The very moment he stepped out of the underground hall, Ferir nearly stumbled.

  Sunlight poured straight into his eyes, while noise surged at him from every direction at once. The circular arena made him feel as though millions of gazes were glued to his body, and the crystal-clear sky above seemed unnaturally vast, pressing down on his chest like a weight.

  It felt as if he alone had been left standing, bare and exposed, against the entire world.

  Ferir climbed onto the arena platform and immediately noticed a cage already waiting there. This one was noticeably smaller than the cages he had seen over the past two days. The bars were set too close together for him to make out what lay inside, but it was obvious that the demonic beast within was far smaller as well.

  He should have considered himself lucky. Yet a quiet warning rang in Ferir’s mind told that this opponent was not to be underestimated. Studies of monsters in books confirmed that their danger level was sometimes not directly proportional to their size.

  Before Ferir could think any further, the familiar clang of the gong rang out, announcing the start of the match.

  The cage door burst open. A black shadow shot out from within at terrifying speed.

  Ferir barely had time to react. Instinct alone made him raise the Flame horizontally in front of him. The blade caught the demonic beast’s incoming claw just in time, the impact forcing the creature to rebound backward.

  Only then did everyone truly see it. The beast was only slightly larger than an ordinary dog. Its black fur stood on end in a threatening bristle, foul saliva dripping continuously from its open jaws.

  Although not enormous, it was still terrifying, and its speed was far too fast.

  Ferir kept retreating to create a safe distance, but the beast's leap was beyond his expectations. A single leap carried it more than five meters, its acceleration almost instantaneous.

  Ferir managed to evade twice more, relying entirely on luck.

  On the third attack, a sharp claw tore across his right arm, leaving behind a burning gash.

  Blood seeped out, staining the fabric around the wound a deep red. It was not a serious injury, but in a moment like this, it struck straight at his resolve. The pain screamed through his nerves, nearly making him drop Flame.

  Ferir’s head spun as he retreated further back. He could not keep running like this. Arvil had taught him more than mere evasion. He tried to steady himself, to regain his rhythm, but the noise from all sides crashed down on him without mercy.

  “Fight back! Are you just going to keep running?”

  “That was a terrible start. He’s probably done for.”

  “That beast is fast, isn’t it? It feels so different from the earlier ones.”

  “What a waste of such good gear!”

  After several attacks, the beast seemed to be regaining its strength, slowly circling around. Its blood-red eyes staring intently at Ferir.

  The Flame sword in Ferir’s hand suddenly felt unbearably heavy. The only thought echoing in his mind was to throw the blade away and flee the arena as fast as his legs could carry him.

  Why was his opponent so different? None of the others had been forced to fight a demonic beast built so heavily around speed.

  Every strategy he had rehearsed in his head collapsed the moment he faced this unexpected foe. What was he supposed to do now?

  The chaotic noise from the stands spun endlessly in his head, blending into a meaningless roar he could no longer understand.

  “Ferir, hang in there!”

  Ferir jolted. He thought he had heard a familiar voice. He looked up, scanning the packed stands in a daze. Was Arvil shouting at him just now… or was he imagining things?

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  Sensing its opponent’s lapse in focus, the demonic beast lunged forward at full speed.

  In that unguarded instant, Ferir did not even realize that his body was already moving on instinct. With a light sidestep, he slipped to the creature’s left, then swung his sword upward in a smooth arc from below.

  The beast was caught off guard by the counterattack and tried to retreat, but it was a beat slow. Even so, because of the angle and imperfect force, the slash did not seem to deal any serious damage.

  Though it failed to injure the beast, this was the first time Ferir had launched a successful attack of his own.

  Almost immediately, his mind snapped back into clarity. He quickly retreated to create distance. The demonic beast, now wounded, also became more cautious, no longer throwing itself forward recklessly as it had before.

  Ferir glanced at the hourglass, realizing for the first time how slowly it could flow. He felt like he'd been there forever, yet only three minutes had passed.

  Trying to regulate his breathing, he recalled the words of his reluctant swordsmanship teacher:

  "Relax, your body will do what it knows how to do."

  Ferir took a deep breath, slowly clearing all the messy thoughts off his mind. The chaotic noise from the stands was pushed farther and farther away.

  He planted his feet, lowered his center of gravity, and settled into a ready stance. His gaze locked onto the demonic beast’s blood-red eyes.

  The Flame suddenly sent a warmth surging, lowing from the hilt into his arm, then seeping into every muscle and nerve. Just like their first encounter.

  From this moment on, he would fight seriously.

  The beast seemed to sense the change in its "prey." It tensed its muscles, then began to move even faster than before.

  Just as Ferir thought it was about to lunge at him as usual, the creature abruptly changed direction mid-leap.

  Its movements erratic and ruleless. Each jump carried lethal intent, yet offered no clear angle of attack, no obvious target for Ferir to guard.

  Ferir tries to keep up with its movements, spinning like a top in the whirlwind.

  Then, without warning, razor-sharp claws tore through the thin fabric over his left thigh before Ferir could fully evade, slicing into flesh. Pain flared white-hot. One strike became two, then three, the attacks landing in rapid succession.

  Ferir’s reflexes could no longer keep up. His opponent never stayed in one place long enough.

  Another minute slipped through the hourglass.

  One strike. Just one. He had to stop this storm with a single blow. Ferir knew he would never be lucky enough to land a second clean hit on a shadow that never ceased moving.

  So he waited.

  Ahead. Left. Behind.

  Not yet.

  Ahead again. Left. Right—

  Right.

  Ferir twisted his body sharply to the right, planting his foot as his right hand drove the Flame forward with everything he had.

  The blade plunged straight into the demonic beast’s chest. Dark blood erupted outward, splattering across the stone.

  Before Ferir could even rejoice, he felt his foot stepping on nothing but thin air. He had been pushed back to the edge of the arena without realizing it.

  Ferir’s body toppled backward from a height of two meters, crashing hard onto the solid ground below.

  Almost at the same moment, the gong signaling the end of the match rang out.

  The entire Training Ground froze, stunned by the abrupt turn of events. The latter half of the battle had unfolded too fast, too chaotically, for most spectators to follow.

  No one could say for certain whether Candidate 3271 had hit the ground first, or whether the gong had sounded first. The decision now rested with the judges.

  A medical team rushed toward the candidate lying motionless on the ground. Yet before they could even reach him, Ferir suddenly sprang upright like a released spring, eyes wide with confusion.

  A heartbeat later, those eyes slowly narrowed as his mind caught up with what had just happened.

  When the medics asked if he was hurt, Ferir shook his head. He staggered to his feet and made his way back toward the arena floor, where candidates awaited their verdicts, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground beneath his feet.

  Ferir believed he had fallen off the arena floor before the gong sounded. Leaving the combat area before time expired was an instant disqualification under the rules.

  His mind went completely blank.

  What was he supposed to say to Arvil now? After all the help he had been given, he still could not amount to anything in the end.

  The judges exchanged glances. Then a flag was raised.

  Green.

  Ferir thought he must be seeing things. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.

  Still green.

  The judges had decided that Ferir had not left the arena floor within the allotted time.

  The stands erupted. Whistles pierced the air, cheers and excited shouts crashing together in a single roaring wave of celebration.

  Only then did Ferir’s senses slowly return to him.

  He was standing in the middle of the circular arena of the Arena of Trial, having cleared the second round amid the cheers and praise of thousands. The sound around him seemed to rise in volume bit by bit, until it became a storm that flooded straight into his mind.

  Ferir clenched his fists tightly.

  He had done it.