[May the strongest Chosen Ones win.]
The moment those words echoed across the void, Alex and Kaelios were engulfed in a radiant blue light, particles of energy beginning to wrap around their bodies.
It signaled the start of the second round, what the Creators had dubbed the [Chosen Round].
There was no time left to prepare, no more time to talk.
The next round was beginning.
Kaelios, ever casual, gave one final shrug.
“Good luck, human. And if you fail… well, it was fun while it lasted.”
Alex smirked, not at all shaken by the looming threat.
“I won’t die,” he answered plainly, his tone resolute, “Not until I’ve killed the [God of Darkness] at least.”
That answer seemed to satisfy Kaelios, though he barely had time to respond before both of them vanished into a swirl of shining particles, scattered into the unknown.
A few seconds later, Alex landed hard.
Fwish! Bam!
His boots slammed against a metal floor as he found himself in a completely different space.
He immediately glanced around, his instincts sharp and alert.
The room he’d been teleported into resembled a containment cell, narrow and confined, with metallic blue walls and no visible furniture or technology, just a single reinforced door with a small barred slit near eye level.
It was quiet, unnervingly so, but not for long.
There were a few glowing inscriptions engraved on the wall just to his right.
He stepped closer and read them carefully:
[You are in the fifth position.]
[Until your fight arrives, feel free to observe the other ones freely. Maybe you’ll find something useful.]
Just as he finished reading, a mechanical hum filled the room.
From the ceiling, a large curved screen began descending, its size nearly matching the width of the entire cell.
The surface glowed to life, bright, sharp, and instantly focused on a massive circular arena.
It was almost identical in scale to the one used in the [Elimination Round], though this one felt more polished, futuristic.
The stadium was lined with tall white columns, sleek energy barriers, and crystalline towers that emitted faint pulses of power.
But while the arena was empty at the center, Alex could see vague figures seated across the outer bleachers, spread around the circular perimeter.
He squinted, trying to make them out through the slight haze that blurred their features.
“Huh…” he muttered under his breath.
He couldn’t identify anyone clearly, but the outlines, the postures, they were likely the gods. All of them.
They had been summoned as spectators, seated far apart from each other, each separated by thick walls of radiant energy that prevented any form of direct interaction.
That made sense. Gods were volatile.
Putting them too close together in a competitive setting would be asking for disaster.
More importantly, it hit Alex all at once, the structure, the rules, the true purpose of this trial.
His “fifth” designation meant that he would be participating in the last battle.
The other four fights would happen before him, meaning he’d have plenty of time to watch, study, and prepare.
This wasn’t just a series of duels, it was a chance to gather knowledge… or give it away.
“Until your fight arrives, feel free to observe the other ones freely…” he repeated to himself, glancing at the inscription again.
“Which means all of us get to see what the others are capable of.”
This wasn’t like the first round where chaos and unpredictability ruled.
Here, everything was deliberate. Tactical.
Every move would be scrutinized, not just by enemies, but by every other Chosen One watching from their own prison-like chambers.
That realization alone raised the difficulty of this trial to a new level.
And just as he thought that, a sharp triple chime echoed across the room.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
A new message appeared across the top of the screen, glowing in large silver letters:
[The two “Chosen Ones” labeled with the number 1 may now enter the arena and begin their match.]
[Make sure to deal with your opponent… but don’t go overboard. Revealing everything you have would be unwise.]
The moment the message disappeared, Alex heard a heavy metallic clang from just beyond his door.
He instinctively stepped closer to the slit and peered through.
What he saw confirmed his suspicions.
The hallway outside his room stretched in both directions, lined with five evenly spaced doors, five Chosen Ones, each waiting for their turn.
From the far end, a lone figure walked forward, his steps calm and deliberate.
He passed right in front of Alex’s door.
Their eyes met, crimson locking with silver for just a moment.
The man wore a dark, heavy cloak that concealed most of his features, but Alex could feel it… that pressure, that presence.
Whoever this person was, he wasn’t ordinary.
He radiated the cold intensity of someone familiar with death.
“Hmph.”
Even without seeing his face, Alex already had a guess.
Sure enough, the figure disappeared around the corner, and seconds later, the screen above lit up again, this time focused on the two entrances leading into the arena.
The first Chosen One stepped out onto the battlefield and pulled back his cloak.
His features were sharp, his hair long and white like bleached ash, and his crimson eyes glowed with an unnatural brilliance.
In one hand, he wielded a black scepter topped with a skull-shaped crystal.
The second figure emerged soon after, towering and heavily armored.
His body was wrapped in a crackling crimson aura, and two jagged horns protruded from his forehead.
His armor was blood-red and plated with spikes, and in his hand, he held a wide, brutal sword that oozed malice with every twitch.
Another set of announcements followed:
[The first fight will now start!]
[“Lich, The Chosen One of Death” will face “Asmon, The Chosen One of Hatred.”]
[Begin!]
The sound of a bell rang out, deep, echoing, final.
And just like that, the match began.
No countdown. No warning. No rules.
The battlefield was set, and the two figures stood motionless for a few seconds, observing, measuring, calculating.
Inside his room, Alex narrowed his eyes and folded his arms.
The setup for this round was even more dangerous than he had expected.
Unlike before, there was no chaos to mask abilities.
Every movement, every technique used, would be visible to not just the people outside, but to every god and every Chosen One watching.
A hidden trump card, once used, would no longer be secret.
That meant the more someone revealed in these matches, the easier it would be for others to counter them in later rounds.
And in contrast, the less someone revealed, the more uncertain and unpredictable they remained.
It made this trial far more psychological than physical.
Alex stared at the screen, his focus absolute.
The [Chosen One of Death] and [Chosen One of Hatred] were both “Chosen Ones” of the [Top 5 Gods], meaning that by the end of this fight, one of the top 5 gods would fall.
Though still, what mattered now was gathering as much information as possible, how they moved, how they opened fights, what kind of powers they relied on, how they defended, what they held back.
It was all useful.
Even the smallest detail could become the difference between life and death in his own match.
And so, the real challenge of this trial had become clear.
It wasn’t just about winning.
It was about winning without revealing too much.
And if possible… learning everything about everyone else while staying unreadable yourself.
Alex kept watching.
He wouldn’t waste this time. He would be ready.