The Head Instructor stepped forward to call us out, but an official cut across her path and spoke low in her ear. They both turned toward the field. Near the final rise, a section still hung crooked, wood split and sagging from the last run.

  Amelia had left the final rise a complete mess.

  Aleria approached us.

  “Hang five,” she said. “They’re resetting the course.”

  She glanced across the grounds at Amelia and let out a quiet huff. Her gaze lingered a moment too long, disapproval plain on her face. I had the distinct impression it was not just the broken timber that bothered her.

  Around me, Group Four split into tight clusters. The brothers pulled in three other aspirants. One girl. Two boys. Decent armour. Golden ribbons looped through three of their fingers. They stood shoulder to shoulder, speaking low while the brothers laid something out.

  I ignored their scheming and watched the assistants reset the massive stone walls and repair the wooden beams with steady, practiced movements. Timber lifted. Stone slid back into place.

  The pause gave me a few more precious seconds. I traced the layout, marked the rises and dips, and fixed the weak points in my mind. I noted where others had stumbled. Where they had fallen. One massive ramp stood out, the quickest route upward and the most exposed.

  As soon as the last beam locked into place, the crowd roared. I turned toward the noise and faced a sea of watching faces.

  Lumi hummed. “Too many eyes.”

  I knew what he meant. If I struck another blade with him, they would not just see steel clash. They would see the other weapon break apart and be consumed.

  In a place that feared unsanctioned power, that display would not go unnoticed. It would turn the arena against me in an instant.

  My hand settled on the dagger at my hip. The rough grip warmed beneath my palm.

  It would have to be enough for now.

  I drew a slow, steady breath. The runes still pulsed beneath my skin. I did not need to draw the blade. But if it came to that, I already had a few ideas up my sleeve.

  The sword hummed.

  “Only if they piss me off,” I muttered.

  The brothers’ heads turned together at the sound of my voice. Their eyes flicked to me, swept the course, then settled back on me again. A small, deliberate smirk passed between them.

  I broke eye contact before anything showed on my face.

  A few voices carried over the noise behind me. One cut through the rest. I knew it.

  I turned and scanned the tiers as the sound rolled over the stone. Thousands leaned forward, shouting over each other. The noise closed in from all sides until a familiar flash of colour caught my eye.

  Barracks uniforms. A tight cluster of them.

  Derry stood in the centre.

  He was a few rows up, with seven or eight others in red, packed along the bench. His eagerness set him apart.

  Beside him stood a tall, narrow man with his hood pulled low. He kept one hand out. Derry set a heavy sack into it. The man’s arm dropped with the weight before he tucked it tight against his side. Derry gave him a firm clap on the shoulder.

  Their preliminaries must be later, I thought.

  Derry caught sight of me and threw up a wide wave. A few faces around him looked familiar. I had seen them leaning over the ropes when I fought Nick’s lot.

  Derry cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted.

  “Good luck, Butcher!”

  The crowd swallowed most of it, but I caught enough.

  I sighed. That name was going to follow me whether I liked it or not.

  I faced the field again as the Head Instructor stepped forward. “Alright,” she called, her voice cutting through the noise. “Take your positions. They’re just double checking the course. Won’t be long.”

  We complied without argument, trailing the assistants to the outer ring and spacing ourselves along the edge.

  Lumi hummed as I walked, a low note of warning. I swept my gaze over the others.

  A flicker caught the edge of my vision. A faint glint. A coin slipped from an aspirant’s hand into an assistant’s palm and vanished just as quickly.

  Subtle. Meant to go unnoticed.

  I kept my expression neutral and studied the line.

  Three of the golden ribbon holders stood far to my right, spaced just wide enough to pass for chance. Alex took his place beside them, his brother at his shoulder.

  The last ribbon holder outside their inner circle stood between us.

  I measured the gaps again. Counted the steps.

  Why did they cluster the ribbon bearers?

  The answer settled heavy in my gut.

  They were setting the board. Stacking the deck.

  Assistants walked the course ahead of us, checking beams, tightening ropes, testing the pivots with firm hands. The broken section near the final rise had been replaced. The structure stood straight again, solid at a glance.

  I scanned their faces as they worked. Was the one who took the coin among them? If one hand opened that easily, how many others would?

  The Head Instructor stepped aside and delivered her final instructions.

  “Remember, no maiming. No killing. Use your blessings but keep them in check.”

  I shifted my focus to the two aspirants nearest me.

  Both wore serviceable armour. Leather reinforced in places, no heavy gambeson, no steel. It was barely better than hunting gear. Each carried a small wooden shield. One held a hammer. The other gripped an old sword, its edge worn thin from use.

  No killing. No maiming, I echoed her words in my mind.

  I slipped my hand into the rune pouch and drew out the gloves Roy had delivered. I had set them aside for a fight like this. No runes marked them, nothing for Lumi to feed on. Just thick, heat-treated leather, tough enough to hold red-hot metal and still supple enough for fine work.

  I pulled them on. The scent of oil rose from the leather, sharp but not unpleasant.

  Then I drew my dagger.

  Their attention snapped to it. To me. In their eyes, the blade already belonged to one of them. They glanced at each other, measuring, calculating. Not watching me. Watching each other.

  Ribbon secured in my left hand. The dagger steady in my right.

  I set my feet and settled into my stance, watching the ring of aspirants mirror me.

  It was our turn.

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  The noise drained from the arena. For a heartbeat, the silence felt heavy enough to touch.

  Then…

  The horn sounded.

  A dull flare burst on either side as blessings ignited. Shields snapped up. Boots tore at the grass as the two closest to me charged at once.

  I grinned and shifted back a single step.

  They slammed into each other. Wood boomed. Arms buckled. One staggered. The other swore.

  They blinked, realising what happened, then snapped their heads and shields toward me.

  Lumi hummed.

  The runes flared against my hip. Heat surged through me, down my arms, into my hands. My joints tightened and locked. Breath steady.

  I stepped in.

  I dipped my shoulder and turned through my hips, driving my full weight into the first strike. Toward the guy on my left.

  My fist slammed into the centre of his shield.

  A crack split the air.

  The shield detonated under my fist. Wood exploded outward in a spray of splinters as my knuckles tore straight through it and into the boy behind. The impact ripped him off his feet. He hit the ground hard and skidded across the grass.

  I tore the splintered shield free from my arm and pivoted.

  The second boy flinched, a heartbeat too late. I seized the rim of his shield and ripped it hard to the side. His fingers slipped. The strap bit deep into his forearm and wrenched his arm with it as the leather tore free. Something snapped. He cried out.

  I drove my boot into his shin and took his legs out from under him.

  He hit the ground with a heavy thud.

  The crowd roared behind me.

  No time to look.

  More bodies pressed in. Five at least.

  They faltered for a step, then committed and surged forward.

  Beyond them, I caught sight of the cup high in the distance.

  I vaulted over the fallen aspirants and broke into a sprint. Grass gave way to timber as my boots drove up the first and largest ramp.

  At the crest of the ramp, something whirred to life.

  I skidded to a stop just short of it.

  A wooden golem.

  Six arms. A sword in each.

  I clenched my jaw. The golem moved too clean, too fast. Its joints snapped with sharp precision, arms cycling without hesitation. The mechanisms along its frame had been set to its maximum.

  A tight knot of annoyance formed in my chest.

  After the coin I had seen slip between hands, this did not feel like chance.

  Footsteps pounded in behind me.

  An arrow hissed from my left.

  The perception rune flared a heartbeat before it struck. I twisted. The shaft skimmed past my ribs, close enough for the fletching to brush my clothes.

  The sudden movement made the others falter. Just for a second.

  I counted them.

  Ten.

  For now, I was the only target.

  I swore under my breath and searched for another path.

  There wasn’t one.

  Far below, the brothers and their golden ribbon gang tightened their formation. Crumpled bodies marked their path. They moved as one and boxed the last ribbon holder in from every side.

  He vanished beneath them.

  When they stepped back, the ribbon was gone. So were his weapons and anything worth taking.

  A spear lunged for my chest, gripped tight in the hands of a girl whose expression never wavered.

  I snapped the midnight dagger up. The spear tip skimmed past my face by inches as the blade caught the shaft.

  Dark steel bit.

  I twisted and drove through.

  The wood split with a sharp crack. The severed tip spun away and dropped into the grass below.

  Her eyes widened.

  I stepped in and drove my forearm into her chest. She stumbled back hard into the bodies surging up behind her.

  I kept moving.

  A blade flashed toward me. I knocked it aside and drove my shoulder into its owner. He staggered.

  Another grabbed my arm. I tore free and hurled him aside.

  They hit the lip of the ramp in a tangle of limbs and splintered shields. Power still shimmered around them, but their movements lagged. Too slow.

  One of their heels slid on the edge.

  His balance broke.

  The one behind him crashed into his back. The girl between them lost her footing.

  They went over together, tumbling down the side in a heap.

  I stepped back to the top of the ramp, breath steady.

  Wood creaked behind me.

  The golem loomed at my heel.

  An arrow hissed past my ear.

  Boots pounded below.

  More aspirants poured up the ramp. They broke away from the gang and angled toward me. A few still clashed at the back, but most fixed their eyes on me.

  I counted as they closed.

  At least twenty.

  For a heartbeat, the wooden golem behind me seemed the easier fight.

  Then another stepped into view.

  And another.

  Three now blocked my path.

  “Seriously?”

  The golems had never worked together like this in the previous matches.

  Two more stepped in from the flanks and formed a wall. They spread out and sealed the gaps. There was nowhere to run.

  The aspirants charging up from below did not seem to realise they had walked into the same trap.

  I exhaled through my teeth.

  “Alright,” I said under my breath. “So that’s how it is.”

  This was meant to be a trial. A measure of who was worthy to wield the power this realm offered, and to use it for something greater than themselves.

  From where I stood, I saw none of that.

  Below me stood a crush of selfish hands and greedy eyes. They lunged for ribbons, for weapons, for anything they could take. Cowardly in packs, bold only when circling the weak. Not one of them carried the weight that power demanded. They wanted it for themselves. To climb over others. To hoard it once they had it.

  “Selfish,” said Lumi.

  I agreed with him. So far, I had kept it clean. I disarmed. I shoved them aside. I sent them rolling down the ramp instead of leaving them broken on it.

  Heat climbed into my chest.

  These were children reaching for strength they did not respect.

  Fine, I’ll play the villain this time.

  Lumi hummed.

  I twisted my silver ring.

  The change came in a blink. One layer vanished and another sealed into place. Dark red settled across my body.

  Jerald’s colours.

  The thick gloves had been replaced by fine cloth that shimmered with restrained runic power.

  The aspirants froze.

  The crowd pulled in a breath. For a heartbeat, the arena fell quiet.

  Then Derry’s voice cut through it.

  “Fuck ’em up, Butcher!”

  I flew down the ramp.

  The nearest boy raised his sword too late. I caught his wrist, twisted, and tore the weapon from his grip. Something popped. He screamed. I drove my boot into his chest and sent him tumbling off the ramp.

  I met the next strike head on. The borrowed blade slammed edge first into a descending hammer. Wood splintered. Steel rang. The impact tore up his arm and something in his shoulder popped.

  His eyes went wide behind the narrow slits of his helm.

  I reversed the grip and drove the sword’s hilt down across his helmet.

  Metal rang out. He sagged where he stood and dropped.

  I shoved him aside with the broken blade and kept moving. I was about to engage with another when an arrow sliced toward me.

  Lumi hummed.

  I snatched it from the air.

  The impact jarred my arm, but I held it. For a heartbeat, I stared at the shaft in my hand.

  The crowd erupted.

  Across the ramp, the archer stared back in disbelief.

  I snapped my arm forward.

  The arrow tore back at him, slicing past his shoulder before skidding across the boards behind him.

  A would-be mage stepped in, hands already gathering a burst of flame.

  I closed the gap before he could release it. I seized the lantern from his grip and spun through the motion, sending it hard toward the archer.

  He raised his bow on instinct.

  The lantern struck.

  Fire leapt across the wood. He cried out and dropped the weapon as it flared in his hands.

  Below us, the gang closed ranks and moved as a unit. They advanced at a steady pace, not toward me, but toward the scattered stragglers.

  They dragged others down, ripped weapons from their hands, tore belts loose, and stripped pouches while the fallen tried to crawl clear.

  My jaw tightened.

  The mage from before tore a club from his belt and swung at my head.

  I brought my forearm up.

  The club slammed into the reinforced layers beneath the robes and rebounded. The impact barely registered against my skin. I grinned. Roy had done more than refine them. I wondered at how many hidden plates of runes lay beneath the surface.

  The mage blinked, unsure.

  I held his gaze for a breath, then stepped in, seized him by the face, and drove him backward in one smooth motion, sending him over the edge.

  The ease of it unsettled me.

  Smoke erupted in front of me, thick and sudden.

  I braced for steel.

  Instead, a fully armoured boy with glowing eyes slammed into my waist and tried to drive me down.

  I held my ground.

  He strained harder, boots grinding against the boards, breath ragged with effort. His shoulder pressed into me, but the force barely registered. I looked down at him.

  He was far weaker than the two I had fought at the barracks.

  Only moments ago, they had all watched me as if I were beneath them.

  I let out a slow breath.

  “Enough,” I said.

  I caught him at the waist and lifted. Armour and all, I hauled him off the ground and flipped him upside down. I raised him over my head and hurled him through the smoke.

  Steel crashed into steel beyond the cloud.

  The smoke tore apart and drifted thin.

  I stepped through.

  Plenty of them remained.

  But none of them felt dangerous now. They looked like children swinging steel at a prize they did not understand.

  Images pressed in. The memories Lumi had shown me. The fights I had clawed through just to survive. The times I had stood bleeding, barely upright. The pain. The curse.

  Those trials had carved something into me.

  This was not that.

  These were not heroes. They would never be heroes.

  It was time to finish this little game.

  Lumi hummed as I drew him. To the others, he was only another sword.

  “Careful,” Lumi said.

  I gave a small nod.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  A few of them glanced around, unsure who I was speaking to.

  I ran my thumb along the blade until it found the corrupted rune hidden beneath the disguise.

  I pressed. Letting the kinetic rune release.

  The world shifted.

  Purple flooded my vision. Every edge sharpened. Every movement stretched and slowed. The aspirants closest to me hesitated and stepped back. Their reactions lagged, a fraction behind where they should have been.

  It wouldn’t take long to cut through the lot, but it felt like wasted effort.

  I shifted my focus to the gang below. All four other ribbons were there. Ribbons they didn’t deserve. They had trapped a few stragglers. Two stood over a fallen boy, tearing at his belt and pouch.

  They were the only threat to me now.

  Power spread from the runes and poured into me. Heat flooded my limbs, thicker and heavier than before, pressing against bone and muscle until it demanded release.

  I planted my feet.

  The aspirants in front of me shifted, uneasy. Steel lifted. Shields angled forward.

  I released the power coiled in my joints and drove off the ground.

  The ramp vanished beneath me.

  Air tore past my ears.

  I cleared their heads before their blades could rise high enough to matter.

  I landed beyond them, boots striking hard among the thieving gang.

  They flinched. Stared.

  One let out a short, uncertain laugh.

  Then he met my gaze.

  The purple in my eyes swallowed the sound in his throat.

  Silence spread through them, thin and sharp.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  I stood there, dark red wrapped tight across my body, the hum of the runes steady in my veins, the weight of every trial I had survived settling behind my eyes.

  They had wanted power.

  Now they were looking at it.