Percy stood off to the side of the arena, eyes flicking lazily across the glowing system screen hovering in front of him. Notifications blurred past—skill trees, passive updates, experience spikes, mana fluctuations.
He exhaled softly.
"Too many pop-ups. You'd think saving my life would earn a silence button."
His finger moved, dismissing screen after screen with the casual flick of someone who'd done this a thousand times.
But before he could dive into his mental archive, a sharp slap on the shoulder dragged him back to reality.
"That was incredible, Percy!"
Dalton stood beside him, grinning like someone who'd just witnessed a miracle and needed to confirm it was real.
Percy blinked once. Then twice.
A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—brief, unguarded.
"Glad someone enjoyed it."
"No, seriously," Dalton pressed, tone softening. "There's something about you."
That wiped the grin from Percy's face. He didn't flinch—he didn't have to. His expression blanked, not cold, just unreadable. A trick he'd learned from his aunt and uncle—professionals at hiding pain beneath stillness.
{Old habits. Useless… but sometimes necessary.}
He tilted his head slightly.
"Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you, Dalton Greeves."
Dalton raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
Percy's eyes didn't blink. His voice was soft—almost too quiet. Not threatening. Just unnervingly precise.
"I don't usually let people get this close. Especially not the kind that stroll in with big smiles and clean intentions."
He stepped forward—not dramatically, just enough that the space between them felt thinner.
He wasn't trying to intimidate. He was dissecting.
"You helped Angelica out of the blue. Joined our circle like you belonged. Played the humble, eager newcomer."
"People like that either want something… or they're hiding something."
Dalton's smile faded. His eyes searched Percy's—likely expecting accusation or malice. But there was neither.
Only truth.
"So, which is it?" Percy asked. "Ulterior motive or noble soul?"
Dalton looked away, turning his gaze toward the empty arena.
"And what do you know?" he said flatly.
Percy didn't press.
He didn't need to.
"Enough."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was honest.
For once, both of them stood in the absence of pretense.
Percy hummed quietly, his gaze distant as he tapped into the mental database he had begun compiling since their first meeting.
"Dalton Greeves. Eighteen. Son of Mary Anna Greeves and Drace Star. Raised in a common household. Kaito's Elementary. Jacksonville Junior High. Valedictorian at Stellar High—graduated at fourteen."
Dalton froze. Not in shock—just quiet recognition.
"Worked construction. Company managed by your late father. Condolences, by the way."
Percy's voice didn't carry malice. It was even. Controlled. Like a scalpel being guided by steady hands.
"Breadwinner by fifteen. Took over providing for your mother. Four years of labor, ridicule, threats… no one stepping in when the local gangs started circling like wolves."
Percy's eyes scanned Dalton—not just watching, but understanding.
"Then came the night everything collapsed. The attempt. The ex. The so-called rescue. Followed by David Roque sitting in your living room like he owned it."
Dalton didn't respond. He didn't have to. The way his posture stiffened said enough.
"Your mother signed the debt on your behalf. Then vanished."
Percy paused—just for a moment. Not out of empathy, but to let the truth land the way it needed to.
"You became an adventurer out of necessity, not ambition. Took every low-level quest you could find. Worked your way to D-Rank. Now you're here, standing on the edge of your Class C Trial."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I could go deeper—exes, mentors, mistakes. But I think I've made my point."
Dalton's shoulders slumped. Not in weakness, but the weight of being seen.
"And I'm guessing… you know the nature of my Ascendant Trial?"
Percy scoffed—quiet, unimpressed.
"Of course. What do you take me for?"
He stepped forward, voice low and clipped—like stone chiseled with purpose.
"The Ascendant Trial isn't a test of strength. It's a crucible. A full-body reckoning. Mind. Spirit. Soul."
"It exists to take everything you've endured—betrayal, suffering, survival—and force you to face it without excuses."
Dalton's silence was answer enough.
Percy nodded once.
"Thought so."
Dalton's fists clenched. But he didn't speak.
Percy didn't relent. His tone didn't rise—it tightened.
"Everything you've suffered brought you to this moment. And now you're standing here… not as someone trying to survive… but someone who has to decide whether he's finally ready to evolve."
Dalton's voice, though composed, held a quiet edge.
"Why do you even care?"
Percy's answer was immediate—and honest.
"I don't."
"Not about your past. Or your pain. But I care about what you are now."
"Because what you are—what you represent—is power with potential. But that doesn't mean you've earned anything."
Dalton's eyes flickered—defiance mingling with unease.
"What are you getting at?"
Percy's gaze hardened—no malice, no pity, just precision.
"I'm saying the Ascendant Trial isn't about surviving. It's about proving you're worth the next chapter of your life."
"And right now? You haven't done that yet."
Dalton's breath hitched—but only for a moment.
Then, he lifted his chin.
"I've come this far. I won't back down now."
Percy studied him in silence for half a breath.
His eyes, always observant, flickered with something unreadable—not approval, not hope—just calculation and the faintest trace of belief.
"Then prove it," Percy said quietly.
"Show me your pain meant something. That you're not just surviving, but ready to evolve."
Dalton nodded, something igniting behind his gaze.
"I will."
Percy inclined his head—not a nod, not quite approval. Just acknowledgment.
"Good. Because the trial doesn't care about how far you've come. It only asks one question: are you enough?"
Dalton's jaw tensed, but he held his ground.
"I understand."
Percy stepped back, cloak shifting with his movement. His body was composed, but his thoughts swirled beneath the surface.
He's not ready. Not yet. But maybe… he will be.
Then Helen's voice rang out, crystal clear:
"Ladies and gentlemen, our next battle features Dalton Greeves and Soo-min Hwarangdo. Let the match begin!"
Dalton's eyes darted to Helen, then back to Percy. There was frustration in his expression—the kind that came from things left unsaid.
Percy remained still. Impassive. His mask perfectly in place.
But then—softly, low enough that only Dalton could hear—
"You should know… I do believe in you. Even if I can't bring myself to trust you yet."
Dalton met his gaze, tension lingering in his shoulders.
"Then I'll be ready when that day comes."
Percy gave him one last look—sharp, unreadable—before turning his back and shifting his focus to the match.
Dalton stepped into the arena.
But he could still feel Percy's words behind him.
Not a challenge. Not a warning.
A promise.
Dalton Greeves, a 4th circle mage, took his place with measured steps. His aura pulsed with power, and in his hand, he wielded a glistening silver snake rapier—its coiled length shimmering with a symbol of flame on its forehead, and black gem-like eyes set in the hilt.
Behind that blade—Darkness. Light. Fire. Metal.
His domain.
Across from him, Soo-min Hwarangdo stood poised, her stance balanced between air and earth. The Adaptive Energy Flow Technique radiated from her—every breath perfectly in sync with the environment. Her eyes were calm, unblinking, focused.
She exhaled slowly.
She was ready.
Dalton didn't hesitate.
"Flaming Strike!"
His blade ignited in a crimson blaze, cutting through the air like a serpent made of fire.
Soo-min's body moved with the grace of a current—Flowing River Evasion. Her steps danced around the arc of fire.
"You're quick," she said coolly, "but not quick enough."
She struck forward with Iron Fist Cascade, her fists hammering toward Dalton's guard like falling boulders.
Dalton spun, deflecting with his blade, which shimmered with metallic light.
"Iron Wall Defense," he muttered.
Her strikes were absorbed by the hardened enchantment as his rapier shimmered.
He stepped forward, voice low and precise.
"You've got form. But can you adapt?"
He raised his hand.
"Shadow Pulse."
From his palm, dark tendrils burst outward, coiling like snakes, aiming to snare Soo-min where she stood.
Soo-min felt the dark tendrils closing in, but her expression remained composed. She centered herself, her breathing shifting seamlessly between rhythms—fire, water, wind, earth, metal.
Her voice rang out.
"Elemental Cycle Breathing!"
A ripple of energy surged through her aura. She stepped forward—Blazing Palm Inferno igniting in her hands. Each strike mimicked fire, erupting in controlled bursts of heat and pressure.
Dalton moved in step, his rapier shimmering with radiant energy.
"You adapt well, Soo-min."
His tone wasn't mocking—it carried genuine respect.
"But can you handle this?"
He summoned a barrier of pure light, refracting into a flash so bright that it temporarily blinded her.
Soo-min grit her teeth, forcing her body to move even as her vision fought to return.
"Your tricks won't work on me."
She surged forward again, this time flowing into Willow Branch Whirl—her strikes fluid, shifting from angle to angle, designed to overwhelm.
Dalton's defenses held—but barely.
Her rhythm was unpredictable. Her breathing flawless.
{She's reading me. Adapting faster than I expected.}
"You're impressive, Soo-min," he said between parries.
"But I'm not finished."
His rapier pulsed as he channeled Metal, the blade now glowing with hardened sheen.
"Metallic Fury."
He advanced with powerful, unrelenting strikes—his blade hammering down like forged steel. Soo-min dropped into Mountain Stance Resolve, rooting herself like bedrock.
"Bring it on."
Their clash rang through the arena, the sound of fists meeting steel reverberating like thunder.
Dalton pressed harder, each strike a test of strength and precision.
"You can't keep this up forever," he warned.
He launched into a flurry—each strike laced with elemental energy, hammering at her guard from every direction.
Soo-min's breath faltered.
But she refused to yield.
"Adaptive Energy Flow!"
Her movements became sharper, more refined—the perfect synthesis of all elemental breathing styles.
She lunged, unleashing her final move:
Iron Fist Cascade.
Dalton's eyes narrowed.
He stepped back—only for a moment—and slashed forward.
"Light Burst."
A sudden flare exploded from his blade, blinding white light consuming the space between them.
Soo-min staggered, off-balance.
"Shadow Strike!"
Dalton's blade shimmered black as it moved with surgical precision—cutting through her defenses.
Soo-min dropped to one knee, breath ragged, arms trembling.
"You... you win," she said quietly.
"Your power is incredible."
Dalton, still catching his breath, lowered his sword and extended a hand.
"You fought well. You're not just fast—you're smart."
Helen's voice echoed across the arena.
"Victory to Dalton Greeves!"
The crowd erupted, their cheers rising like a tidal wave of approval.
Soo-min clasped his hand and rose.
"Thank you. But this isn't over. I'll come back stronger."
Dalton gave a quiet nod, something soft behind his otherwise weary expression.
"I'll be ready."
They walked off the stage—not as enemies, but as warriors who had truly tested each other.
Dalton approached the edge of the arena, his movements slower now, the toll of the fight evident.
Percy stood waiting, arms crossed. His gaze was unreadable, but his posture had shifted. The usual aloofness was still there—but softened.
"You held your own," Percy said, his voice steady but not cold.
A pause.
Then, something unexpected:
"Keep improving. I'd hate for our match to be predictable."
Dalton blinked, surprised at the lack of sarcasm. It wasn't exactly praise—but it was as close as Percy ever got.
Something like pride bloomed in Dalton's chest.
And for the first time, it didn't feel like he had to fight alone.
To Dalton's quiet surprise, Percy stepped forward—his expression unreadable but no longer cold. He placed a hand on Dalton's shoulder.
"You came to me with a motive," Percy said, tone calm and sincere.
"But… I like your aura. There's something steady in it. Unpolished, but honest."
Dalton blinked, caught off guard.
"Thank you, Percy. That… means a lot."
Percy gave a rare, subtle smile—barely there, but unmistakably real.
"Let's call it even. Past misunderstandings, suspicions—leave them where they belong. Starting fresh sounds… useful."
Dalton's expression softened, something in his chest relaxing.
"I'd like that. A lot."
Percy withdrew his hand, nodding once.
"Good. Then let's get stronger together. You have things I don't—and I know more than you think."
Dalton chuckled, grateful and grounded.
"Agreed. I look forward to it."
As they walked side by side, the tension of earlier moments melted away, replaced by something unfamiliar—a sense of ease. No longer on guard. No longer opponents. Allies, for now.
Dalton glanced at him, a bemused look crossing his face.
"When did you even have time to dig up my entire life story?"
Percy gave a low chuckle—genuine, almost light.
"You'd be surprised what boredom and an unrestricted network can do for someone with my patience."
Dalton raised a brow. "Seriously though. You even knew stuff I forgot."
Percy shrugged with a touch of casual mischief.
"I like knowing who I'm dealing with. It's not paranoia—it's preparation."
Dalton rolled his eyes.
"Next time, maybe just ask. Y'know—like a normal person."
Percy grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"
Dalton chuckled, the last of the day's tension bleeding off into the night air.
"Alright, alright. But no more creepy background checks, yeah?"
Percy raised both hands in mock surrender.
"Cross my heart. No more digging… unless I get really bored."
They kept walking, the quiet between them no longer distant—just comfortable.
Despite everything that loomed ahead, the unspoken truth lingered between them:
They wouldn't be facing it alone.