Inside the ruined fortress, silence fell—harsh and heavy.
The last of the Dreadfiends collapsed in a heap of ash and mangled flesh. Cracks lined the blood-soaked stone, and soot clung to every surface. The very air felt scorched, dense with residual mana and the bitter tang of iron.
Leona slid down the nearest wall, armor clinking faintly as she exhaled in exhaustion. "I'm down to twenty percent mana… Maybe less. Even with a break, I won't recover more than half."
Ron, crouched by a fallen pillar, wiped grime from his brow. "Same. I've got some left, but not enough to matter."
Arthur stepped into the center of the battered chamber. Torn sleeves, soot-blackened boots, no visible injuries. His gaze swept over the team—calculating, cold.
"Leona. Jace. Nikolai. You're all nearly tapped."
Nikolai gave a curt nod. "Ten percent. If that."
Jace scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "I… might've gone all in. There's like, one percent left. Maybe."
A unified groan echoed from the group.
"You idiot!"
"How many times were you told to conserve it?!"
"You've got a death wish or what?!"
Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. "Jace, you're at the Eighth Mana Circuit. You should know better."
His eyes sharpened, voice clipped. "But you don't just run dry—you burn your mana like you're trying to impress a corpse."
Jace scowled. "It's my mana. I'll use it how I want!"
Julien turned, voice like frozen steel. "This isn't a duel. It's a raid. Stop acting like the world revolves around you."
Jace faltered, clearly rattled.
"So what now?" he muttered. "What am I supposed to do in the next wave? Just sit here?"
Arthur didn't hesitate. "You'll stay near the Kingdom Core. When your mana stabilizes, you'll rejoin in Phase Three."
"What?! That's—! My points—!"
Arthur's voice dropped into frost. "Disobeying your leader costs ten points. Keep talking, and you'll drop further."
He looked to Tess. "Watch him. If he wanders, I want to know."
Jace ground his teeth, fists clenched—but didn't argue.
Arthur didn't need words to know what the boy was thinking.
His Appraisal skill made it easy:
Jace Albreich. Son of Viscount. Faction: Eisenworth.
Entitled. Spoiled. Dangerous only to his own chances.
[Appraisal: Reveals full details for targets weaker than Arthur. For equals or stronger, only Rank, Name, and Emotional State are shown.]
Julien stepped up. "I've got mana left. I'll recover fully with time."
The others nodded wearily. Pale faces. Drained cores.
Only Arthur remained composed—garments tattered, skin untouched by blood. His eyes were already turned toward the tree line, where the next threat brewed.
Ron cleared his throat. "Should I prep some bombs? I can crank out a few fifth-circuit-grade ones."
Julien nodded. "Do it. Even a small edge helps."
But Arthur raised a hand. "Make them—but hold."
Rodin looked up, puzzled. "What? Why?"
Arthur's gaze didn't waver. "Because I'll take the frontline. Alone."
The room stiffened.
Julien snapped, "You're insane! You'll drain yourself and leave us exposed. You're not invincible!"
Leona stepped forward. "Don't be reckless. You're our anchor."
Arthur's reply came calmly. "I still have full mana."
Bryce narrowed his eyes. "After all that… you still haven't dipped?"
Arthur nodded once. "Not a drop."
Jace barked a laugh. "You expect us to buy that?! What kind of—!"
He didn't finish.
Arthur was suddenly in front of him, hand gripping his collar with crushing force.
"Say another word," he growled, " you uand I'll take the thirty-point penalty just to shutp."
"Arthur!" Julien called sharply. "Let it go."
Arthur released him. Jace slumped, pale and silent.
Julien stepped forward. "If you're really doing this… tell us what you expect."
Arthur's voice dropped low.
"The first wave had a single Rank 1 and dozens of high-level Dreadfiends. So what's next?"
He let the question hang.
"What if they send two Rank 1s? Or worse—two peak-tier Rank 1s?"
Tess's eyes widened. "That's suicide."
"No," Julien said grimly. "It fits. They're scaling with our success. And Arthur already crushed a peak Rank 1 alone."
Ron added, "The stronger the team, the harder the trial. It's in the rules."
Arthur faced them all.
"Julien—you'll lead the defense line. Ring the Kingdom Core. Any beast that slips through me, you end it. If something overwhelming appears… we fight together. Otherwise, let me break the wave."
He turned.
"And Jace… recover. We'll need you next round."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—Tess stepped forward.
"I can amplify you," she said softly. "If I boost your flow and accelerate your regeneration, you might last longer."
Arthur blinked, surprised. But he nodded.
"Do it. But don't burn out."
She gave a slight smile. "I won't."
He turned to the forest again, the wind tugging at his tattered coat.
"If the Core breaks," he whispered, "we all lose."
And without fanfare, he walked forward—into the encroaching night.
A quiet murmur escaped his lips.
"Then I'll be the shield they can't break."
—
Elsewhere…
Smoke still rose across the battlefield. Scars of battle ran like wounds across stone and soil. Over five hundred teams regrouped under golden skies as the leaderboard shimmered into view.
[Phase 1 Live Rankings]
1. Team 12
2. Team 14
3. Team 19
4. Team 17
5. Team 18
In the dim shade of a broken spire, Feldine Sagnius stared at the board.
Fifth.
It wasn't just a number—it was an insult.
His fists clenched at his sides. Pale knuckles, faint black veins pulsing beneath the skin. His black eyes, tinged faintly red, burned with quiet fury.
Let the others whisper. Let them doubt.
He had soloed four Ninth Circuit beasts. He had killed a Rank 1 alone. No backup. No help.
So why…?
"You gonna pout the whole round, or help us next time?"
Feldine didn't turn. He didn't need to.
Davis, blue-haired and too relaxed, stepped over the rubble.
"Don't look at me like that," he said, brushing blood from his brow. "You did say we should sit back while you flexed."
"I won," Feldine replied, voice cold.
Davis' smile faded. "Yeah. You won. But you also screwed our score."
Feldine turned, eyes narrowing.
"You're blaming me?"
"I'm saying you're the leader," Davis snapped. "You shut everyone out. No assists. No shared kills. No momentum. We dropped in rankings because you refused to work with us."
Feldine's silence was glacial.
"I don't want to work with them," he muttered, fangs visible.
"I don't care," Davis replied. "This isn't Phase Zero. You act like this again in Phase Two, and you'll get us all killed."
Suddenly—a chime echoed in Feldine's head.
[System Alert – Task Progress Updated]
Task: Adapt to Team Combat Conditions
Status: Partial Sync.
Penalty: -10 to All Base Stats.
Warning: Further solo behavior will result in additional debuffs.
Feldine's eyes widened. His blood ran colder than ice.
It wasn't just punishment.
It was failure.
He stood in stunned silence… then exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he said, voice like cracking frost. "I'll work with them. But I'm not babysitting."
Davis grinned. "Didn't ask you to. Just don't get us killed, Fangboy."
—
Elsewhere…
Georgina Evans tightened the gauntlets on her wrists. Her golden-brunette hair clung to her sweat-lined face, blue eyes locked on the leaderboard.
Still second.
Nyx stepped beside her, wiping his brow. "Arthur Valerian. He's insane."
Georgina didn't look away. "He's not just strong. He commands like a tactician."
Nyx smirked. "Admiring the enemy?"
She smiled faintly. "Respecting. Not admiring."
Just then—a rustle. From the underbrush emerged a lionkin, tall and broad-shouldered, amber eyes gleaming.
"I am Sergey of Bronze Claw," he said, voice smooth. "I propose an alliance."
Georgina's smile faded. She studied him.
Too clean. Too well-spoken.
She nodded, then shook her head. "We'll pass."
Sergey blinked, then bowed. "As you wish."
But as he turned, his tail flicked—and a smile ghosted across his lips.
—
In a shadowed glade, Sergry regrouped with other captains.
"We have enough," he said. "Forget Team 14. The rest are enough."
"But it's not a kill phase," one muttered.
Kael smiled darkly. "No. But if we wear down the top five… Phase Three will be ours."
He pointed to the board.
"+200 for a core. +100 for a leader. Wait for them to bleed. Then strike."
The others nodded.
And as the final gong echoed—
[Phase Two Beginning – Prepare for Transfer]
—the storm began to gather.