The aftermath of the first round lingered in the minds of both spectators and competitors alike. What had started as a battle royale had ended in unexpected chaos, with the battlefield itself being turned into a death trap by Kalem's tactical interference. Even now, whispers ran through the crowds about what had truly happened. Some claimed it was planned, others insisted it was a fluke, but one thing was certain—the survivors were those who adapted fastest.
Now, only 60 fighters remained.
As the morning sunbathed the academy in golden light, the remaining competitors stood in the waiting grounds, the tension thick enough to choke. Unlike before, the nervous chatter had died down. The survivors knew what was at stake. They had seen what their opponents were capable of. And now, they were waiting for the next challenge.
It wasn't long before the academy's grand official, the towering archmage Valdris, took his place at the center of the gathering. He raised a hand, silencing the already-quiet crowd before his booming voice carried across the grounds.
"The second round begins tomorrow."
A ripple of movement went through the competitors—some exhaled in relief, others tensed further.
"You have proven yourselves worthy of progressing," Valdris continued, his gaze sweeping over the remaining students. "But know this: The next trial will not be so simple."
At his signal, a massive illusionary projection materialized in the air above them, showing a vast, changing battlefield. It was a far cry from the chaotic terrain of the first round—this was something far more complex.
Instead of open land, the battlefield was divided into five distinct biomes, each one hostile in its own way:
The Shadowed Forest – A place of dense, towering trees, where visibility was limited, and something always seemed to be watching from the darkness. The Frozen Wasteland – A brutal expanse of ice and jagged cliffs, where the cold itself could drain the will to fight. The Swamplands – A murky, treacherous terrain filled with deep bogs and creatures that thrived in the thick mist. The Ruined Cityscape – Crumbling structures, forgotten pathways, and high vantage points that offered strategic advantages for those quick enough to seize them. The Volcanic Expanse – A land of molten rock, where the air was thick with heat and ash.
Valdris let the image settle in their minds before delivering the true challenge.
"This will not be a mere battle between yourselves. This battlefield will not only test your combat skills but your ability to survive, to adapt, and to overcome both nature and the unknown."
The murmurs returned. Something was off.
That's when Valdris smiled.
"You will not be the only ones in this arena."
The moment he spoke, a new illusion took shape.
From the depths of the biomes, massive creatures emerged—twisted monstrosities, primal beasts, and apex predators, all of them set loose upon the battlefield.
Gasps rang out as students recognized some of them—Dire Wolves, Trolls, even Wyverns circling above the mountainous zones. These weren't just summoned familiars or basic constructs. They were real monsters, captured for this very event.
"The second round will be a battle for survival, fought not just against each other, but against the wild itself. Only those who can claim dominion over the battlefield will move forward."
The King of Monsters.
The weight of the name settled over them like a curse.
This wasn't a test of power alone. It was a test of who could reign in the chaos.
The true victors wouldn't just be those who defeated their opponents. They would be the ones who could rule the battlefield—who could outlast, outthink, and outmaneuver both their rivals and the monsters that would hunt them.
From the spectator stands above, Lyra clenched her fists as she watched the reactions unfold. She could already see it in the expressions of those around her—the dawning realization, the fear in some, the excitement in others.
She turned toward her father, Lord Mathias Evernwood, who observed everything with a knowing expression.
"This round isn't about strength alone," she murmured. "It's about control."
Her father's lips curved into a small smirk. "Exactly. And tell me, Lyra—who do you think will prove themselves worthy of that throne?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, her gaze drifted down toward the waiting ground, where Kalem stood at the very back of the group, silent and unreadable.
She didn't know why, but she had a feeling that, by the end of this round, he wouldn't just be playing the game.
He might end up rewriting the rules entirely.