Kalon Bloodborn POV

The taste of salt lingered between my teeth, drying out my mouth. My body felt drained, moisture almost depleted by the relentless heat. A quick look at my peers confirmed we were all feeling the effects—except Jared, whose usual goofy grin remained untouched by the weather.

Our surroundings had transformed drastically. The lush, vibrant trees had given way to sparse shrubs, and the once-perfect temperature was now a relentless blaze. We had to be nearing the borders of Tarvile; this unyielding heat was a clear sign of it. I hadn't expected such extremes, nor that it would strip away the novelty of the place.

Just as I settled into my discomfort, a sight appeared, dazzling and almost surreal. Across the horizon, I saw a herd of colossal beasts, their thick, armor-like hides covering their bodies. Their front limbs, like massive pillars, supported their massive torsos, while their hind limbs, though stumpier, were equally formidable. Towering horns framed the sides of their heads.

The behemoths roamed across the grassland that stretched as far as the eye could see, each step sending tremors through the earth. Our own beasts halted instinctively, sensing the presence of these giants. I gently ran my hand over Aszra’s armored scales. “It’s okay, Aszra. You’ll be just as strong one day.” My soothing words calmed him.

“Don’t let your beast act up,” I called to the others, aware that the sight of the behemoths was stirring something primal within our own creatures. The grandeur of these ancient beasts had a way of humbling even the most spirited companions.

“Ha! They know better than that. They may have their pride, but instincts kick in,” Jared laughed, seemingly unfazed by the trembling ground.

We kept our pace slow and steady, careful not to provoke the behemoths. As we passed them, they remained uninterested in us, focused on the scattered trees they were munching through. Despite my efforts to shield myself, I couldn’t help but feel the raw emotions spilling through my beast. The ancient creatures were powerful, yet peaceful—a perfect balance that was humbling to witness.

“This overgrown lizard keeps bumping me!” Clovis grumbled, shifting to keep his balance over the drake’s hump.

“He can’t help it; the ground’s shaky. Feel free to jump off if you want,” Jared shot back with a grin.

“You two—save it. Damon, how long until we reach Tarvile?” I asked, eager to shift focus.

Our slow journey eventually brought us over a few more hills, and soon we came upon sprawling crop fields. Dotting the field were golems, their bodies carved from the very earth, using tools with an odd precision that seemed almost sentient. However, that thought was quickly dismissed as a group of giants came to greet us.

Beyond the fields stood an enormous gate flanked by two towering pillars, leading to a grand central gateway. We entered, passing through hallways adorned with magnificent carvings and columns. The ceiling above depicted festival scenes, adding a sense of life and history to the solemn structure. Pools of water lay centered in some of the courts, adding a serene touch to the grand design.

The majestic halls, though awe-inspiring, were notably empty of Celestials. Only the faint sound of cheers grew louder as we navigated through the maze of corridors. Finally, we emerged into an enormous courtyard, buzzing with life. Stalls stretched endlessly, each decorated and booming with giants.

We maneuvered through the crowd, observing the many scenes of revelry. Several groups had gathered around, captivated by fierce displays of strength, particularly one gripping spectacle of two giants locked in combat. Each move was met with thunderous cheers that shook the ground.

The giant on one side was especially formidable, his sides shaved, with a long mane cascading into a ponytail. His stance was low, his muscles rippling as he seized his opponent, hoisting him overhead in one fluid, almost effortless motion before slamming him to the ground with resounding force. The impact left a fresh crater in the earth, but in a show of camaraderie, he immediately helped his opponent to his feet, laughing as if the brawl was mere sport.

The duels continued, and I couldn’t help but feel an unexpected thrill building within me. The enthusiasm of the crowd was contagious, and I felt the urge to participate. However, a giant near us, who introduced himself as Sloan, explained the strict rules of these wrestling matches. No magic was permitted, aside from basic body enhancement, which was enough to put giants at an advantage far beyond ours.

The thought of engaging these giants without magic brought an involuntary shiver. Jared seemed to share my trepidation; even the thought of participating visibly unnerved him.

“There’s one game you might stand a chance at,” Sloan said, a playful gleam in his eye. “Sentry. It requires a profound ability to sense mana.”

My interest piqued, and without hesitation, we followed Sloan’s lead through the crowd, with my comrades close behind.

The Sentry arena was immense, spread across multiple platforms, each with its own rotating series of boxes. The game's objective was simple but challenging: detect and destroy the boxes containing mana using any chosen form of magic. A mistake would result in a points deduction, adding pressure to accuracy. The artifact at the center kept track of scores, glowing as it registered each player’s moves.

I couldn’t resist the allure of such a test. My friends felt the same; we quickly registered for a trial, anticipation buzzing through us as we took our places. Workers adjusted the artifact that controlled the rotation of boxes.

As I prepared, I formulated a strategy. With the shout to begin, the boxes began moving in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. I activated godeyes, feeling a surge of mana, warm and familiar, pulse through my eyes. My vision sharpened, revealing a thick ambient fog of mana over the arena. This shroud was clearly intended to obscure the mana-hidden boxes from casual detection—a clever trick that would likely have stumped a novice.

Yet, I wouldn’t take that route. By focusing godeyes, I detected subtle repelling forces around certain boxes, a telltale cloak of spirit energy. Summoning blood mana, I concentrated it into a spear-like shape, sending it hurtling into one of the marked boxes. My aim struck true, and the box shattered, revealing a faint orb of mana within as the artifact updated my score with a glowing increment of one. The thrill of success urged me on—this was just the beginning.

With each successive win, the ring’s speed accelerated, but I kept up, casting spells with precision. It wasn’t until I heard the crowd chanting my name that I realized I’d topped the scoreboard. The game ended as the time ran out, and I rejoined Jared, Clovis, and Damon, who admitted their scores had been... underwhelming. They’d been penalized for striking the wrong boxes, which, though I had anticipated a challenge, fell short of expectations. It was possible godeyes had set my standard too high.

The crowd’s attention shifted to me as curious onlookers offered to show us more of the festival grounds, while others invited us to their homes. I saw a perfect opportunity in these gatherings to offer healing magic at the inns, strengthening the goodwill we sought.

As dusk settled, we returned to our en-suite quarters to unwind and relive the day’s moments. The days followed a rhythmic pattern: visits to the inns, a thrilling match at Sentry, and endless festivities. Each time I took the stage, the audience grew, eager to see if I would break the arena’s long-standing record. Despite setting new personal bests repeatedly, I noticed I hadn’t yet surpassed the record—a detail that lingered in the back of my mind, nudging me with a sense of challenge.

After months of pushing godeyes to its limits, I'd finally matched the Sentry record. The crowd in the arena grew week by week, and today was no exception. I expected the usual chants of my name, but instead, the voices roared a new one.

A giant stepped onto the platform, towering close to eight feet tall. His muscled frame was adorned with intricate tattoos across his forearms and chest, each line as bold as his presence. Golden arm bracelets gleamed on both forearms. His mahogany hair was wild, framing a face set with a stoic gaze. He was imposing, not just for his height but for the unyielding force emanating from him.

He stopped just in front of me, lowering his head slightly until I met his eyes. He extended a hand—a firm shake that felt like gripping raw stone. Every muscle in his hand spoke of power tempered by restraint.

“Galen, the Great Wall,” he introduced himself, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of one who had earned his name in strength.