(Avril's POV)
Avril slowly walked to the bead. A quiet tension settled in her chest as she wondered if it was the same as the spirit test they had taken before being accepted into the academy. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on the smooth surface.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the bead flared brightly.
Blue light flooded the testing area.
"Blue…" Avril murmured, her brows knitting together. What does it mean? There were no records on the color blue. Every known result had always fallen within the established spectrum.
A faint unease crept into her heart.
As Avril stood there, lost in thought, voices echoed from somewhere unseen—observers hidden beyond the field, their tones layered with curiosity and restraint.
Potential: 'Whew… at least this one is normal,' the voice muttered before pausing.
"…But she does have good talent."
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(Leo's POV)
Leo was already walking across the narrow bridge, each step steady as he moved toward the next pillar. The moment his foot touched the stone, the scenery warped—space folding in on itself like a curtain being drawn aside.
When his vision cleared, Leo froze.
Before him stood a massive coliseum.
Tier upon tier of towering stone seats curved upward into the sky, so vast they vanished into shadow. The arena floor stretched endlessly, its surface etched with ancient markings worn smooth by time and battle.
"Huh?" Leo muttered, turning slowly as he took it all in. "Why is there a coliseum here?"
{Who knows? Maybe that's where the test on this pillar will be held.} Primo speculated.
Leo clicked his tongue softly. "Well… that makes sense."
He took another step forward—and felt it.
A sudden tightness in his chest.
His skin prickled.
The air felt heavier, thicker, like it was pressing down on him.
"But why do I suddenly feel so tense?" he muttered, fists clenching without him realizing.
A low chuckle echoed in his mind.
{Hehehe… why? Getting cold feet already?}
Primo's amusement could be heard in his tone .
Leo exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he stared into the heart of the coliseum. Whatever test awaited him here… it clearly wasn't going to be simple.
Leo's eyes narrowed.
At the center of the arena stood a dark figure—humanoid, yet strangely distorted. Its features were blurred, as if shadows themselves clung to its form, refusing to let him see its face clearly.
The shadow, a clone of the Skill apparition, was his opponent for this trial and it's power level is restricted to his thoug he doesn't know that.
He couldn't tell whether it was watching him… or waiting for him.
Carefully, Leo stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the arena floor. The moment his foot crossed onto the sand, the figure moved.
It turned.
That single motion sent a chill racing down Leo's spine.
The figure lifted one hand—and in a blink, a sword materialized in its grip, forged from pure darkness.
Almost instantly, Leo felt a sudden weight in his own hands.
"What the—where did this—"
His thoughts cut off mid-sentence.
Danger.
Every instinct he had screamed at once.
The dark figure vanished from where it stood, reappearing in front of him in a blur of motion, sword already descending in a lethal arc.
Clang!
Leo barely had time to react. He raised his weapon on pure reflex, steel meeting shadow in a violent clash. The impact sent a shock through his arms, his feet skidding backward across the arena floor.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
He came to a halt, boots digging deep into the sand, chest heaving.
Leo stared at the figure, eyes wide—not with fear, but disbelief.
"…That was close."
The dark figure straightened slowly, blade humming with lethal intent.
The real test had begun.
The figure gave him no room to breathe.
It slashed relentlessly, each strike precise and merciless. Leo barely managed to keep up, his body moving on instinct, honed by a year of relentless practice. Steel rang again and again as sparks flew with every desperate block.
One strike came too fast.
The blade whistled toward his head, close enough that Leo felt death brush past him. He leaned backward just in time, the sword slicing through empty air—taking only a few loose strands of his hair as its prize.
His heart pounded violently.
That was too close.
Leo's eyes hardened.
"I can't remain on the defensive side…..I need to start attacking" he muttered.
He surged forward, abandoning solely defending . His feet dug into the arena floor as he closed the distance, launching a flurry of strikes. His blade met the figure's again and again, each clash heavier than the last. Step by step, he forced the dark figure backward.
For the first time, the figure paused.
Then—its sword dissolved.
In its place, a dagger formed.
At the same instant, Leo felt the weight in his hand shift. His sword shrank and reshaped itself into a dagger as well.
"…Figures," Leo breathed.
The duel intensified.
They closed in, blades flashing at point-blank range. Steel kissed shadow in rapid succession, strikes too fast for the eye to follow. Then the weapons changed again.
Maces formed—heavy, brutal.
Halberds followed—long-reaching and deadly.
Shurikens burst into existence mid-motion, forcing Leo to twist and dodge as they screamed past his face.
Even guns were not spared.
The crack of gunfire echoed through the coliseum as both combatants moved in a blur, firing, dodging, reloading without thought. Each shift forced Leo to adapt instantly, his muscles screaming as the pace refused to slow.
Weapon after weapon.
Style after style.
There was no pattern.
No mercy.
Only combat.
Sweat dripped down Leo's brow as his breathing grew ragged—but his eyes burned brighter than ever.
So this is the test…
'The test is not only testing my skills but also my ability to adapt to any situation.'
Leo realized as his face turned grimer.
{Yes that seems to be the case}
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Leo was breathless, sweat stinging his eyes, a spear gripped tightly in his hands. He had just faced off against the figure in a whirlwind of thrusts and parries. But in an instant, the spear vanished, leaving his hands empty and his mind reeling.
What…?
Before he could fully process it, the figure lunged again, faster than before. Leo barely managed to shift his weight, the momentum forcing him into hand-to-hand combat. Fists collided with fists, elbows met shoulders, and the arena echoed with the sounds of impact.
For a moment, Leo held his ground, matching the figure blow for blow, relying purely on instinct and the muscle memory of years of training.
Then, as if fueled by some unseen surge, the figure's strikes intensified, each one carrying the weight of an unseen explosion. A brutal combination caught Leo off guard. A final, devastating kick smashed into his chest with unstoppable force, and the world blurred around him as he was hurled out of the coliseum.
He tumbled through the air, wind tearing at his clothes, the roar of the impact ringing in his ears. Pain shot through his body as he slammed onto the ground beyond the arena.