Damien's eyes fluttered open, faint light bleeding into his vision like dawn breaking through a fog. His head throbbed—deep and rhythmic, like the echo of a war drum in a tunnel. Not from poison, not from some enemy attack. No, this pain had a far more irritating source.
A voice. Chirping. Relentless.
"Yes, Damien, you got it. Come on… almost there."
Damien groaned and dragged himself upright, bracing his weight with his right arm while pressing his left hand against his forehead. It felt like someone had been banging a cymbal directly inside his skull.
'Will you shut up, please?'
The voice scoffed in reply, laced with exaggerated sarcasm. "Oh, I'm so sorry for waking you up, Goblin. I didn't realize you planned to sleep through the trials."
Damien released a sharp exhale, more annoyance than breath, and pushed himself to his feet. The world around him spun momentarily before settling into clarity. He rotated his head slowly, scanning his surroundings.
To his left, Luka stirred groggily, blinking away whatever haze still clung to him. To the right, Summer lay motionless, chest rising and falling, still unconscious. The air smelled of brine and dust, like ancient stone left to rot by the sea.
Behind them stretched the endless, glittering expanse of the ocean, calm and deceptively peaceful. But it was what lay ahead that clawed at Damien's attention.
A city—no, a ruin.
It sprawled before them like a skeleton of a forgotten civilization. Buildings made of cracked concrete towered overhead, their windows stained the color of old tea, their surfaces tangled with ivy and vines that twisted up the sides like nature was trying to drag them down. Everything looked aged beyond belief—centuries old, maybe more. Brick roads, long worn and broken, slithered between the buildings, riddled with potholes and chunks of missing stone like some ancient giant had taken bites out of the ground.
It stretched on endlessly, block after block swallowed by time and overgrowth.
But the city wasn't the problem.
Damien blinked. Rubbed his eyes once, then again.
Three monsters stood a short distance away—class-one, judging by their size and shape. They weren't attacking, though. Instead, they kept hurling themselves forward, snarling and screeching as they slammed into something invisible... each time they flung backwards like rag dolls against a wall.
A translucent shimmer pulsed in the air with every impact.
'A barrier,' Damien thought, still not fully grounded in reality. His limbs felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish.
He turned toward Luka, who was now sitting up and groaning under his breath.
"Do you see what I'm seeing, or am I losing it?"
Even as the words left his mouth, Damien regretted whom he'd asked. Luka wasn't exactly the poster boy for mental stability. But Luka blinked at the scene, nodded slowly, and muttered, "No, I see them too."
Both of them stood there for a moment, silent, just watching.
The creatures were tall—maybe two and a half meters—with bodies that resembled grotesque jackrabbits. They stood on elongated hind legs, their fur filthy white, patchy, and matted in places. Their front limbs were long, almost humanoid, ending in claws that scraped uselessly against the barrier. Beady red eyes glowed with manic frustration as they hurled themselves again and again, teeth bared and saliva flying with each impact.
Damien squinted at them, unnerved.
'What the hell kind of rabbits are these?'
Their snarls echoed through the still air, bouncing off the buildings like laughter in a graveyard. The atmosphere was heavy, like the air itself remembered violence.
He stepped closer to the edge of the invisible dome, heart ticking faster now. His senses sharpened. The low hum of the barrier buzzed faintly in his ears, like static. The tang of sea salt lingered in the back of his throat, mixed with the musty rot of ancient buildings and the coppery stench of monster breath just feet away.
Damien's pulse thudded in his ears.
They weren't alone in whatever this place was—this forgotten, crumbling city, and the trial had already begun.
As if responding directly to his thoughts, a mechanical voice echoed across the city, loud and disembodied, projected from unseen speakers embedded throughout the ruin.
"Welcome, newly awakened, to the trials. Behind you is a table with weapons and your team's battle tag. The barrier will be removed in thirty seconds. Good luck!"
'Thirty seconds?!'
Damien's eyes widened as his heart kicked into overdrive. He and Luka spun around, gaze darting toward the ocean at their backs.
Sure enough, perched just above the sands was a long wooden table, weathered but solid, its surface glinting with metal. Various weapons had been arranged haphazardly across it—blades, polearms, and blunt tools of destruction gleaming under the dull light. Nestled among them was a single black disk etched with glowing blue letters.
Their battle tag.
But neither of them bolted for the table.
Because there was a much bigger problem lying at their feet.
Summer.
She hadn't moved.
Damien's breath caught in his throat. Her body was still, her face peaceful but pale, chest rising in a shallow, steady rhythm. Whatever was in that gas had hit her hard, much harder than it had hit him or Luka.
'Crap. Not good. Really not good.'
He rushed to her side, kneeling in the dust, careful not to shake her too hard at first. "Summer," he called, voice strained. "Summer, come on. Wake up."
Nothing.
He cupped her shoulder and shook her gently—still nothing.
Panic rising, Damien grabbed both shoulders and shook her harder now, voice escalating into a yell. "Summer! Wake up! Wake up!"
But her eyes remained closed, her limbs limp. It was like trying to pull someone from the bottom of a lake. His fingers curled into fists.
'Why the hell isn't she waking up?'
Was it because she was smaller? Was it the gas? Some kind of reaction? He didn't know, and he didn't have time to figure it out.
'Dammit.'
The word rang hollow in his mind, as if it echoed through the walls of his skull. He stared at her for one more heartbeat, then released his grip with a shaky breath. His hands hovered over her for a moment, then fell.
He turned away, throat tight.
The barrier would drop any second now.
Luka was already at the table, calm and focused as always. He sifted through the weapons like someone browsing a market stall, testing their weight, balance, and length with quick flicks of his wrist.
Finally, he settled on a medium-length sword—nothing fancy, but sharp and serviceable. He gave it a few light swings to test the grip, then casually tossed it through the air.
Damien caught it, almost out of reflex, the familiar weight grounding him.
Luka followed that up with the glowing battletag, flicking it toward Damien with the same nonchalance.
No words were exchanged.
None were needed.
The barrier was about to fall.
And the monsters were waiting.
...
The bastards were stronger than expected.
Fast, Coordinated, and Dangerous.
Not the wild, flailing monsters he was used to. These things moved like a pack—darting in and out, weaving between crumbled walls and rusted-out vehicles, backing each other up like trained soldiers.
Three of them.
Two meters tall, maybe more, and shaped like warped, nightmarish hares. Their elongated limbs were coiled tight with muscle, and their beady crimson eyes shimmered with a vicious intelligence. Snow-white fur rippled as they moved, sleek and almost beautiful—if not for the bloodlust.
And while they were fast and clever, there was one apparent weakness.
'They're not hitting hard enough.'
Damien ducked under a sweeping claw and slashed upward, only to catch air. The jackrabbit in front of him twisted mid-jump, effortlessly avoiding the strike, then bounced back a few meters, landing in a crouch.
The second, Damien reset his footing; he caught movement from the corner of his eye.
Another jackrabbit—the third—lunged from behind, its claw flashing toward his back. Damien spun, barely raising his blade in time to deflect the blow. Metal screeched against claw, sparks flashing between them.
Before he could counter, the first jackrabbit returned, springing off a nearby wall and launching both feet at Damien's chest.
He braced.
The impact slammed against his sword, knocking him backward through the air. He hit the cracked stone hard, boots skidding across the ground.
'Damn, they hit harder when they work together.'
He looked to his side—Luka was deep in his own skirmish, locked with the second jackrabbit. Nova dancing in his hand, firing down small blasts of radiant energy, but the beast weaved through each shot, its laughter-like growl cutting through the chaos.
Luka shouted something, but Damien couldn't hear it, not over the roar in his ears.
He turned his attention back—too late.
The two jackrabbits he'd been fighting were already closing in, blurs of white and red, leaping through the air with terrifying grace.
They struck together.
Twin kicks landed square in his gut, driving the air from his lungs and lifting him clean off the ground.
He crashed through the decayed wooden frame of a building behind him, landing hard against the dusty stone floor. A sharp crack echoed in his ears as his shoulder hit something jagged.
Everything spun as he hit the ground—dust clouding the air, wood splinters scattering, and pain blooming through his ribs like fire. Damien gasped, lungs straining, clawing for air that wouldn't come fast enough.
'Shit…'
But he didn't stay down.
Teeth clenched, he forced himself to his feet, legs trembling beneath him. Blood slid from the corner of his mouth, warm and metallic, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
Then he grinned.
It wasn't out of joy—it was the grin of someone done playing nice.
'I didn't want to waste too much energy on Grade Ones… but screw it.'
The lightning answered his call before the thought had fully formed.
It surged through him in a flash, instinctive and wild, racing from his chest to the tips of his fingers. The world snapped into clarity—bright, electric, alive. Every hair on his body stood on end as his skin tingled, not with pain but raw, untamed power.
It felt like slipping into something familiar.
It felt like waking up.
He exhaled slowly, sparks crackling on his breath.
Strength, Speed, and Focus.
Everything sharpened.
'Let's do this, bastards.'
His blade flared with lightning as he launched forward.