The morning mist hung over the courtyard like a silver veil, shrouding the arena in a soft haze. The air thrummed with energy, sharp and tense — the calm before a storm. After the fierce and grueling first round, only fourteen warriors remained. They stood in two rows opposite each other, weapons gleaming, their expressions cold and resolute.
Alaric stood at the edge of the courtyard, his arms crossed, watching with quiet pride. Every strike, every movement from the first round had already shown him how far they had come. Their once clumsy coordination had evolved into precise, deadly rhythm. Now, it was time to see who among them could transcend mere strength and reach the realm of mastery.
"Today's round," Alaric began, his voice calm but carrying through the courtyard, "will test not only your strength, but your awareness and instincts. Seven against seven. No formations, no leaders — only raw adaptability. Survive, and prove yourselves."
The moment he finished speaking, he waved his hand, and a dense barrier of earth rose around the courtyard, enclosing the fighters. The battle began.
A deafening roar echoed as the first group charged. Yue Rong, her white hair tied in a high tail, moved first — her body a blur of motion. She slid between two opponents, her twin blades flashing like lightning. Sparks flew as her sword clashed with Griffin's halberd, the shockwave splitting the dust around them.
Liang Chen appeared behind Griffin in a flash, his crimson spear whirling in a deadly arc. "You're open!" he barked. Griffin barely twisted in time, his halberd's edge scraping across Liang's armor, leaving a bright gash.
Across the field, Audrey danced through the chaos, her long staff spinning gracefully, her strikes swift and elegant. She faced Gao Wei, who wielded a massive claymore brimming with qi. Each of his swings carried crushing weight; each of hers, deceptive fluidity. They collided in a thunderous exchange, her staff parrying a blow that cracked the stone beneath her feet.
"Not bad," Gao Wei grinned, teeth flashing. "But you'll have to do better!"
Audrey only smirked. "Gladly." She twisted her staff mid-parry, redirecting his strength and countering with a sweep that smashed into his ribs. He stumbled, blood trickling from his mouth, but his grin never faded.
Meanwhile, Liang Hao and Trent were locked in their own brutal contest against two of the mid-level desolate lords. Trent's fists gleamed with golden light, his qi erupting like flame as he smashed through a defensive barrier. Liang Hao, calm and calculating, weaved through his opponents' attacks, his twin daggers flashing like shadows.
The arena was chaos — yet, within it, a rhythm began to form.
The seven strongest — Yue Rong, Liang Chen, Audrey, Griffin, Liang Hao, Gao Wei, and Trent — all unconsciously began to dominate the battlefield. Their styles, once distinct and clashing, now complemented one another. Yue Rong's agility created openings; Liang Chen's spear capitalized on them. Audrey's wide-range staff techniques provided cover, while Griffin's halberd anchored their formation. Gao Wei's brute force shattered defenses, and Trent's rapid strikes filled every gap left behind.
It was teamwork born not of planning, but of shared struggle.
"Beautiful," Alaric murmured from the sidelines, eyes narrowing. "They've begun to move as one."
The weaker side began to falter. One of their desolate lords fell under Griffin's sweeping strike, blood spraying across the courtyard stones. Another was sent flying by Yue Rong's blade, her aura flaring with ethereal qi that shimmered like moonlight.
In moments, the tide was clear. The stronger seven pressed forward, their movements fluid and relentless. Each blow carried intent; each step was precise.
But Alaric wasn't just watching for victory — he was watching for growth. He saw Audrey's restraint, Yue Rong's evolving aura control, Liang Chen's mastery of pressure points, and Griffin's emerging command presence. Each one of them was reaching new heights.
The final moments came in a storm of motion. Yue Rong lunged high, her twin blades crossing in a deadly "X," cleaving through her opponent's final defense. Griffin struck low, halberd piercing the last enemy's chest in a burst of qi. The courtyard went still.
Dust drifted down through the sunlight, and silence fell.
The seven victors stood breathing heavily, their weapons stained and cracked. They turned to Alaric as one.
He smiled faintly, nodding. "You've done well. This was not about victory — it was about awakening. But remember…" His gaze swept across them like a blade. "There is always someone stronger. Do not grow complacent."
The seven bowed deeply, sweat dripping down their faces, their hearts pounding with exhilaration.
They could feel it — the power burning within them, honed sharper by battle.
And as Alaric dismissed them for recovery, he looked to the fading sun above the courtyard.
"One more round," he murmured. "Then we'll see who stands at the very top."