As soon as the second round began, the battlefield descended into madness.
The moment the signal was given, the Hunters charged forward, weapons drawn, eyes gleaming with the thrill of combat. They had no hesitation—everything was prey. Monsters, competitors, the land itself—nothing was off-limits. Some of them, clad in thick armor, relished in direct combat, wading through creatures and challengers alike with brutal efficiency. Others, quicker and lighter on their feet, darted across the field, cutting down whatever they could before disappearing into the changing landscapes.
Then there were the Opportunists—a different breed entirely. They did not rush in like their more aggressive counterparts. Instead, they watched. They waited. Some perched atop the ruins, studying the flow of battle, identifying the strongest and the weakest. Others slinked into the shadows of the forest biome, letting nature conceal them as they observed, analyzed, and planned. They knew this wasn't about raw strength. It was about timing.
And finally, the Survivors—the ones who understood that this wasn't a battle to be won but a trial to endure. They fortified positions, using the land itself as a shield. Some climbed high places, avoiding battle altogether. Others set traps, creating layers of defense rather than engaging in reckless fights. Victory meant nothing if you didn't last long enough to claim it.
And then, there was Kalem.
Unlike the others, he did not rush forward with reckless abandon. He did not wait in the shadows. He did not build walls to hide behind.
Instead, he walked.
Dragging his heavy metal crate behind him, the dull scraping sound of metal against rock followed his every step. He moved with purpose, his eyes scanning the landscape for something—something to test his weapons on.
The Battlefield Breathes
Unlike the first round, where the terrain shifted under their feet, this time the battlefield was alive—each biome presenting its own dangers.
In the Shadowed Forest, thick mists curled around the trees, making visibility a nightmare. Strange, glowing eyes flickered in the darkness, followed by the guttural growls of unseen beasts. The very air seemed to hum with unnatural energy, making magic unstable and unpredictable.
The Frozen Wasteland was a test of endurance. The cold bit into exposed skin, numbing fingers and slowing reflexes. Ice-coated the battlefield, making movement treacherous. Already, a few competitors had fallen—not to battle, but to the unforgiving temperature, their bodies shivering uncontrollably as they struggled to stay upright.
The Swamplands were deceptively quiet—until something moved beneath the surface. Thick, muddy waters hid horrors lurking below. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of decay. And then, the first scream rang out as something dragged a competitor down into the murky depths.
The Ruined Cityscape was a battleground of tactics. The high ground was the most valuable asset, but reaching it required skill. Every corner could hide an ambush, every shadow could mask a waiting blade. Some competitors already fought over vantage points, scaling broken towers and collapsing buildings, using the ruins as both weapons and shields.
And then, there was the Volcanic Expanse—a place where the ground itself was an enemy. Cracks of molten lava cut through the terrain, forcing fighters to be careful with every step. The heat was suffocating, draining stamina faster than any battle could.
This was not just a tournament.
This was survival.
Lyra Watches From Above
High above, seated in the nobility section, Lyra Evernwood leaned forward, watching the shifting illusionary projection with keen interest.
Her father, Lord Mathias Evernwood, had been content to observe in silence, sipping from a fine silver goblet as if this were nothing more than a theatrical performance. But Lyra could see the weight of the moment.
"Look at them," one noble muttered nearby. "Like animals thrown into a pit."
"That's exactly what they are," another laughed. "Only the strongest will crawl out."
Lyra's fingers curled slightly at that.
Strength wasn't just raw power. Strength was intelligence. Precision. Strategy.
Her gaze swept over the competitors until she found him—Kalem, walking through the battlefield, dragging his crate like some kind of traveling merchant.
What are you doing, you fool?
Others were running, dodging, fighting for their lives. Yet there he was, moving at his own pace, as if he were on a leisurely stroll.
"Curious one, that student," someone nearby murmured, their gaze also locked onto Kalem.
Lyra glanced at them—a woman clad in deep blue robes, her expression sharp and knowing. A guild master, perhaps? A high-ranking enchanter? Whoever she was, she had taken interest.
"He's testing something," the woman mused. "Not reacting. Not retreating. Waiting."
Lyra's lips pressed into a thin line.
She didn't like it.
Because she knew Kalem well enough to understand—when he waits, he's planning something.
And when he plans something, it usually means trouble.
Kalem Finds His Target
The battlefield around him raged—competitors clashed, monsters roared, the land itself shifted under the weight of the chaos.
But Kalem ignored it.
He was looking for something specific.
Then—he saw it.
A Chimera.
The beast prowled through the edge of the Ruined Cityscape, massive in size, its three heads moving independently as it searched for prey. The lion's maw snarled, the serpent tail hissed, and the goat's eyes gleamed with unnatural hunger.
Kalem smirked.
Perfect.
He reached down, flipping open the metal crate.
Inside, neatly arranged, were weapons. Not just swords or spears—prototypes.
Some hummed with contained energy. Others rattled with barely restrained force. Enchantments pulsed through the steel, flickering with experimental sigils, each one a dangerous gamble.
He reached in, pulling out the first one.
A spear—one lined with intricate energy channels.
Kalem exhaled, gripping it tightly.
The Chimera turned.
Its three heads locked onto him.
The lion growled. The snake hissed. The goat's mouth curled into something almost like a grin.
Then, it charged.
Kalem smiled.
"Alright then. Let's see what you're made of."
And with that, he hurled himself into the fight.