“I can’t be too safe.”
Malakai looked at the bright light cautiously. He had no idea how far the ground was from the exit of the hole, and he wasn’t about to test it with his life.
Reaching for his utility belt, he pulled out a thin wire and tied it around one of the daggers, then anchored it deep into the wall.
Wrapping the wire around his arm, he lowered himself carefully. As he crossed it, the light blinded him for a moment. Then…
His feet touched solid ground.
As Malakai’s eyes opened, he narrowed them instantly.
‘As expected.’
Malakai had come prepared for the worst, and he got exactly that.
His guard rose to its highest peak as he scanned his surroundings.
It was another large hall, though it was smaller than the one where he’d fought Kendal and Jerom earlier.
But this one had nothing. There was no altar, no markings, just massive stone pillars lining the room.
But Malakai wasn’t looking at the hall.
His eyes were locked on the four figures standing at each corner of the room, each one trapped inside a transparent container, just like the one he stood in.
‘Two Sanguine. One Durandal. One Aurelius.’ He identified them immediately.
Besides him, four others had made it here.
The first two were from his clan, although a different generation, the Sanguine.
The third was a Durandal. They were also one of the grand clans of the dome, known for their bone manipulation. Their strength and power had earned them the title of overlords in the dome, just like the Sanguine.
And the last was the Aurelius. Instead, they were a great clan from the west, under the Sanguine’s domain. Their abilities were centered on lung control, using their breath to amplify their physical prowess.
But Malakai wasn’t the only one observing.
He could feel the probing gazes of the others, each one cutting and cold. But one in particular made his spine tingle.
His eyes soon locked with one of the Sanguine standing at the far end of the hall.
‘It’s him.’
The same Sanguine he’d encountered in the clearing, the one who had nearly gotten him killed.
‘Zeronis.’
The youth’s icy stare bore into him. Malakai didn’t doubt for a second that he’d killed his own teammates without hesitation.
Not that Malakai could complain.
“Third Vein!”
“Third Vein!”
Malakai turned toward the voices. The other Sanguine was calling out to Zeronis. But not just him, the Aurelius had also bowed his head in respect.
The second Sanguine’s voice sounded relieved as he greeted Zeronis.
“Gruden,” Zeronis acknowledged with a curt nod, his expression unchanged. He clearly didn’t share the sentiment.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” Gruden added with a respectful tilt of his head.
Zeronis nodded again. “Likewise.”
“Do you know what this is, Third Vein?”
Zeronis’ gaze didn’t change.
“No. But it’s likely we’ll be pitted against one another soon.”
The tension in the hall spiked. Eyes narrowed. Malakai’s included. To think he would state it so bluntly…
Then Zeronis continued, his tone glacial,
“Listen, Gruden.”
“Yes, Third Vein.”
Zeronis raised his hand slowly, suddenly pointing at Malakai.
“Once we’re out of these containers, I want you to target that one.”
Malakai’s expression shifted slightly.
“He’s too suspicious,” Zeronis went on with a sharp voice.
“I don’t recall him among the Sanguine who entered the pit with us. His weapons are foreign. His presence is unaccounted for. In a situation like this, we can’t afford unknown variables. He’s an anomaly. And as such, should be contained and interrogated.”
Then, Zeronis turned to the Durandal descendant, who was watching him intently.
“You can leave him to me.”
It was expected that the Aurelius youth would fall into place, as their clan was subordinate to the Sanguine clan.
That left only the Durandal, the other grand clan descendant, as the true obstacle.
Gruden bowed. “As you wish, Third Vein.”
Then he turned to Malakai, and though he said nothing, his intense eyes said it all.
He was coming.
‘Shit. This is bad.’ An intense frown appeared on Malakai’s face.
This wasn’t good. Not even close.
He was surrounded by evolved humans, elites that had been trained from their childhood in brutal environments, raised by even more brutal clans.
The last thing he needed was to stand out, but he had already failed at that.
Now he had a target on his back.
Bad news. It was all bad news.
‘I have to prepare.’ His thoughts snapped into focus and his body stiffened.
They were still sealed inside the transparent containers, and he didn’t know for how long. He had seconds, maybe less, to ready himself.
Unfortunately for him, he didn’t even get one.
A voice shattered his thoughts.
“The finalists are now complete.”
It echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once, calm.
“Welcome to the final stage of the Successor Trials. I applaud your grit and resolve, it is truly commendable. But unfortunately, your trial is not over. You will be tested once again. And this time… only one may remain.”
A pause.
“You may use whatever means you possess. Survive, and even the peak will await you.”
As the voice stopped, there was silence. Until…
Creak…
The containers began to open, groaning slowly. Each stretch of the glass sounded like a bowstring drawn to its limit, tense, unbearable.
Hsk!
Malakai yanked the scythe from his back in one fluid motion and turned sharply toward Gruden. He dropped into a stance, every sense braced for combat. His eyes sharpened.
The containers finally hissed fully open.
For a moment, there was nothing but stillness. Then…
Shhhkt!
Blades were unsheathed.
The silence broke.
“Bloodflow.”
The word rang from two directions.
Zeronis.
Gruden.
All at once, their bodies trembled.
The whites of their eyes flushed to crimson.
Blood-red veins surged across their faces, crawling like tendrils beneath their skin.
Their temples bulged. Their veins throbbed at the neck, arms, and hands.
And then their expressions twisted, turning feral.
They no longer appeared human.
They blurred forward in unison, the floor cracking beneath their feet from the sheer force of their acceleration.