The countdown hit zero.
The Trial Grounds convulsed violently beneath their feet.
The Lost Ones braced as the arena shattered into fragments. Pillars collapsed into molten cracks. Floating platforms twisted and spun in the burning sky. The ground itself rotated unpredictably like a fractured spiral.
[Second Wave Initiated.]
[Environmental Hazard: Unstable Terrain Activated.]
[Objective: Survive.]
Eryndor staggered as the platform beneath him jolted sideways. Cracks split the floor, jagged edges glowing ominous crimson. He lunged forward, grabbing the Mana-Cursed Girl's arm as she slipped dangerously close to the edge.
"Stay sharp."
The Unborn anchored himself by slamming heavy chains deep into the stone, unmoving even as the ground twisted violently around him. The Flickering Aura Boy stumbled, barely catching himself with a desperate push.
Eryndor's breath came sharp and fast. This wasn't combat. This was execution by design.
The sky above them flickered. From the shifting shadows, figures emerged.
House Halwen.
A full elite squad advanced across a stable platform, walking calmly through the chaos like they owned the world. Silver-blue armor gleamed under the corrupted light. Their leader, a tall spear-wielding captain, regarded The Lost Ones with cold detachment.
"You survived the first? That was the tutorial."
Eryndor said nothing. His crimson eyes narrowed, already scanning formation gaps, spell signatures, possible escape routes.
The Halwen squad fanned out with mechanical precision. Perfect positioning. Perfect confidence. Every movement designed to crush anomalies like them.
The System pulsed again.
[Combat Commencing.]
[No Quarter Given.]
The first spear shot toward Eryndor's chest like a silver blur.
The spear screamed through the air.
Eryndor barely twisted aside. The razor edge clipped his shoulder, slicing through cloth and skin. Blood trailed in the distorted light.
The Halwen squad moved as one. No wasted motion. No arrogance. Only cold, efficient violence.
"Advance. Crush them," the captain ordered.
The next barrage followed instantly. A storm of shimmering blade arcs and compressed mana bolts exploded toward The Lost Ones.
Eryndor dropped low behind a half-ruined pillar as stone shattered around him. The Unborn howled, chains whipping out to intercept multiple attackers but already straining under the precise pressure. The Mana-Cursed Girl stumbled backward as suppressive glyphs circled her, forcing her unstable aura into suffocating containment. The Flickering Aura Boy gasped as a searing blast glanced off his shoulder, burning flesh and sending him sprawling.
They were unraveling.
Eryndor exhaled slowly. The pain in his shoulder blurred at the edges of his focus. Adapt. Or die.
"Collapse their formation," he commanded. "Unborn—anchor left. Flicker—harass right. Cursed Girl—pulse only, no flare."
They obeyed instinctively. Trust had replaced hesitation.
The Unborn anchored a chain deep into cracked stone and spun outward like a living wrecking ball. The sheer force disrupted the spear captain's perfect line.
Flicker darted into the chaos, not attacking directly but slashing binding spells and forcing the squad to split attention.
The Mana-Cursed Girl trembled under the internal pressure. Her cuffs seared against her wrists. One pulse, one exact controlled blast. Not more.
She unleashed a perfect razor-thin surge. It sliced through two attackers' defenses, dropping them gasping to the ground without fatal injury.
Eryndor moved last.
Silent. Precise. He surged into the staggered line, slipping between heavy blows and spell arcs, striking vital joints and rune channels with merciless efficiency.
The Halwen formation collapsed under the unexpected chaos.
Within moments, only the spear captain remained standing. Armor scorched, expression dark with disbelief.
"You are nothing but failures. How—"
The sentence never finished. Eryndor lunged low under the wild counter-thrust and drove his blade up into the gap between armored plates. A dull crack followed.
The captain dropped heavily to his knees.
The System flared coldly.
[Second Wave Complete.]
[Observation Continuing.]
[Prepare for Final Wave.]
The Lost Ones regrouped, breathing hard. The Unborn's chains dragged behind him, dented and scorched. The Mana-Cursed Girl sagged, barely standing, hands shaking violently before she clenched them into fists. The Flickering Aura Boy limped slightly, wiping blood from his temple.
Eryndor ignored his own wound and looked up.
Above them, high on the floating balcony, the silver-haired upperclassman from House Merilith stood calmly watching. Pale emerald eyes glinted faintly in the dying light.
She smiled.
"Not bad, anomaly," she whispered. "Let's see how long you last."
The System text ignited one final time.
[Final Wave Pending.]
Eryndor stared coldly upward, expression unreadable.
"Good."