Chapter 15: The Trials Begin

  The energy in the arena was electric. Dozens of hopeful adventurers had already stepped forward to take their turn in the first trial: the magic affinity showcase. Some had impressed, while others had failed spectacularly. The field had already thinned considerably, with only the most competent remaining.

  Marcus stood among the remaining contestants, sweeping his gaze over the competition. He had already seen multiple hopefuls struggle under the watchful eyes of Talia, the magic judge—a tall, feline Beastfolk with piercing amber eyes and a long, striped tail that flicked in mild amusement or disappointment depending on the performance before her. At the far end of the arena stood Korr, the weapons judge, a towering minotaur with crossed arms and a stoic patience that made him all the more imposing.

  "Not bad," a voice came from beside Marcus.

  He turned to see a half-elf, half-dwarf standing nearby, watching the ongoing assessments with keen interest. The man had the sharp, angular features of an elf but the stockier build of a dwarf, his auburn hair tied back into a short ponytail. A thin sword rested at his hip, and an easy confidence hung about him.

  "I'm Thalron," the half-elf introduced himself with a firm nod. "Spell Sword. And you?"

  "Marcus," he replied. "Spell Fist."

  Thalron’s eyebrows shot up. "Spell Fist? Never heard of it."

  "Neither had I," Marcus admitted with a small smirk.

  Thalron chuckled. "That makes two of us then. Guess we'll see what you're made of soon enough."

  Before Marcus could reply, Talia’s voice rang out. "Next! Marcus Elder!"

  A murmur passed through the crowd as he stepped forward. He felt the weight of his friends’ eyes—Vira, Boruk, and Grek—watching from the sidelines.

  Talia’s feline gaze roamed over him, her tail flicking lazily. "Spell Fist, huh?"

  A pause.

  "That’s not a recognized class," she mused, tilting her head.

  Marcus shrugged. "Does it matter?"

  A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Not really. You’ll be tested the same way as a Spell Sword. The challenge is simple—destroy as many targets as possible, each with a different elemental affinity. The basic four are enough to pass, fire, water, wind, and earth. You can do the bare minimum, but if ya got more show us, it'll help your standing. The test ends when you repeat an element or fail to destroy a target. Understood?"

  "Understood."

  With a wave of her hand, a row of targets appeared in the air, hovering at various distances.

  "Begin."

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  Marcus exhaled and focused. Recalling his training with Vira, he focused his Mana and thrust his first punch forward, fire bursting around his fist as he struck the first target, shattering it. Without hesitation, he moved to the next, this time channeling a surge of ice along his knuckles. The target froze and cracked apart.

  He continued, calling upon water, wind, earth, plasma, and more, each strike obliterating a target.

  The murmurs in the crowd grew louder with each successive blow.

  "Nine… ten… eleven…" someone whispered.

  Marcus pushed on, maintaining his focus. Twelve…

  Then, at the thirteenth target, he hesitated. He had used nearly every element he understood.

  Thinking fast, he reached deeper, channeling a faint pulse of shadow, his fist trailing inky wisps as he struck. The target shattered.

  A beat of silence. Then, someone in the audience gasped.

  "Thirteen!"

  Marcus exhaled, stepping back. The test was over.

  Talia’s feline eyes lingered on him, intrigued. "Thirteen targets. That’s… uncommon."

  From the sidelines, Vira and Grek grinned, while Boruk nodded in satisfaction.

  But before Marcus could enjoy the moment, Thalron stepped forward.

  "Thalron, Spell Sword," he announced.

  Talia gestured for him to begin.

  The test started, and Thalron moved with fluid precision, his blade slicing through targets while radiating different elements. He switched seamlessly between fire, lightning, water, wind, and more, his control impeccable.

  Marcus watched intently as Thalron reached thirteen—then, with a final burst of radiant light, shattered a fourteenth target.

  The crowd erupted in cheers.

  Thalron turned to Marcus with a grin. "Looks like I’ve got the edge on you."

  Marcus chuckled. "We’ll see about that."

  ---

  The magic affinity trial had thinned the hopefuls even further. Now, those who remained stood before Korr, the minotaur judge, as he announced the second test.

  "You will spar against the judge of your choice. The goal is simple—survive for one full minute without being eliminated."

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Many contestants had already failed spectacularly. Some barely lasted ten seconds before being overwhelmed.

  Thalron stepped forward before Marcus, selecting Talia as his opponent. Their battle was fierce—Thalron barely managing to hold out against Talia’s relentless magical attacks. With only seconds left, he pulled off a last-second maneuver, dodging a devastating spell and surviving to the end.

  Panting, he staggered back, victorious. He shot Marcus a look.

  "Your turn, Spell Fist."

  Marcus stepped forward, locking eyes with Ralkar.

  "I choose Ralkar."

  The crowd froze.

  A hush fell over the arena.

  "He picked Ralkar?" someone whispered. "That’s suicide."

  Ralkar tilted his head, then grinned. "Interesting choice. Let’s see what you can do."

  The match began.

  Ralkar moved fast, striking with a fluidity that made it clear he was used to overwhelming opponents. His attacks lacked technical refinement, but he made up for it with sheer force and speed, adjusting his Psycha-enhanced strikes on the fly. The first few seconds that ticked, was a display of defense Mastery, blow after blow glancing off of Marcus guard. Initially Marcus had planned to not let a single blow touch him, but from the start he was overwhelmed and all he could do was deflect at the last possible moment, After another hit rolled of his shoulder yet again, something clicked for Marcus. Is this the probability control aspect of Psycha!? He's not just improving his strikes—no, it's not that simple. Another strike rapidly approached Marcus, and he positioned himself to roll with the incoming blow, but he paid careful attention to its trajectory. Although Marcus had readied himself for the blow, what should have been a glancing strike had to be blocked with both forearms. The blow landed square against his guard. Marcus was pushed back, but he wasn’t discouraged—he’d learned something about the nature of Psycha.

  Moments before the blow reached him, Marcus drew upon his own Psycha, supercharging his brain, causing everything to seemingly slow to a crawl for the briefest of moments. That was all he needed. As the blow made its way to him at a snail's pace, he saw it: the moment Ralkar’s Psycha manipulation deleted the space between Ralkar's fist and his sternum.

  Marcus analyzed the flaw in Ralkar’s technique instantly. He wasn’t a true striker—he simply relied on his mastery of Psycha to enhance what Marcus's old coach would've called an amateur punch.

  Marcus smirked. That was something he could exploit.

  He slipped into the Philly Shell stance, raising his lead shoulder while keeping his rear hand near his chin.

  The first punch came.

  Marcus rolled with the blow, letting it glance off his guard. Another strike. Then another. He weaved, ducked, and pivoted, making Ralkar look increasingly frustrated.

  Gasps rippled through the audience.

  "He’s dodging everything… without magic?"

  Ralkar adjusted his power, seemingly increasing The momentum of his strikes mid-flight, but Marcus remained calm, reading, anticipating, bobbing and weaving with precision. He didn’t need to overpower Ralkar—just outlast him.

  The final seconds ticked down.

  As the match ended, Marcus stood untouched, his breath steady.

  A stunned silence filled the arena. Then, whispers.

  "He… didn’t use any magic…"

  "He dodged everything…"

  Ralkar’s serpentine eyes narrowed, studying Marcus closely. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned.

  "Interesting."

  With the weapons trial over, only a fraction of hopefuls remained.

  Korr stepped forward, his voice booming across the arena. "Congratulations to those who passed. The final test—the tournament—will take place at dawn. The list of competitors will now be announced."

  The air seemed to grow thicker with tension as each of the remaining adventurers awaited the final list. The crowd held its breath.

  Marcus and Thalron exchanged a look. This was just the beginning.