The mont the Verdant Veil group stepped through the towering gates of the Grand Arena, the air changed.
The space before them was colossal. It was so vast and open that, for a mont, Lucien wondered if they’d stepped into a different world entirely.
He even thought that entire armies could train here. Even sects could wage war across this massive field, and the arena would still hold.
The central grounds stretched like an endless plain of reinforced stone. Each slab was etched with runes that felt older than the continent itself.
Marie let out a low whistle.
"Is this still an arena...?"
Eirene nodded.
"The Grand Arena reflects the philosophy of the Solar Concordium. Here, competition becos law."
Hundreds of groups were already present, arranged loosely into clusters. Sect banners flapped in the stirred mana-winds. Power levels, techniques, and killing intents rose and fell across the field like waves.
Lucien scanned the crowd.
He spotted the three great sects of the Sareth Region instantly.
The Lunareth Sect stood to the north, dressed in quiet silver robes. The sec mbers lifted their hands and waved toward Eirene’s group in gentle acknowledgent.
Marie blinked.
"Whoa. You know them?"
Eirene gave a soft sigh.
"Yes..." she replied with strange nostalgia. Then added, "...rchants always cross paths with the Stillness practitioners. They often seek rare materials to harmonize their Laws."
Towards their south stood the other two sects. The Nephralis Sect with fla motifs licking up their robes. The Varkhaal Sect draped in shadows and twilight.
Both sides radiated hostility as if challenging the world simply by existing.
Lucien humd.
"Hmph. They look excited. Probably hoping to farm items out of the ruin."
Eirene snorted softly.
"That’s what makes them dangerous."
All around them, strange and powerful races gathered.
Goliaths crackled with storm energy.
Reptilian tribes with slit pupils gleaming gold.
Ironclads with bodies like living armor.
Feykin with crystalline hair.
Beast clans like dogs, serpents, and falcons.
Each group radiated confidence.
They were here to win.
But then—
Lucien felt sothing. His gaze drifted toward a far corner.
Five black-robed figures stood there, silent, motionless... and yet—
His instincts jolted.
Sothing was wrong with the air around them.
Wrong... yet oddly familiar.
Their presence wasn’t overflowing. It wasn’t loud but it was deep... like looking at shadows cast by sothing that didn’t exist.
Eirene noticed where he was looking and leaned closer.
"That group... be cautious," she whispered. "They’re among the mysterious beings our record keepers failed to identify when they erged from the intercontinental teleportation array. It’s best not to provoke them."
Lucien nodded slowly, yet he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back.
The leader of that group, a tall masked man with faint silver patterns on his sleeves, turned slightly and t Lucien’s eyes.
A heartbeat of silence.
And then—
The masked figure gave Lucien a slow nod.
A gesture neither friendly nor hostile...
just... knowing.
Lucien’s eyes narrowed.
Before he could think further, the sky pulsed with gold.
A voice bood across the entire arena.
It carried the weight of Law itself.
[ Welco, contenders. ]
The Grand Arena vibrated.
The voice continued:
[ The Trial of Ascendancy shall now begin.
The first test will be simple... and rciless. ]
A hush fell across the gathered powers.
Eirene frowned.
"Simple and rciless? That combination is never good..."
The official elaborated.
[ Each group will send one representative for the First Trial.
Only one.
No substitutions once chosen. ]
Gasps erupted across the crowd.
"Only one? Out of hundreds of groups?!"
"That’s insane! What kind of test is this?"
"Don’t tell —"
The voice finished...
[ The First Trial is... The Battle Royale of Fate. ]
Chaos spread instantly.
A battle royale?
With over a hundred representatives fighting at once?
Marie blinked.
"Oh. OH. We’re gonna die."
The official continued, unfazed.
[ All selected representatives will enter the Fate Platform.
Once inside, all realms will be suppressed to the strength of mortals.
Only your skill, experience, and comprehension of Laws shall remain. ]
Lucien’s brows rose.
Suppressing the realms ant—
No Ascendant domains. No aura explosions. No Law pressure.
Everyone started equal.
...Well, equal on paper.
[ Those who fall or surrender are imdiately eliminated. The last twenty standing advance. ]
"Only twenty?"
Panic rippled through the weaker groups.
Then—
[ The lottery for representatives will now begin. ]
The air stirred as the Concordium’s lottery orb activated.
Nas and banners flickered across the sky.
Every group held their breath.
And then—
[ Verdant Veil Consortium — Lucien ]
The Verdant group sagged in collective despair.
"What?"
"Wait! He’s still new to these kinds of fights!"
"We’re done. Why would fate pick the one with the weakest realm?!"
Eirene, however, did not despair.
She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and muttered...
"...Calm down, everyone. Rember. Everyone will be equal in the Fate Platform.
Well... at least fate has good taste."
Lucien sighed.
"Good taste or malicious humor, who knows."
Marie shot him a thumbs-up.
"Well... I don’t need to say anything grand. Just... kick the bad ones directly on their mory card!"
Lucien tilted his head.
"mory card...?"
"Oh, co on. It’s not like you’re new to this. Aim for the head. To the head, alright?"
"How am I supposed to understand that?!"
The others who overheard felt chills.
The two were discussing violence with absurdly casual ease.
anwhile, in the distance, Ignathar of Nephralis smirked.
"Hah. That Wolf cub again. Fate truly has a sense of humor."
Varun clicked his tongue.
"He’ll die."
Ignathar cracked his knuckles.
"Well, I was known as the prodigy crusher."
Varun scoffed.
"And yet you still can’t crush ?"
"Are you even a prodigy?"
"You...!"
Lucien heard them and ignored them completely.
He decided then and there.
He would kick them on their "mory cards" today, no matter what that ant.
Suddenly—
A massive circular platform burst upward from the center of the arena. It was encased in layers of floating runes.
The ground shook as it ascended.
Marie whispered:
"...Luc. That thing looks big enough to kill soone just by falling."
Lucien shrugged.
"At least I know the insurance coverage is divine-grade."
The Solar Concordium’s voice rolled gently across the arena.
[ Again, to ensure absolute fairness:
All participants shall step onto the platform as equals.
All realms silenced.
Only raw skill shall remain. ]
Marie whispered...
"So basically... we’re going to be mortal punching bags."
Lucien smirked.
"Speak for yourself."
[ Let the Trial of Ascendancy begin. ]
The sky detonated in golden light.
Every selected contender vanished in a flash including Lucien...
...and they appeared inside the Fate Platform.
•••
The world lurched.
Light dissolved... and the next instant, Lucien’s feet struck solid stone.
He sucked in a breath.
The Fate Platform spread before him, easily a kiloter across.
It’s a circular arena bordered by a translucent barrier that pulsed with the Solar Concordium’s authority.
But the shock ca a heartbeat later.
Everything inside him... went quiet.
His Transcendent aura dimd to a whisper.
His access to Laws folded shut like a sealed to.
Even his physical strength was cut down to mortal limits.
It felt as if soone reached inside him and turned every dial down to zero.
Lucien’s lungs tightened at the sensation.
"...Ah. This feeling."
It wasn’t fear.
Nor frustration.
It was nostalgia.
He curled his fingers into a fist.
"...Mortal level."
He rolled his shoulders experintally.
His limbs were heavier. His reactions were slower. His senses were muted.
But inside those limitations, everything that truly mattered remained intact.
His skills. His perception. His battle instincts.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"...Strength is gone but skills are eternal. More than enough to play around."
Across the platform, the sa realization crashed over the others.
Ascendants gasped like fish thrown onto land.
Transcendents swore under their breath.
Others staggered as if struck with sudden vertigo.
A wave of silence swept the arena.
Hundreds of prodigies, all stripped bare, stood in a slowly tightening ring.
Eyes shifted.
Hearts hamred.
Calculations began.
No one wanted to make the first irreversible move.
Then—
A pebble rolled.
An independent practitioner stepped forward.
Lean fra. Shaved head. Winter-blue eyes that glead with grit.
He flexed his mortal-strength arms and addressed everyone.
"...Listen well. Those with sects or clans have protections. We independents? We’ll be the first ones to be eliminated."
As if in a cue, another independent stepped beside him.
Then three more. Then seven. Then ten.
Within monts, twenty independent practitioners aligned shoulder to shoulder, forming a solid half-circle.
The shaved-head leader lifted his chin.
"We form a coalition. A temporary alliance. We eliminate the sect elites first before they eliminate us."
His voice rang across the Fate Platform.
So scoffed.
So smirked.
But many... many beca visibly uneasy.
Because a battle royale wasn’t just about strength.
It was a battlefield of numbers.
Positioning.
Montum.
Survival by coordination.
And a disciplined group of twenty fighters was no joke.
A towering Goliath cracked his knuckles, grinning.
"Twenty mortals. Cute."
Ignathar of Nephralis laughed coldly.
"Co, then. I’ve crushed prodigies stronger than you while yawning."
Varun, the shadow fist of the Varkhaal Sect, rolled his neck.
"Let them co. Death always starts with the ambitious."
Lucien rely watched.
Sensing the shifting lines. Watching alliances form. Mapping the first five minutes of the battle in his mind.
He inhaled once.
And so...
The Trial of Ascendancy truly began.
User Comments
0 comments from readers