Leo pulled himself to his feet, slow and careful.
The mist clung to his shirt. The air was thick, charged, and waiting.
Something dangerous.
Ranna's boots whispered against the floorless ground. Her gaze pinned him in place like a blade through cloth.
"That wasn't the same attack as what he used back in the forest."
Cris twitched slightly. His arms slowly dropped to his sides. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, cutting a path through the pale light on his skin. He did not speak, but his breath hitched.
"The magical essence inside the Paradise created to give adventurers a taste of what came before." Ranna continued.
The mist curled around her like a tamed thing. Her coat stirred with the motion, though there was no wind.
"So we can learn," she said, "what it's like to feel the true essence of Aetheria: its raw source. The mana untouched for generations."
"The magic that once belonged to the Primordials."
Her eyes burned brighter, reflecting the shimmer around them.
"The Paradise is more than a battlefield." she said, lifting her hand. A ripple pulsed outward. Leo could almost hear it humming in his ribs.
"Inside here, we're not just who we were outside."
Not just another 'adventurers.'
Her eyes flicked to Cris. The glance was brief but weighted.
"We're all ranked S here," she said simply.
"Even him."
Cris visibly straightened. A ghost of a smirk touched his lips, but his fingers curled inward as if he were grounding himself. Still, he said nothing.
Ranna turned her attention back to Leo.
"And you," her voice dropped a little, softer, yet somehow more dangerous. "You claimed you defeated the Orc Lord. Cleared the Orc Dominion."
The air around her shimmered.
Crack!
A flare of red tore through the mist, surrounding her body in waves of heatless flame. Her aura surged like blood turned to wildfire. Her irises glowed, crystalline and unblinking. They twinkled like a child's eyes before opening a gift she already knew was dangerous.
Leo's breath caught.
Something about her aura reminded him of the fight. Not just the Orc Lord, but the moment he had killed it.
The clarity. Power. The weight of the system he had acquired.
Cris inhaled sharply beside her. Then he lifted both arms.
The air screamed.
Tornado-lances erupted into form. They were not conjured with effort this time; they were summoned. Instinctive. They spiraled into being with a grace that made Leo's skin crawl. The lances were tighter and meaner. Crueler. The mist funneled into each one like a storm collapsing inward.
They roared.
But the thing that truly chilled Leo was Amanda.
He felt her before he saw her.
The temperature shifted. It was a subtle change. Like a breath held too long. Her footsteps did not echo, but each one thudded somewhere inside him.
He turned.
Amanda stood alone, her crimson eyes hazy, unfocused, and distant. But when she looked at him, the world narrowed to just the two of them.
"I'm sorry, Leo."
Her voice was soft. Regretful. Deadly.
"I wasn't brought here as your ally."
Her hands rose just a little. That was all it took.
The mist around them did not spiral. It shivered. Fractured like glass under pressure.
Blades formed, one in each hand.
Forged from the mist itself, they shimmered into being with a soft hiss. The air folded around them, dense with invisible force. The glow of their edges flickered like starlight seen through storm clouds.
Her stance matched the swords: wide-legged, balanced, and calm. Amanda's body mirrored a warrior carved from purpose, not a trace of hesitation. Her back was to him now, but Leo did not need to see her face. He felt it.
The sorrow. Conviction. The inevitable clash.
Amanda stepped forward, slow. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes never left his.
Behind her, Ranna smiled faintly, as if this impossible convergence of memory, and myth.
Leo swallowed, his voice finally finding a crack to slide through.
"So this is the test?"
Ranna tilted her head.
"No," she said. "This is confirmation."
The clock above them ticked on, golden glyphs marking the seconds.
**00:47:12**
**00:46:59**
**00:46:45**
But before Leo could even form a thought, Ranna vanished.
One heartbeat she was there; the next, she reappeared right in front of him.
Her fingers closed around his arm like a vice of tempered steel. No chance to dodge.
Bam!
A sudden pulse of force rippled through Leo's body before he could react.
"Don't be afraid," she said, her voice surprisingly calm, almost amused. Her face was mere inches from his, eyes locked on his. "We're all practically immortal in here, too."
Then,
Boom!
He was airborne. She flung him skyward like a ragdoll tossed by a storm.
The world tilted. Up, down, and the mist all blurred into streaks of white motion. Wind screamed past his ears as his limbs flailed.
Far below, Ranna's voice chased after him, cutting through the air.
"But that doesn't mean we can't still feel pain!"
Leo barely had time to gasp before the spin slowed. His eyes caught sight of her again. Her arms were folded, one brow raised like a mentor watching a student take their first real fall.
Thwip!
Thwip!
Thwip!
Something sliced through the mist. It was fast and sharp. Spiraling.
Leo's instincts screamed.
He twisted mid-air, eyes locking onto Cris. His feet were braced, arms outstretched. The bastard was already summoning another volley. Dozens of coiled vortexes spun around his wrists like loaded slings, the air warping from sheer pressure.
"Oi!!" Cris yelled, a feral grin splitting his face. "Seriously, man, stop turning your back on your enemies!"
He managed to catch the first attack, barely. His fingers curled around the unstable magic like grabbing a spinning buzzsaw. His aura flared with raw reflex more than skill, and the construct shuddered before bursting into whirling shrapnel of air and sound.
But the second, third, and fourth attacks were too fast. He was too late.
Kram-boom!
The air split open in a violent explosion. A sound like a collapsing castle roared through his skull. His vision strobed white as the mist was torn apart around him. It spiraled outward in chaotic loops.
Down below, Cris's expression changed. It was not regret, but a hint of respect.
Leo tumbled through the aftermath like a falling star, his clothes fluttering in torn spirals. His skin burned where the lance had struck. His nerves hummed with pain that was not quite real, but it felt like it was.
Even through the ache and the haze, one truth settled in his gut.
They were not holding back. None of them.
Inside this Paradise, this was not training.
This was trial by fire.