Finally, they entered the arena.
The crowd buzzed with excitement as the massive steel doors sealed shut behind the trainees. A voice echoed across the coliseum:
“This test will be conducted as a team match! Each participant will wear combat suits calibrated to measure damage. Once you reach your limit, you're out. Fight fair, fight hard.”
Uniformed staff handed out sleek, matte-black suits. Each one had glowing lines tracing the vitals—real-time feedback for hits and damage.
Kael slid into his suit, adjusting the gauntlets. At the weapon rack in the center, his eyes locked onto a hybrid loadout: a plasma rifle with an energy sword slung underneath.
He grabbed it.
“You know how to use a sword?” Calvin asked, raising a brow.
“A bit,” Kael replied, tightening the strap. “Gramps lived next to the orphanage. Used to force me to train every single day. Skipped once—had to dodge a broomstick.”
“That explains the footwork,” Calvin chuckled, selecting his own gear—dual energy pistols with magnetic holsters.
Rio and Ron grabbed sniper rifles, nodding to each other. Trollin's team stood across the field, grinning like predators.
“Let’s break some egos,” Calvin muttered.
The floor of the arena rumbled.
Panels beneath them shifted—concrete giving way to foliage. Trees rose, terrain warped. Within seconds, the battlefield had transformed into a dense forest, broken by steep hills and hidden gullies.
A flare fired into the sky.
The match had begun.
Kael moved carefully through the underbrush, every step deliberate. No sign of his teammates.
"Higher ground," he muttered.
He sprinted toward a nearby ridge but skidded to a halt—two of Trollin’s teammates exploded from the foliage, one wielding a massive energy axe, the other swinging a heavy plasma hammer.
Kael's blade ignited with a sharp vrrm. The axe came down hard.
CLANG!
The impact jolted through Kael’s arm, nearly knocking the sword from his grip. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the hammer that cratered the earth beside him.
Sparks flew as Kael blocked a follow-up swing, metal screeching against energy. The axe grazed his shoulder pad—warning lights flared red across his HUD.
He rolled backward, knees hitting dirt. His arms felt numb, like they were filled with lead.
Then—a sudden crack echoed through the trees.
A sniper round slammed into one attacker’s chest plate, staggering him. Kael took the opening, slashing upward and catching the edge of the armor—not a kill, but it left a burn.
Another shot came. The second opponent blocked it with a shimmering shield.
Kael barely raised his sword in time to parry an overhead blow.
THOOM!
The ground shuddered. The hammer carved a hole beside him. One more hit and he was done.
Then—
“AAAAAAHHHH!”
Calvin burst through the nearby bushes, limbs flailing, dual pistols firing wildly behind him.
“WHY is it always me?!” he yelled.
Trollin and his enforcer were on his tail.
Kael didn’t hesitate.
He surged forward, intercepting the enemy closest to Calvin. His sword arced through the air—a perfect counterstrike.
CLANG!
Blocked.
A shield blast slammed into Kael’s side, knocking him off balance. A fourth enemy—Trollin’s support unit—was perched on a hill, already charging another shot.
Kael gritted his teeth.
“We need to break their rhythm…”
He raised his rifle to fire at the support unit—
CRACK!
Pain exploded through his shoulder. His HUD flashed red.
Sniper hit.
But the angle didn’t make sense. It came from above—from the wrong side.
Kael turned toward the ridge.
Ron.
Still holding the smoking sniper rifle. Expression unreadable.
"Ron..."
They had barely even met—just exchanged names at the exam center. No reason to trust. No reason to expect betrayal. But still, something about it stung.
"You betrayed us?"
Ron didn’t flinch.
“I survived.”
Kael’s vision blurred, not from pain—but fury.
Somewhere behind him, Calvin yelled again:
“WHY is this my life?!”
And the battle raged on.
In a twist of absolute chaos, one of Calvin's wildly misfired shots ricocheted off a fallen armor plate—luck and dumb trajectory turning into precision. The beam struck the previously staggered enemy squarely in the helmet, disabling his suit and knocking him out of the match.
"Wait—did I just... actually hit something?"
Before anyone could react, another sharp crack echoed through the trees.
Ron dropped.
A red flash pulsed across his suit as he slumped down. Eliminated.
"Shot confirmed," came a voice over comms.
Rio.
Nowhere in sight, but watching. Waiting. Firing from cover like a ghost.
The enemy formation cracked.
Calvin took the opportunity to drag Kael—half-conscious and bleeding virtual damage—into the underbrush.
He may have been chaotic in combat, but Calvin had platinum-tier skills in hiding and running. By the time Trollin regrouped, the two were gone.
Behind a collapsed tree root, Calvin patched up Kael with the auto-medkit.
"Still breathing?"
"Barely," Kael grunted. "Where's Rio?"
"Still ghosting. He'll find us."
Minutes later, Rio appeared from the mist, calm and unreadable.
"You two look like a charity case."
"He got shot! I ran logistics!" Calvin defended.
They huddled in the brush, catching breath, hearts pounding.
"We need a plan," Kael said, gripping his half-fused sword.
"Agreed," Rio replied. "They have numbers. We have surprise. Let’s use it."
And just like that, the second stage of the fight was about to begin.