Michael’s eyes narrowed at the distant bursts of orange and gold cutting through the mist.
Brian.
Just thinking of him made Michael’s jaw tighten. Getting attacked for no reason by soone he knew was already infuriating enough.
But what made it worse was the ridiculous strength Brian had displayed.
If Michael hadn’t known his own true strength, this humiliation alone might have been enough to shatter soone else.
He hated to admit it, but Brian’s display of power gnawed at him. For a newly awakened, it bordered on monstrous.
With that level of power, skills alone couldn’t account for it—Brian’s class level had to be higher than most at their stage.
Michael himself was an anomaly too, but his circumstances were unique, shaped by conditions that couldn’t be replicated.
So beyond the sharp edge of hate, there was sothing else simring inside him—curiosity.
If Michael had known Brian was only lashing out to feed his own pride, desperate to feel strong by forcing Michael into retreat, the knowledge would have only deepened his anger.
"Annoying bastard," Michael muttered, his breath white in the mist.
The explosions in the distance flared brighter, echoing louder through the fog.
Michael hesitated only a breath longer. Then he pushed forward again, Ghostwind Steps pulling him back toward the heat of the fight
The fog split wider as he approached, the outlines of several figures dancing in the glow of fire. A quick glance revealed Seven.
All of them converging on one point, their movents sharp and hungry.
Michael slowed, his eyes flicking over the scene, and imdiately pieced it together.
One could say this challenge was a battle of roles .
Roles. The system had divided the participants into roles for this trial.
Hunters, Hunted, and Freen.
Hunters hunted the Hunted. The Hunted tried to survive, scrambling not to be caught. Freen—people like him—had their own path, hunting the Hunter to gain boosts before the cycle reset.
Seven against one could only an one thing. They were Hunters. And the one desperately holding them back with firestorms, straining to keep them at a distance... was Brian.
Michael’s eyes narrowed. His own map had been blank, giving him nothing to track with. But seeing the Hunters press Brian in such numbers made him suspect sothing.
Maybe the Hunters and Hunted had so way to locate each other directly, unlike the Freen.
That would explain how they found him so quickly.
The seven weren’t weak. Not exactly. Individually, each one would’ve been nothing in front of Brian’s power. But together they closed in like wolves, blades flashing and spells bursting in tandem.
And still, Brian raged against them. His mastery over fire wasn’t just a show—he was actually holding his ground, even as he staggered back under the press of blades and spells.
Michael’s brow furrowed as he studied his enemy.
Brisn wasn’t letting any of them get near. His fire pushed outward keeping every attacker at bay.
That was telling.
Michael’s lips pressed into a thin line.
So, that’s it.
The one thing Brian couldn’t afford... was close combat.
If he had a weakness in this space, it was probably his physical stats based on his actions.
Michael stayed crouched in the mist, watching as the fire mage threw another storm of heat to scatter the Hunters.
The fact that Brian was still standing was proof of his strength. Even crippled in this virtual space, the boy was monstrous.
Whether every other dual class awakener was like this was uncertain.
*
Brian’s firestorm tapered for the briefest mont as Michael vanished into the mist. His eyes narrowed, a sharp exhale leaving his lips.
"So he ran..."
A flicker of satisfaction stirred in his chest, but in the very next mont—
BOOM!
The ground shuddered, and figures broke through the haze.
Seven of them.
Brian’s gaze sharpened imdiately, but his mind was even sharper. Looking at their timing alone, he knew they hadn’t just arrived. They had probably been waiting and watching. Waiting for him to burn himself out against Michael.
"Clever bastards..." he muttered under his breath, flas curling faintly around his palm.
Seven against one. If it had been just one Hunter, he wouldn’t have flinched. Two? Annoying, but manageable. But seven in this crippled space... that was another matter entirely.
His teeth clenched as he lashed out, a sweeping arc of fire pushing the closest blade-wielder back. His lips pulled into a thin grimace.
Exactly like Michael had suspected, his edge here wasn’t raw stats. It was skill—refinent, control, mastery. His points were sunk into agility and intelligence, his power built around speed and spellcraft.
And it worked.
Damn it.
A sliver of regret cut through him. He never should have wasted his ti with Michael. That little duel had drained his attention and ti. Now, surrounded, he realized just how stupid it had been.
If he got eliminated here—by a pack of nobodies, after pushing Michael back—the sha would be unbearable.
But worse than sha...
His father’s face flickered across his mind. The man had only recently begun to look at him with pride. Only after his Awakening had the faint warmth of being treated like a true relative finally touched him. If Brian failed now... if he got cast aside because he was too reckless...
His flas burned hotter, teeth grinding together.
No!
*
Michael crouched low in the fog, his spear angled across his knees as his gaze swept over the clash ahead.
The air burned with heat, shadows of fla licking across the mist.
His fingers flexed against his weapon as a growing temptation whispered to him.
If he eliminated all seven Hunters here, he’d gain seven more attribute points across all his stats and his chances in this space would soar.
But it was risky. Too risky.
So Michael curbed the urge.There was still ti. No need to rush.
For now, he would wait. The battle between the eight would reveal the right solution.
Whether he’d advance or retreat depended on the situation.
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