Rian and Lina crossed a vine bridge, following a tip from an old outcast, their path leading to the Verdaris platform. The Sap Blades arena shimmered under vibrant crystals, the crowd's roars echoing like thunder. Above, a massive board blazed with the National Ranking in fiery letters.
Lina froze, her gaze locked on a name: Aric, Class B, Rank 5,000. Something about it stirred unease in her. Nearby, men and women swept the ground, ignored by all, their tattered cloaks a stark contrast to the Chosen's gleaming attire.
"Hidden eyes are watching," Craevon whispered in Rian's mind, his voice deep and gravelly. A dark silhouette flickered in Rian's thoughts, carrying echoes of the fire that consumed his family. Lina pointed at the board, her body tense.
"That Aric guy gives me the creeps," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Aric?" Rian frowned, a faint memory tugging at him. "I've heard that name… maybe."
"You're hesitating like a worm," Craevon mocked. "Names don't kill, kid. Trust less in your blade and more in yourself."
"I feel like he's tied to something bad," Lina murmured.
"You're just nervous," Rian said, adjusting his glove, brushing off Craevon's taunt.
Lina forced a smirk. "Let's shine in the arena. Or we turn to ash."
Rian nodded. The elevator descended, plunging them toward the arena's dangers.
At the arena's entrance, Voren, a Chosen draped in a blue cloak, gripped a divine axe and a glowing crystal tablet etched with runes. His sneer cut through Rian and Lina as chained losers swept the floor, their eyes hollow and lifeless.
"Sap Blades accepts even scum," Voren taunted, raising the tablet. "Win, you join the guild. Lose, you end up like that." He gestured toward the chained, their desperate eyes flickering upward.
Rian seized the tablet, its crystal cold against his palm. One clause halted him: Losers will serve as slaves, fighting as prey or cleaning cages until death. Memories of the fire—flames, screams—surged in his mind, his heart pounding.
"What kind of trap is this?" he growled, clutching the tablet.
"Guild standard," Voren shot back, his smile cruel. "Sign or scram."
"Lina, you're not signing," Rian said, his voice trembling with rage and fear. He imagined chains binding her wrists.
"Signing is bowing," Craevon whispered sharply. "Are you scared for her or for your own weakness?"
Lina crossed her arms, a spark of doubt in her eyes. "It's our shot to find the Gray Divinity," she said firmly. "You want answers, don't you?"
"Answers?" Craevon laughed. "You can barely swing a dull blade, and you're hunting Divinities?"
"Not like this!" Rian snapped. "They'll throw you to the beasts, Lina."
"And you know everything?" Lina challenged, her eyes blazing. "Stop treating me like I'm weak."
"You don't get it!" Rian nearly shouted, his chest tight. "Control yourself," Craevon hissed. "She doesn't know about me." Rian took a deep breath. "Lina, stay out of this."
"No," Lina said, snatching the tablet. Her fingers trembled as she signed, the runes glowing red. "Your turn, tough guy."
Rian stared at the crystal, the weight of the choice crushing him. Signing risked everything; refusing meant abandoning the truth. "You'll break," Craevon mocked. Heart racing, Rian signed. "If anything happens to you, Lina…" he muttered.
"Then train so we don't look like fools," Lina shot back with a half-smile.
In an alley lit by dim crystals, Rian trained with a clunky, rune-worn sword. He swung, aiming for a fluid strike, but the blade threw him off balance, scraping the ground.
"You call that a swing?" Craevon sneered. "Feel the blade, don't fight it."
Lina, weaving vines into a glowing sap target, laughed. "That sword's trash! Loosen your wrist!"
"It's all we've got," Rian grunted, adjusting his stance. He lunged, spinning with grace, but missed the target. "Without my edge, I'm just a Reject."
"Without me, you're nothing," Craevon corrected. "Your edge is in you."
Rian attacked again, striking the vine with a spark. "Better!" Lina clapped, rigging a fast-swaying target. "Now hit this!"
Rian leaped, slicing with precision, the sword humming. "That's it!" Lina cheered. "But the arena won't just be vines."
"Teach me," Rian said, panting. "How do you set these up so fast?"
"Improvise," Lina replied, spinning a sap vial. "Think about the environment. Everything's a weapon."
Heavy footsteps echoed in the alley. Drenar, a Class D Chosen, Rank 90,000, stepped forward, his divine sword pulsing with runes. Scars marked his face, his eyes burning with disdain and ambition. Behind him, a lanky archer with a sap bow and a woman in light armor, twirling poisoned daggers, laughed like predators.
"Rejects playing warrior?" Drenar mocked, pointing his sword. "I saw you training. Think you can dirty the arena?" He spat on the ground. "I've sent dozens to the cages."
"Cages?" Lina shot back, clutching a sap vial. "Come here, and I'll show you your place."
"Stay back," Rian muttered, raising his sword. Craevon, guide me, he thought, the "C" mark pulsing.
"Courage, not guidance," Craevon laughed. "Feel the blade."
Drenar charged, his sword slicing the air. "You're nothing without a patron!" he snarled, his voice bitter from living in stronger shadows. Rian dodged, spinning with an upward slash. The blades clashed, sparks flying, but the force pushed him back.
Speed: 21/50 to Level 2
"Trash sword!" Drenar mocked. "And you're worse," Craevon echoed. "Dodge with your head."
An arrow from the archer grazed Rian's shoulder, stinging. The woman laughed, daggers spinning. "Look at the Reject dancing!" She lunged at Lina.
Rian rolled, using a crate for cover, and countered, his blade vibrating against Drenar's armor. "You crush others to feel big," Rian growled.
"In the arena, you crush or get crushed," Drenar snapped, attacking with fury. "My patron taught me that."
Strength: 40/50 to Level 2
Speed: 23
"Lina, now!" Rian shouted, dodging another arrow.
Speed: 25
Lina hurled a sap vial, which exploded into sticky flames, blocking the enemies. "Improvise, idiots!" she yelled, trapping the woman with a vine. "Stay down!"
"Nice!" Rian leaped, slashing Drenar's arm, who staggered, bleeding.
Strength: 45
"Slow!" Lina tossed another vial, creating glowing smoke. "Finish it, Rian!"
Rian charged, slicing in a double spin. "Now!" Craevon roared. The strike hit the archer's shoulder, dropping him. Drenar froze, his face twisted.
"You'll pay," he stammered, retreating. A purple-cloaked figure watched, scribbling something.
Strength Updated! Level 2
Energy: 8/15
Rian and Lina fled the alley, the fight's echo lingering in their bones. Rian's damaged sword felt more like an extension of him now.
The contract—slavery or victory—loomed like a shadow. Lina grinned, wiping sweat. "We kicked ass!"
"Barely," Rian muttered. "You shouldn't be in the arena, Lina."
"Stop it," Lina snapped. "We're a team."
"You don't know everything," Rian said, the "C" mark pulsing. "There are secrets… I can't share."
"Secrets?" Craevon mocked. "Tell her, or you'll lose her."
"Then spill it!" Lina demanded. "Or trust me."
"A divine power's close," Craevon whispered. "Not a friend." Rian glanced at the board: Vortex, Class A, Rank 700. A chill ran through him.
"Tomorrow, we win," Rian said coldly. "Or I die trying."
"We win together," Lina corrected, smirking. "And we hunt the truth."
"Kids playing with fire," Craevon muttered. "Let the arena come."