The night was unnaturally still when Seo Jun arrived at the arena.
Not an arena in the traditional sense. No cheering crowds, no lights blaring, no banners waving. Instead, it was a warehouse, huge, abandoned, its walls scarred by rust and graffiti, echoing with the distant drip of water. Every step Seo Jun took sounded louder than it should, reverberating off the concrete like a warning.
Tae Seong led him without a word. He didn't glance back, didn't offer comfort. Each of his movements was precise, controlled, and demanding, silently reminding Seo Jun that hesitation would be fatal.
Inside, the air smelled of metal, mold, and something else,faintly bitter, like dried blood.
Seven figures waited at the far end, illuminated by flickering torchlight: the elders of the assassin council. Their eyes swept over him with the weight of centuries, calculating, analyzing.
Han Min Jae stepped forward first, hands clasped behind his back. His gaze was cold, sharp, and intelligent.
"Seo Jun," Min Jae said, voice calm but heavy, "you have been protected until now. But the protection ends here. What begins is a test of survival, instinct, and legacy. Fail, and the world will treat you as any other blooded heir: expendable."
Seo Jun swallowed. The words carried more meaning than fear. They were confirmation. The Trials were real. The danger was real. And the underworld's eyes were on him.
Tae Seong placed a hand on Seo Jun's shoulder. "Observe first," he whispered, "react second. Kill last. Always last."
Seo Jun nodded.
The first Trial was deceptively simple or at least, it seemed so.
A corridor stretched before him, dimly lit, shadows twisting along the walls. At the far end, the sound of movement,subtle, calculated, almost imperceptible. A single opponent awaited him. Someone like him: young, trained, ambitious. Someone who had been preparing, waiting, hoping to prove themselves.
The challenge was not just to fight. It was to survive while analyzing the environment, the opponent, and his own instincts simultaneously. Every step, every hesitation, every breath could tip the balance toward life or death.
Seo Jun gripped the knife Tae Seong had given him. Its weight felt heavier than before, as though it carried the scrutiny of the council and the expectations of generations past. He exhaled, steadying himself.
And then the opponent moved.
A flash of motion, fast and fluid. The blade swung toward him, precise, testing his reactions. Seo Jun barely blocked it, sparks flying as metal collided. His body moved before thought could form a roll, a pivot, a counter-strike.
The opponent was relentless, their attacks probing for weakness, forcing Seo Jun to adapt, anticipate, survive. Each strike and block was more than a test of reflex; it was a dialogue. Movement against movement, intent against intent, history against the present.
Tae Seong watched silently from the shadows, a master observing a fledgling. He did not intervene. He only allowed Seo Jun to discover, to struggle, to awaken what had been dormant for generations.
Minutes or hours, it was impossible to tell passed. Sweat ran down Seo Jun's face, muscles burned, lungs screamed. And yet, he felt something growing inside: a rhythm, a pulse, a connection to the instincts that were his birthright.
Every movement of his opponent mirrored memories he did not know he had. The footwork, the precision, the anticipation it was familiar, as though Muk Hyun himself had passed his knowledge into Seo Jun's veins.
He blocked, struck, twisted, and dodged. The corridor became a blur, the sound of metal on metal echoing like thunder. Yet he moved with calm, a strange calm that had nothing to do with fear or confidence. It was instinct.
And for the first time, he realized: the Trials were not about winning. They were about awakening.
The opponent paused, eyes widening slightly, recognition flashing across their face. Seo Jun saw it too: instinct, skill, and lineage measured against lineage. Both of them, heirs of deadly legacies, standing at the edge of awakening.
Min Jae's voice echoed from the hall: "Enough."
The opponent stepped back, lowering their blade in respect. Seo Jun barely had the strength to stand, chest heaving, vision blurred with sweat and adrenaline. But he remained aware alive, alert, unbroken.
Tae Seong stepped forward, finally approaching his son. "You survived the first trial," he said quietly, pride and warning mingling in his tone. "Barely. But survival is all that matters at the start."
Seo Jun lowered his knife slowly, feeling every ounce of exhaustion, every heartbeat, every bruise. He had not won. He had not dominated. But he had survived. And survival, as his father had taught him, was everything.
Later, Seo Jun sat alone, examining the cuts along his forearm. The metallic tang of adrenaline still lingered in his mouth. He thought about his opponent who they were, what they represented, and how much they reminded him of himself. The Trials were not merely physical. They were psychological, a mirror to his fears, weaknesses, and hidden instincts.
And somewhere, in the shadows, he could feel the underworld stirring. Agents, killers, watchers they were all aware of him now. Muk Hyun's blood had awakened, and the world had begun to respond.
Seo Jun clenched his fist. The knife in his hand felt lighter now, almost like an extension of his body. His muscles burned, but his mind was sharper than ever. Every mistake, every bruise, every small victory had shaped him.
He could feel it the awakening, slow and deliberate, like a predator rising from its lair. He was no longer merely a student of survival. He was becoming something else. Something dangerous.
And the Trials had only just begun.
That night, Tae Seong didn't speak. He didn't need to. His silence was instruction, guidance, and warning all at once. Seo Jun could feel it in every motion, every glance, every breath: the world would demand more of him. More than training. More than preparation. More than instinct.
The Trials were a crucible. They would burn away weakness, reveal true capability, and test the very blood flowing through his veins.
Seo Jun sheathed the knife carefully. His body ached, but his mind was awake in a way it never had been. He knew that the next stage would be more demanding, more brutal, and less forgiving.
Outside, the city slept unaware. But Seo Jun no longer belonged to its ordinary life. He belonged to the legacy he carried, to the Trials he had entered, and to the awakening that Muk Hyun's blood demanded.
And when the next trial came, he would be ready or die trying.