. The Grynnathak's massive form lifted skyward, crushing boulders and dust in its wake.
Up… then down… up… then down. Again and again.
Three… four… five hundred times.
With each slam, Lucien felt the beast's mass weaken more and more. His power was a hammer. Its shell, a nail.
On the thousandth slam, the warbreed's armor shattered completly for the first time. Its carapace collapsed inward. Flesh and armor splintered. A final, ragged scream died on its lips.
It hung suspended for a moment—then fell like a monument crashing to its knees.
Silence enveloped the arena. No wind stirred. Even the heavy black curtains concealing the Higher-Ups drooped in stunned stillness.
Lucien stood amidst the wreckage he created, chest heaving, Purgeflame flickering over his body like living light. Blood ran down his face. His fists trembled—but he raised both arms in victory.
He strode to the fallen Grynnathak and climbed its broken backplates. There, he stood tall, fists raised high, victorious.
"I AM LUCIEN!" he roared, voice carrying across the silent arena. "First recruit in history to survive the Death Trial!"
The bell rang once more— not as a death bell, but as a triumphant peal.
In the stands, Rylen, Jason, and Emiluna leapt to their feet. Rylen's fist punched the air several times. Jason whooped and pounded his chest. Emiluna sobbed tears of relief and joy, hands clasped.
The glass box above lifted. The Higher-Ups' silhouettes emerged—one by one they gave a single nod of approval behind their curtains.
Captain Karu Arakizawa strode into the arena, unfazed by the wreckage around him. He approached Lucien with measured steps.
"You have done what none before you could," Karu said proud, voice echoing. "You have overcome the Death Trial. You are officially inducted into the Nightguard Corps—Division Five."
A roar of approval thundered from the assembled Corps members beyond the walls of the broken arena.
Lucien hopped down and bowed before Karu. "Thank you, Captain Karu Arakizawa."
"You earned this," Karu replied. "Welcome home, Lucien."
Lucien turned to Rylen, Jason, and Emiluna. "We did it guys."
They closed in for a group hug, the three of them pressing in as the rain of dust from the fallen Grynnathak settled around them.
As word spread through the Corps that Lucien survived, whispers of Lucien's triumph echoed in every hall and in every division. The monstrous arena was already being cleared, the portals resealed, and the Grynnathak's corpse taken for study.
But in Lucien's mind, a profound calm finally settled. He had stared into death's fangs and survived. He had embraced his divine gift without fear. And he had found his place and family—even if it was in the "weakest" division, he knew he would protect his family forever.
The next morning, the sky was clear and the sun was out. The first rays of sunlight crowned the Command Post in gold.
Lucien stood on the balcony of Division Five's command post, looking east. At his back were his friends, his family, his Division.
He closed his eyes for a moment. The wind whispered a promise of new battles, new trials, and new chances to improve.
And Lucien—The vessel of Vengeance, survivor of the Death Trial—smiled in the dawn.