For the fourth time in the last hour, I seriously considered eliminating Darius myself.

The muscle-covered man strode beside me speaking at full volume, snapping every fucking twig, stick, and branch he came across, and worst of all? He was trying to get into my pants.

Again.

"...Thirteen times," he said, turning to me with a smile that showed a single dimple. Darius was handsome, but noble breeding meant almost everyone in our social circles was nice to look at. Frankly, I didn't give two shits if he was pretty. He was annoying.

"But have I mentioned I was deployed to the burning forest when I was sixteen? There were days I thought I'd—"

"Would you shut the fuck up?" I hissed. I'd been chosen by Kalcus to lead the scouting parties because of my Whisperfoot Boots. They completely masked the sound of footsteps for myself and any ally within a few meters. They also made my steps light enough to leave no tracks. But Darius' constant rambling defeated the purpose.

He eyed me, completely unbothered by my clear disinterest. "You know, I've always liked what you do with your hair. All those little braids. There's something about them and that scar—"

He reached for my face but I caught his wrist, twisting and glaring into his eyes. "You will not touch me."

Darius had the nerve to smile. "See? This is why I like you. You're not as easy as the other girls. A challenge."

I gave him a rough shove while I had him off balance and made him stumble backward. He laughed, straightening his big body and adjusting his gleaming plate armor. "You're only making me want it more, woman."

"Touch me and I swear to all the lost gods I'll end you before the stasis can even trigger."

He flicked an eyebrow up. "So it's a date after the tourney? Is that what you're saying?"

By some miracle, the morning view portal appeared overhead, distracting him as we both looked up to watch the scenes they'd selected to show us today.

Even nobility like us couldn't completely trust what we saw in these. The game makers played favorites, and the scenes shown were curated for their purposes. If they wanted us to attack a particular group, we couldn't know if it was because they believed we'd win or because they knew we'd lose.

Still, I studied every image with careful attention. Unlike most of the other nobles, I needed to finish in at least the top ten. Given the number of eliminations, kills, objective captures, and even the solo hunting I'd done so far, I thought I had a chance. But it would all depend on how the final days played out. If I was eliminated too early, I'd almost certainly fall behind in points. Or if I missed out on a final battle, I would surely fall in the rankings.

The winner of the tourney wasn't always the last person standing, but I knew I needed to survive longer to have a chance.

The first scene showed Vitus Ra-Set.

Now that was the kind of pretty I could get used to. The man was from legendary stock and he looked every bit the part. The scene showed him and some of his Azure Guard allies storming a keep. The occupants were ethereal enemies and it looked as though his party had to find magical torches that made the creatures susceptible to damage.

The way Vitus calmly instructed his allies and figured out the puzzle under pressure was admirable. It made me wish I'd been able to land on a spot on his team.

It wasn't for lack of trying, of course.

But my parents were lesser nobles because we could only trace our status back four generations. The best I could do was rank up and force the respect of the inner nobility. Because power was a language the nobility spoke, but only when it became too loud for them to ignore.

And I lacked the family history and power to team up with someone like Vitus. He was the cream of the noble crop, and I wasn't even sure he'd seen the letter I sent.

Instead I was stuck with Kalcus. Brutal fucking Kalcus. He would've raged and sent his own people in first to that keep, suffering casualties while someone else figured out the puzzle for him. Then, of course, he would claim the credit.

No… as part of Kalcus' team, the chances of the game managers choosing us as a favorite was almost nonexistent. So what were they hoping to manipulate by showing us this?

The scenes jumped around until we finally saw Vitus stepping over the corpse of the keep guardian and claiming the altar. He looked to one of his allies. "Outposts next, or more keeps?"

The girl—Marcia Anukis—pursed her lips in thought. "Keeps."

"Agreed," Thalor Kenti said. "The outposts aren't worth our time."

"Cowards," Darius muttered under his breath as he watched the scene. "If you ask me, the strategy is to take everything. Castles, keeps, outposts. Why limit yourself?"

"Because they have a smaller group than us," I said irritably. "Shut up. I'm trying to listen."

I ignored Darius' response as I watched the next scene. It was the bone choir. Lord Nathaniel Ashmore in his bone armor was laughing with his arms raised as a swarm of undead rushed a keep. But this keep wasn't guarded by monsters. It was the Gemini Twins and their allies.

The twins fought bravely, but they were clearly being overrun as more members of the bone choir darted within the masses of undead like twisted shadows.

Necromancy. It was a disgusting kind of magic. Hardly better than turning Forsaken, if you asked me.

One by one, the Gemini Twins and their allies were lifted upward in stasis toward the airships.

"Damn," Darius sighed. "I was planning to fuck the one with the gold whip. She made eyes at me on the airship. I think her name was Lilianne?"

"Lilith. And she's into women."

"I could change her mind about that," Darius said with a shrug.

The next scene was the mysterious aspirant with the horned helmet. Brynn Stygos, if I remembered correctly. Like usual, the scene on display showed him looking weak. The man was always exhausted, covered in blood, and looked as though he was about to fall over. We never saw him do anything, so I couldn't quite figure out why they made a point of showing us how weak the leader of the mongrel army was time and time again.

I imagined they would want a crowd favorite like Vitus to take him down. But it felt like the images they showed us were driving home how weak and vulnerable he was.

"Pathetic," Darius laughed. "Looks like he can barely stand up straight."

A few more scenes flicked by. Some slaves being slaughtered. A man with shadow daggers eliminating a noble in single combat, which was admittedly impressive, considering I didn't know him.

When it all ended, I realized there was a sound in the sudden silence.

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Someone walking.

I jerked my head to the right, motioning one finger to my lips in hopes that Darius would, for once in his privileged life, shut the fuck up.

He rolled his eyes at me and strode toward the sound, stepping outside the range of my boots. "Who goes there?" Darius shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

There was a rustling sound and a figure stepped out of a thick area of overgrowth. A figure I instantly recognized.

Plain iron helmet with horns. Blood soaked clothing and skin. Hints of a handsome jaw and eyes that watched from the shadows of his helm with cold intelligence. Broad shoulders and a lithe, athletic build.

It was Brynn. Leader of the Mongrel Army. The man who appeared to be absolutely useless from everything we'd ever seen in the view portals.

He looked bigger in person. Taller. Just… more.

But I couldn't shake the countless images I'd seen of him. No matter how he seemed in person, I didn't think there was much more to this man than met the eye.

Oddly, there was a single view portal behind him showing a few grommets in a dirt chamber that was hand-dug to look like a colosseum of sorts. Grommets? Since when did grommets watch the tournament?

"What are you doing here?" Darius asked, but I could see him sliding a single hand behind his back and gripping the hilt of one of his throwing daggers. Darius' Sword Class revolved around modifications to thrown objects, and I could already see flames licking their way from his fingertips down the weapon, superheating it as he prepared to throw.

Brynn said nothing. He leaned on a polearm I hadn't seen in the view portals. Its tip was a spearpoint. Below the spear, there was a hammer headed end, a curved and sharp end, and two smaller spikes on the remaining two sides.

I slowly approached Darius. Even though everything I'd seen told me Brynn was no threat, I couldn't shake a sense of very real danger. It was practically radiating off him in dark waves like nothing I'd ever felt. Or was it just the unnerving way he was watching us quietly, making no sound?

No. I didn't think it was my imagination.

I'd faced capable opponents before, and the most deadly by far had given me the same impression this man was giving me now. It was the appearance of casual posture, but some unmistakable sense of gathering power. Looking at him, I could imagine he was a spring. Tightly coiled, ready to explode at a moment's notice.

"Listen," I said, letting mana flow to my fists. My own class was Shield based, and I could draw from my surroundings to make things. My specialty was making nearly impenetrable elemental armor, but I could also create sharp objects and shapes from nature and manipulate them to an extent.

I sent a trickle of mana into the earth and mud at my feet, preparing the shape of the armor I would call in my mind. The rest of my focus waited just behind Brynn as I visualized a sharp-tipped spike of earth that would punch straight through the back of his head at my signal.

And then his eyes twitched to the side, head following slightly.

I froze.

It was almost as if he had felt my mana gathering behind him.

"Do you want something?" I asked, licking my lips. A bead of sweat rolled down from my hairline, raced down the bridge of my nose, and dripped to the mud below.

Why the fuck was I nervous? Even if he was more than the view portals let on, he was only an Aspirant. And they had let us see the intake forms on the airship. The highest level Aspirant was only a level 15 Iron. I was level 40, Iron Rank, and I'd trained my whole life for combat. And there were two of us. Darius was lower level, but Iron as well.

"Why so quiet?" Darius asked. The dagger was glowing so brightly now I thought Brynn had to see the light blossoming from behind Darius' back. But he wasn't moving. He was just standing there.

"You two are scouts?" he asked finally, voice slightly hollow from within his helmet. He sounded surprisingly calm. Almost casual, as if he didn't realize we weren't planning to let him walk out of here without a fight.

"Where is your army?" I countered. Better to have him answering questions

"Resting," he said.

"And the leader of the mongrel army doesn't sleep?" Darius asked. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the sneer in his words.

"Not tonight," he said simply.

I didn't like this. Why the fuck didn't I like this? More sweat dripped down my temples.

"Were you two looking for us?" he asked. As he spoke, he summoned something from his slip space. A bottle, from the looks of it. A greenish-yellow liquid swirled inside, bubbling slightly.

"Alright," Darius said. "Fuck all this talking."

In a motion so fast I could barely track it, Darius threw the fire-charged dagger straight for Brynn's chest.

The projectile hissed through the air, leaving a trail of smoke and exploding into a tree behind where Brynn had been standing. Flames and sparks exploded from the tree, which creaked and tipped sideways.

But Brynn had simply moved one foot back, allowing the dagger to pass inches from his chest. He kept his eyes trained on Darius, posture showing no sign of alarm.

Something in the way he stood made my blood run cold.

Fuck.

Everything was happening too fast, but some part of my brain was putting it together bit by bit. This was why they made him look weak. Because we weren't their favorites, and they were luring us into underestimating him.

Or maybe he'd just been lucky?

Growling, Darius charged two more daggers with fire and void, flinging them for Brynn.

I may not like Darius, but the attacks were fast and deadly. I could admit that much.

Brynn easily dodged again, though, almost as if he knew where the daggers would move before they even left Darius' hand.

My lungs went tight with fear as I reached into the ground behind him, driving a spike of earth straight for his back. But he stepped aside, moving out of its way at the last second without even looking.

What the fuck.

My heart pounded in my ears, but I forced down the rising panic. He was just an aspirant. He had some kind of evasion Shield class, maybe. But he'd run out of mana and luck eventually.

I called mud and earth to my body, creating a thick layer of magical armor that had no weight and let me see through as if it was clear as glass. I knew it would take ages to hack through, even with his polearm.

Green light flared and wisps of ethereal smoke drifted away as Brynn's weapon seemed to duplicate itself. A second later, the mirrored weapon was rushing toward Darius, who ignored it and kept flinging daggers at Brynn.

Darius threw so many daggers with so much speed that one finally caught Brynn in the leg, punching straight through flesh, armor, and bone to leave a gaping hole.

Brynn let out a grunt, falling to one knee. I used the opportunity to move closer, pushing spikes of earth from my mud-covered armor and swinging for him.

But I could see the wound closing itself up even as I swung for him, and right before my attack would've landed, he simply vanished.

I swung so hard I lost my balance, teetering forward, spiked fists punching into empty earth and splashing mud. To my left, Darius grunted as the ethereal weapon revealed it was actually capable of causing harm. The spear point was plunged into Darius side and he was clutching the wound and stumbling away, swearing profusely.

The vast majority of illusion classes were just that. They made illusions as a distraction. But his appeared to be some kind of summoning class.

So how the hell had he vanished?

What the fuck is he?

I felt something slam into my back hard, but my armor simply chipped away and reformed after the blow. When I turned, I saw he had somehow got himself behind me. He stabbed the long spearpoint into me, but my armor was thicker, completely protecting me from damage.

That was better. He was hard to kill, maybe, but it came at a price. He was offensively weak. And with my armor, all I'd need to do was wear him out.

I was just beginning to smile while Darius tried to jump for the ghost weapon. It dodged, flicking behind him and lashing out with the hammer end. The blow caught him between his shoulder blades and sent him falling face-first in the mud.

Brynn dodged my attacks, dancing backward, and then he raised his palm toward me.

The same liquid I'd seen sloshing in his bottle sprayed from his empty palm in a thick, rushing jet of liquid. As soon as it landed on my chest, the liquid bounced and curved around my body as if it was being guided for maximum coverage.

Gods… What is this power?

I quickly threw all my focus into calling more mud and more armor to replace what appeared to be burning away from the liquid. But the substance kept coming.

Brynn simply stood there, one hand extended as an endless flow of yellow-green acid sprayed from his hand. Small jets began bouncing from me and somehow weaving between trees directly for Darius, who was caught before he could even get back to his feet.

Darius' armor melted away in seconds and he fell screaming, stasis triggering a moment later. I watched him get yanked upward and toward the airship.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was burning through my mana at an astronomical rate to repair the damage to my elemental armor, but surely he must be too.

I kept calling more and more elements to myself, completely focused on defense as I began to run.

I hissed in pain when the liquid punched deeper, catching my arm for a moment before I could cover it with armor. I stumbled, tripped, and fell, but I didn't dare stay down or stop to look back.

Just when I was beginning to think I might escape, I saw a flash of green to my right. It was his fucking phantom polearm chasing me down. And fast.

The floating weapon burst in front of me as it swung for my shins.

I tried to jump over the blow, but the polearm caught my toes, flipping me forward as my arms pinwheeled through open air.

I landed hard on my chest, the air leaving my lungs in a rush.

Grunting and sucking air through my teeth, I tried to get to my feet, but I heard him walking up behind me.

The phantom weapon floated in front as if it was waiting. I was on one knee as I turned to look at him. He had dismissed his polearm and was only holding that potion bottle now.

In panic, I tried to summon more armor but I felt the last shreds of my mana give out and the armor fell away.

"Sorry," he said. "But at least it's only elimination for you. Not death."

"What the fuck are you?"

His only answer was to raise his palm. Acid sprayed toward me and the stasis shield flared blue, signaling my failure and my exit from the tournament.

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