A blinding light engulfed the survivors as the Verdant Shroud faded away. The oppressive humidity, the scent of blood and soil, the distant roars of beasts—all of it vanished in an instant.
Then, solid ground beneath their feet.
A sea of competitors stumbled as they found themselves standing on a vast, circular platform within a grand arena. The once-lush jungle had been replaced by towering stone walls, adorned with the emblem of Ardentia—a golden phoenix rising from flames. Above, the sky stretched wide and clear, the midday sun bathing everything in its warmth.
The contrast was almost disorienting.
The Tower of Dominion had judged them, and out of the 300-plus participants, only around 200 had emerged from the trial alive.
Some slumped to their knees, gasping for breath. Others stood tall, forcing themselves to appear unshaken despite the wounds and exhaustion etched into their faces. The air was filled with whispers, some relieved, some bitter.
"We made it out…"
"Damn it, I was so close to dying back there."
"Tch. If not for those damn beasts, I could have done more."
Suddenly, a voice boomed across the arena.
"Congratulations, survivors!"
All eyes turned toward the raised platform at the front of the arena, where a regal figure stood—the Grand Arbiter of the Decennial Competition. Draped in gold-trimmed robes, his piercing gaze swept across the exhausted participants.
"You have endured the trials of the Verdant Shroud and proven yourselves worthy of advancing. The next round of the Decennial Competition will begin in three days. Use this time well. Recover, train, and prepare—because what awaits you next will test you in ways you cannot imagine."
Murmurs rippled through the gathered participants. Three days. Some sighed in relief, others clenched their fists, already thinking about how to use the time.
Then, servants in official attire stepped forward, distributing scrolls to each survivor.
"These contain your official rankings and performance evaluations," the Grand Arbiter continued. "Your efforts have been recorded, and the eyes of the world are now upon you."
With that final remark, the ceremony ended. The survivors were led away in groups, each headed toward their temporary residences in the capital.
For the first time in days, they were no longer in battle. But the tension in their eyes said it all—this was only the beginning.
---
While the competitors retreated to rest and recover, the city of Ardentia was anything but quiet.
In the heart of the capital, in the grand squares, bustling taverns, and high-class lounges, discussions about the competition dominated every conversation.
In a lavish noble estate…
A group of wealthy aristocrats lounged in a richly furnished chamber, sipping expensive wine as they pored over the updated rankings.
"House Velcair’s prodigy is still in the running," one man noted, swirling his drink. "As expected. That bloodline is exceptional."
A woman scoffed. "But have you heard? A certain nobody surpassed several noble heirs in rankings. How utterly embarrassing for them."
Laughter filled the room, though some expressions remained grim.
In a crowded marketplace…
A merchant stood atop a wooden crate, waving a parchment in one hand while shouting to the gathered crowd.
"The preliminary round was brutal! Over a hundred fell in the last trial alone!"
Gasps rippled through the bystanders.
"And get this," the merchant continued, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Rumors say the final trial wasn't just the Tower of Dominion. Something else forced the competitors into it. Beasts. An unexpected event?"
A grizzled man scoffed. "Unexpected? Bah! These competitions are never fair. There are always hidden dangers they don't warn the participants about."
Others nodded in agreement, while some looked uneasy.
In a bustling gambling hall…
Bets were being placed on the competitors. Who would rise? Who would fall?
A bookkeeper smirked as he recorded the wagers. "Three days till the next round. Plenty of time to change your bets, folks! But mark my words—this year’s competition is unlike any before."
---
As the city speculated, the survivors had little time to dwell on the past. Each knew that the real battle was only just beginning.
In one of the luxurious guest quarters assigned to them, a young participant sat cross-legged, their wounds being tended to by a healer. Their mind, however, was elsewhere.
"Three days. That's barely enough time to recover. But if I waste even a moment, I’ll fall behind."
Another competitor trained in solitude, pushing their body beyond its limits. Sweat dripped down their brow as they forced themselves to endure the pain, muttering under their breath:
"Next time, I won’t just survive—I’ll dominate."
Others took a different approach, seeking allies, making deals, and strengthening their positions before the next phase began. The competition wasn’t just about raw power—it was about strategy.
---
At the end of the third day, the survivors were summoned once more. The arena that had once welcomed them back from the jungle was now a grand stage, filled with anticipation.
The Grand Arbiter stood once more before them, his gaze sharp, his tone commanding.
"The time has come."
The competitors held their breath.
"In the next round, you will not fight against the wilds. You will fight each other."
A pulse of energy swept through the crowd. Some grinned, eager for battle. Others narrowed their eyes, already calculating their chances.
"The format will be revealed shortly. But know this—only those truly worthy will advance beyond this stage. Let the next trial of the Decennial Competition begin."
As the gates swung open, the next chapter of their journey unfolded before them.
And this time, there was nowhere to run.