"What’s happening?" The cry rolled through the ranks as the ground began to tremble, first faint, then steady. Lines tightened; shields rose, blades slid free, and Spark skills were readied, coiling around their wielders like held breath for an enemy no one could see.

"It’s coming from the Tower." Adyr’s voice cut through the noise.

He stood ready to lift off, wings flexed, one hand set on the sword strap across his back, while the shaking gathered inside the stone. The pulse thickened in the Tower’s core, then pushed outward in a slow, heavy wave that made the islet quiver like a struck drum.

For a heartbeat, nothing changed but the grinding underfoot. Then the dead balconies kindled. A thin, colorless glow crept along their edges, brightening by degrees as the tremors ebbed to a taut shiver.

When the last ripple faded, the wooden door at the base dragged open with a long groan, and a wash of pale light spilled across the flagstones.

"Are we escaping or not?" Loudbark watched the gap widen, worry sharpening his words.

The question moved through the group like a signal. They eased back, step by careful step, choosing distance because no one wanted to test the threshold first.

They had barely begun to withdraw when the light inside swelled as if it had weight, then surged outward in a clean, soundless burst that erased the world to white; vision collapsed, the air pressed flat, and for an instant there was only the hammering of one’s own heart.

The brilliance receded as smoothly as it came. The islet stood quiet and unmarked, the wind unchanged, the stones where they had always been.

But something had changed: the Practitioners who had stood there a moment ago were gone. Only the wooden doors still moved, inching shut on creaking hinges as their echo slipped into the void and thinned to nothing.

—

"W-where is this place?"

As sight returned after the flash, the Practitioners looked around and realized the world had changed.

"Are we inside the Tower?" Another voice murmured. Shock and a thin edge of excitement marked every face as they tried to understand how a space like this could exist within it.

They stood on golden sand at the heart of an open coliseum. Above them stretched a flawless blue sky, too clean to belong under a roof. Stone tiers rose in perfect rings, climbing into the light. More than 100 Practitioners crowded the center, boots half-sunk in warm grit, the scuff of their steps swallowed by the arena’s hush.

They were not alone. The seats were packed to the brim with spectators—thousands, perhaps tens of thousands—whose features and clothing varied enough to mark many races. They looked down as one.

"Hey... are they real? Why do they look frozen?" Loudbark’s words came out tight.

None of the spectators moved. Not a single expression flickered, and not the faintest sound escaped. Every gaze was locked on the arena—on them—as if the entire crowd were carved from living stone and set to watch.

Adyr took it in without a word, swords already drawn, stance set, focus sharpened to a point, ready to move at the first sign of danger.

This place reminds me of a gladiatorial coliseum. What is the purpose here: trial, culling, or spectacle? He kept the thought to himself, curious about what would come next and why they had been dragged into this place.

Thalira Luna and Brakhtar Gorat scanned the tiers and the perfect sky, pupils tight, shoulders coiled. Heirs of two top races, and even they looked unmoored, trying to decide whether to brace for a fight or hunt for a way out.

At last, the stillness was shattered. The spectators who had stood like statues erupted at once, a joyous thunder rolling around the tiers and shaking the stone. The roar climbed the seats and poured back onto the sand; then, as if cued by the uproar, a line of script unfurled before the Practitioners, and its meaning settled over them like a verdict.

[Hearken, Children of the Coliseum. The sands summon your valor; step forth and be proved.]

The system message hung before every Practitioner, leaving no doubt about where they now stood.

"So we’re inside a Treasure, huh?" The message hung in the air while understanding clicked into place for Thalira Luna, excitement openly brightening her face.

Treasures were countless, and like Sparks, each possessed its own strange properties.

The difference was simple: Sparks were born of the world itself, while Treasures were made things, the handiwork of powers greater than mortals—gods and demigods by most accounts. Which meant that even a Treasure dismissed as minor had a deliberate purpose built into it, and that purpose usually came with formidable benefits.

Adyr’s Mother Tree was also a Treasure, created for a single purpose: to grant free stat points in exchange for daily fertilizer worth 50 energy crystals.

"But what is this Treasure meant for?" Maruun’s brow knit as he studied the hovering text. "Does it expect us to fight in the arena? If we defeat whatever it throws at us, will it grant a reward?"

Drawing on what he knew about Treasures, his guess was close to the mark: most of them followed a give-and-take logic. Moments later, a new system message appeared, seemingly confirming it.

[The First Trial is called.]

Goal: Slay the Beast

Reward: 100 free stat points.

Payout: Measured by each fighter’s contribution.

As the proclamation rang out, the spectators packed into the stone tiers erupted, their roar rolling across the sand. At the same moment, an iron gate along the arena wall began to lift with a grinding pull.

From the dark beyond, a creature stepped out on four legs—hide the color of dark mustard, a great black mane framing its head—and moved onto the sand with slow, certain strides.

A lion? The thought flashed and was gone. Adyr was already in motion.

He wasn’t the only one who understood that speed meant reward.

Thalira Luna flashed into motion, her body streaking silver; she vanished from where she stood and, in the next heartbeat, appeared at the lion’s side before it could even register the threat.

Her rapier swept once, clean and precise. The blade parted flesh; blood sprayed; the maned head dropped and rolled across the sand.

"She’s fast, as expected." Adyr allowed himself a small smile while the tiers erupted again, the sight of blood driving the crowd into an energized frenzy.

[The First Trial has Concluded.]

Contribution scores: calculating... displaying...

As the new system text flared before every eye, faces across the arena—everyone but the Lunari—fell into the same resigned look, already certain who would take the reward.

Then the full list resolved, and the certainty shattered; shock rippled through them all.

"How is this possible?" Even Thalira stared as if the world had turned upside down.

1. Adyr Hellcraft —Contribution 35% → 35 Free Stat Points awarded

2. Thalira Luna —Contribution 34% → 34 Free Stat Points awarded

3. Brakhtar Gorat —Contribution 31% → 31 Free Stat Points awarded

While everyone else gaped at the unexpected rankings, Adyr fixated on something else.

Hellcraft? What the hell?

It was what people on Earth called him these days, but seeing it listed here as his surname, though, took him by surprise and drew a small frown.