The woodland clearing was quiet but charged, a natural arena framed by thick trunks and tangled roots. Birds had long since flown. Even the wind dared not stir. This place was sacred... or cursed, depending on who you asked. It had no name, but it was an arena for battles.
Two figures stood at its heart: Bren and Kovan. The only two summoned for the challenge today. A challenge meant to break them, not teach.
Sergeant McEvoy stepped forward from the shade of the trees, his sharp gaze locking onto Bren like a hawk sizing up an injured mouse. "You're up first," he said, his voice devoid of softness, emotionless steel.
Bren's throat tightened. This wasn't training. It was survival. And for someone like him, an E-Rank, survival was unlikely.
McEvoy, Leia's father, was a man feared for his ruthless standards. Rumour had it that he once beat an A-Rank trainee into unconsciousness for hesitating during a spar. Mercy had no place in his vocabulary, and sentiment was a foreign language.
As Bren stepped forward, Myla moved beside him, as silent as the forest. Her fingers brushed his palm, slipping something into it with practiced subtlety.
A bracelet.
Silver. Etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly in the dappled sunlight. Not decorative, arcane.
"What's this?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
"My good luck charm," she replied, voice soft but firm. There was a faint smile on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You're going to need it. Try to survive."
That last sentence lingered like a curse.
Bren fastened the bracelet around his wrist. The stones glowed faintly... warm, reassuring. He didn't understand what it was... but something in Myla's tone said it was more than a charm.
He made his way down to the arena. Kovan already waiting nervously behind the gate in the arena. Front row seat to Bren's potential death.
The wooden gates creaked open ahead, and Bren stepped into the arena.
It felt smaller now. Claustrophobic. Like the trees themselves were leaning in to watch. Shadows loomed across the dirt floor, stretching like claws toward him.
From the stands above, Myla, Leia and Sergeant McEvoy watched in silence.
Kovan stood behind a barred gate at the arena's edge, arms crossed, jaw tight.
A shadow shifted.
From it emerged a C-Grade demon. A monstrous brute, thick with muscle and menace. Its eyes glowed with cruel delight, tusked jaws stretching into a grin that promised only pain.
The first blow came without warning.
A meaty fist collided with Bren's chest, sending him flying. His body hit the dirt with a sickening thud, ribs shuddering from the impact. He gasped, but the air wouldn't come.
The demon was on him in a heartbeat.
It grabbed him by the arm, lifting him effortlessly, then hurled him like a broken doll. Bren slammed into a tree. Something cracked inside him.
A scream ripped from his throat, ragged and desperate.
He tried to rise.
The demon was faster.
It grabbed him again, slamming him into the ground. Again. And again.
Blood sprayed from his mouth as he coughed, choking on pain.
He tried to fight back.
He failed.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
You have sustained heavy trauma.
Vitality: 32%
Fractures detected: 3
Blood loss: Increasing...
[SYSTEM UPDATE]
Pain Resistance: Level 2 Activated
From the edge of the ring, Kovan's knuckles whitened around the iron bars.
"That's... brutal," he muttered, eyes dark.
Myla clenched the edge of her seat. Leia leaned forward, her expression unreadable but tense. Even she looked uncertain.
Inside the ring, Bren's screams shattered the air, raw and unfiltered. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony. His vision blurred, colours bleeding at the edges.
Sergeant McEvoy didn't flinch.
"Keep going," he barked. "You don't get to quit."
Bren's knees buckled beneath him. The world tilted.
Darkness crept in.
Then...
A voice. Cold. Familiar... but not his.
"You will not use your true strength unless you bind your soul to me. Until then, you are limited... just as the world demands."
Nythor.
Bren's eyes flew open, pupils dilated.
"Show me what you can handle, boy."
A spark flickered inside him. Not relief. Not healing. Just endurance.
Enough to move.
He shoved the demon back, staggering to his feet on trembling legs.
"You have resilience, yes," Nythor said. "But strength? Agility? Endurance? Low. Very low. Your skill level? Amateur. And your will? Fragile."
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
Skill Levels:
Strength: Level 2
Agility: Level 3
Endurance: Level 4
Resilience: Level 5
Willpower: Level 3
Current Status: Fatigued | Internal Damage Detected
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Bracelet Effect: +2 Passive Regeneration (Limited Duration)
"If you want that power boost, imbecile... bleed for it."
Bren growled, blood dripping from his lips. Then, he swung wildly.
The demon barely flinched.
Still, he moved. Fell. Got up. Took hit after hit.
His screams echoed through the arena, tearing through the silence like blades.
Kovan's jaw twitched. Leia looked away. Myla's hands trembled as they gripped her own bracelet—white-knuckled, silent.
Blow after blow. Bone against bark. Flesh against earth. But Bren never stopped.
He slammed into the ground again, breathless. Vision swimming.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
Health: 17%
Combat Mode: Survival Override Triggered
Instinct Surge Active (+10% reaction speed for 5 seconds)
But it wasn't enough.
The demon roared, slamming Bren down with such force the ground itself groaned. His limbs spasmed. Blood pooled beneath him.
The voice returned. Quieter now.
"How long until you need me?" Nythor's voice echoed like a whisper from the abyss.
Bren stared at the canopy above, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow bursts. The world was slipping. His thoughts spiralled.
He was going to die. Alone. Powerless. Forgotten.
But the voice wouldn't leave.
"You think they'll remember you, boy? You think she gave you that bracelet because she believes in you?" Nythor hissed.
"No. She pities you. All of them do. Even your so-called friends."
Bren clenched his fists. Nails bit into torn flesh.
"No... Cause I can't die here..." Bren replied.
He refused to break.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Warning: Vital levels critical.
Would you like to initiate Emergency Ability:
"Demonblood Surge" (Temporary)?
Activates partial access to Nythor's lineage.
Risk: Soul Instability | Corruption Threshold: 12%
Confirm?
Yes / No
He didn't respond.
He couldn't.
His body trembled... bloodied and broken.
Nythor's laughter echoed in his skull.
"You won't last another minute." Nythor laughed.
The demon raised its clawed hand, ready to strike again.
And then, through cracked lips, Bren growled, "Not... yet."
He surged forward. Weak, wild, tackling the demon's midsection. Not with power, but with sheer refusal to die. His fist landed, pathetic in impact.
"I can't die like this..."
The demon retaliated.
Bren hit the earth. Again.
"I can't die with everyone watching me..."
[SYSTEM UPDATE]
Bracelet of Runes effect triggered:
Emergency healing pulse activated.
Vitality stabilized at 9%
Pain Suppression: +5 seconds
For a heartbeat, the world slowed.
Bren's eyes... burning. He lifted toward the stands.
"I've got to get through it..."
Leia's head was bowed.
Kovan was shaking. On the verge of wanting to save Bren from death.
Myla's lips moved silently... praying, maybe.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
Warning: Soul Fusion with Nythor required to access full power.
Partial abilities temporarily granted.
Current Power Levels: Limited
Survival is key.
Will you accept the pact?
Yes / No
The words pulsed before him.
Bren coughed blood, staggering, barely conscious.
The demon stepped forward, ready for the final blow.
"How long until you need me?" Nythor whispered again, smoother now. Coaxing.
The answer hovered on Bren's tongue... Not yet.
Not... yet.
Not...
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