Tom stared at the three doors in front of him. He had been standing here often and was losing track of the days, but this was something like his fiftieth fight, and the disk toss had consistently told him that he was going to fail. And, except for that one time, it had been right.

  This was going to be his fifth fight since the darkhole trial, and, even with that boost in strength, he had still lost all four of those death matches. The full GOD shield meant that he was not damaged in those defeats, not even psychologically, but the failures rankled. In the trial, he had managed to win against trillion to one odds, he had gotten the rewards of the explosive growth trial… and it still wasn’t enough. His failure spoke of how weak he had been when he had first gained entry to the Divine Champions’ Trial, too. Even with the trial upgrades, along with Lightning Javelin and Remote Power Strike, he was still out of his depth.

  He guessed his struggles just drove home how exceptional Corrine truly was to have achieved a low-forties win rate.

  Tom shook his head. Thoughts on the past were often helpful, but this was not one of those times. Right now, it was another chance to make his mark and prove he was good enough to be here.

  He spun the disk in his hand while remembering the first four fights. The encounters had all been the kinds where his opponents had basically been unbeatable. He hadn’t lost because of a skill issue, apart from the fact he lacked powerful ones.

  One of the enemies had done a Corrine and washed the entire battlefield with intense flames. Even with the help of a Burst, Tom had lacked the speed to escape and perished within seconds of the bout starting. The others had been closer, even if still impossible. His traits had equalised the attribute gap, and in two of the duels had even given him a slight advantage, but that hadn’t been enough. All three opponents had been immune to his stun attempts, and, once that ploy had failed, so had his chances to win.

  He looked at the shield-free door longingly. Hopefully, today was the day, but he wasn’t going to take shortcuts when he knew the GODs were after him. Carefully, he created the same precise mental image as always. Satisfied, he spent his fate and started flipping the coin; once, twice, eight times.

  Every flip came up heads, but he didn’t get excited. This had happened before, first when the GODs tricked him, and then again in his second fight after the darkhole trial. That’s how he knew they were still gunning for him.

  He kissed the coin and internally hoped for the best.

  Would this be it? Or was it just another example of the GODs putting their fingers on the result to give him false hope?

  With a flick of his wrist, the wooden disk flew up, spinning rapidly. It almost touched the roof before plunging downward. It bounced, rolled, and then stilled.

  Tom’s heart beat faster, and a broad grin broke out. He had been expecting failure, but, instead, he was staring at his ninth head in a row. That was a confirmation. The battle, a proper fight with stakes, was going to happen. He snatched up the disk, since it also contained his Danger Sense ritual, and then walked confidently towards the door that led to a fight without a GOD’s shield.

  With every step, he expected the crushing foreboding feeling of imminent, certain death to strike, but the disk remained passive.

  “Yes,” he whispered. Finally, it was happening. With a thought, the spear that Baptiste had gifted him after nearly two weeks of Tom dropping clues appeared in his hands.

  When it was handed over, it had been a tier-one compound spear, which, in the Divine Trial, where outside weapons couldn’t be used, meant it was worth its weight in gold. That additional sharpness and damage of the higher-tiered weapon could mean the difference between life and death, and that was why it had been such an amazing gift. Baptiste had constructed it by abusing his ability to layer different types of wood together to create a perfectly balance weapon, one that was more than its component parts. It had not been enhanced in any way, shape, or form, and had been closer to a marvel of engineering than to a magical artefact.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  It was still a great spear, and one that had become even better once he had placed it in his inventory. Tom smiled at the memory of its description:

  Item: Compound Spear of Protection – Tier 3

  This spear is lighter than it looks, and it is enhanced to improve parrying ability.

  It can also absorb magic attacks containing up to 16 mana every 60 seconds.

  That last line was the true jewel of the upgraded weapon. That sixteen mana, like always, was calibrated to refer to a spell at the same tier as the spear. In this case, it meant a third-tier spell. If a lower-tier spell like Fire Bolt was used, then the weapon was going to be able to absorb a spell, or spells, containing up to fifty mana.

  He was hopeful that, when it came to most, or at least to some of his opponents, the spear could exhaust their mana reserves. Everyone he fought was a child, and, if they came from a non-magical gifted species and were using lower-tier spells, the fifty-absorbance capability could very well be sufficient to tap them out.

  Part of him wondered if the only reason his test had determined that he could beat his coming opponent was because of this weapon.

  Most of him hoped it was not the case. The Known Heretic title was a component of his strength, but it felt unearned. Instead, he hoped that his hard work would be enough to earn his victories, rather than him having to rely on the title that he was sure he only had because of DEUS’s manipulation.

  He reached the doorway, paused, then took a deep breath and stepped through. This was it. There were no safety blankets in the coming fight, no GOD’s shield to protect him.

  He could die.

  A message, as always, greeted him as he was suspended briefly in the void.

  You are fighting a representative of FAMES. It has 0 confirmed incapacitations and 2 kills.

  His opponent was a from terror race. Emotions swirled as he suffered through a mix of the thrill of excitement combined with his gut falling away at the stakes.

  Of course, he thought to himself bitterly. Of course, the first time he went in without a GOD’s shield it would be against a terror race, and therefore a fight to the death.

  Nothing in this place, he suspected, was random. There had been a forty percent chance of him being in this situation, but it was about something more than that. Through the fifty fights, he had been tracking who he faced, and an abnormal number of them were aligned to the terror GODs. Almost sixty percent of his fights fell into that bracket instead of forty. Either them or DEUS had their fingers on the scale, but, at least, the stakes of this fight were clear.

  Two of them were going to enter and only one of them would leave, and Tom was happy about that. The fewer sapient monsters there were in Existentia, the better.

  His nerves were buzzing as he materialised in the arena… and then he saw the terrain.

  “Damn it,” he cursed when he found himself in a dense forest. It was the opposite of what he had been hoping for. With his current build, he benefitted from clean lines of sight without any protective cover. The dense tree trunks around him were the opposite of that. At the same time, the space between him and his opponent was clear beyond that, and, immediately to their sides, the thick vegetation started. It was a young forest, one with each tree trunk only slightly wider than Tom was, but it was lush. The tree trunks in some spots even touched each other.

  The moment you left the cleared area, there was lots of cover to hide behind. It was not a great setup for him.

  Finally, Tom studied his opponent. From the past fights, he knew he would not get a good read on what he faced, but sometimes, body shape and weapons told a story about a creature’s fighting style. With careful eyes, he examined it. “Fuck me.” He hissed.

  He was facing an ape that wore clothes made of living leaves, and doing it in the middle of a jungle.

  His eyes flickered to the vines, the trees and the densely packed plants, and then back to what the creature was wearing. The leaves on its chest were moving unnaturally, which made a shiver go down his spine. He hoped it was an artefact, but feared the large monkey had druid-like powers. If so, it would be like fighting Baptiste in a forest.

  For the first time, an edge of worry wormed itself into him.