The next man stepped forward. Battle-ready, but more cautious than the last. Was the first defeat a fluke? A trick? He advanced slowly, shield raised, waiting for Josh to make the first mistake.

  Josh didn’t bother adopting a stance.

  With a single long step, he feinted toward the fighter’s open side. The man snapped his shield toward the motion—too late. Josh had already vanished behind the blind spot of the shield. A sweep to the ankle, a thud of impact, and the man hit the ground. The last thing he saw was Josh’s fist flashing down like a hammer.

  The fight lasted ten seconds.

  A tremor passed through the remaining contestants. This wasn’t showboating. This was the strength of someone who had fought beside the guild master himself. Nothing ordinary about him.

  Five more stepped forward, and five more fell—each fight under twenty seconds.

  Then an older veteran approached. Hardened leather gear, simple sword, steady breathing. Even the onlookers straightened—this one carried himself differently.

  “I’m honored to fight the legendary Falcon,” the veteran said with a respectful bow.

  Josh gave only a curt nod. “Let’s see those honed skills, then.”

  The arena fell silent.

  The veteran raised his sword diagonally, the hilt up high—half shield, half spear tip—protective but with a wide field of view. Josh circled, the veteran matched him step for step, reading him carefully.

  Josh sprang forward. A wide horizontal arc of the veteran’s blade forced him to retreat. Josh loosened his shoulders, bouncing lightly on his feet. In the blink of an eye, he leapt again.

  The veteran slashed the same horizontal arc—but Josh bent backward, spine bending like a drawn bow, the blade passing inches above him. As it completed its swing, Josh snapped forward, kicking the veteran’s dominant hand mid-motion and using the momentum to whip the same leg into the veteran’s face.

  The man collapsed, vision blurring—just in time to see Josh’s fist descending.

  It had lasted forty seconds. The longest so far. The others applauded, and the veteran left the arena with a faint, proud smirk.

  Josh stepped aside for the thirty-minute break, eight men down already.

  Across the courtyard, Haunt’s exam continued. The man was taking hits deliberately—gauntlets raised, broad grin on his face. The examinee’s blows weakened, beaten out of him by Haunt’s sheer presence. Finally, Haunt switched roles and launched the fighter several feet back with a single punch.

  “That’s Bull,” someone muttered beside Jason.

  Jason turned. It was the veteran who had just fought Falcon. His eye was swollen, but his voice calm.

  “You know them?” Jason asked.

  “Older mercs like me remember their prime. They were the Beasts—Falcon, Bull, Viper… and their leader, Lion. Legends. They won the Battle for a Thousand Stars. Two noble houses waged a war over a star system. The nobles were losing, so they hired mercenaries. These mercenaries. They turned the tide, earned a fortune, and bought the rights to form this guild. Haven’t used their mansions much since.”

  Jason listened, breath held in awe.

  Cheers erupted from Haunt’s arena.

  Jason turned—and his heart jolted.

  A towering blue alien stepped in, dropping his spear and rolling his shoulders.

  Tahuuk.

  Hault grinned wide, baring teeth. “Thought you’d like a full brawl. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

  Tahuuk’s grin was just as wild. “I’ve been itching to go full out again!”

  Jason felt a strange déjà vu.

  It’s like looking in a mirror for Tahuuk… two fighters who understand each other without words.

  They didn’t bother with strategy.

  They charged.

  And when their fists met, the sound cracked through the arena like stone colliding with stone—a titan’s greeting. A shockwave of force rolled through the smaller examinees, rattling armor and bones. Punch answered punch. Blood sprayed in red and dark blue. Their grins widened with every strike.

  This wasn’t a fight.

  This was two mountains testing each other’s roots.

  Their rhythm increased, faster, fiercer—punches echoing like drums of war. Finally, they locked hands, muscles bulging, trying to shove the other out of the ring. Neither budged. The ground beneath their feet groaned with the strain of two monsters deadlocked.

  After five brutal minutes, Josh appeared at the edge of the arena.

  “You still have others to test. End it.”

  Hault sighed in disappointment. “You’re right…”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He released the lock and slapped Tahuuk on the shoulder. “We need to do that again sometime!”

  Tahuuk nodded eagerly as he left the ring. His group stared at him with a blend of admiration and fear.

  Josh rolled up his sleeves again.

  “Alright. Let’s continue.”

  An uneasy chill swept through the remaining examinees; several had to breathe deeply before they dared step back toward the arena.

  Jason saw their fear—but didn’t feel it quite the same way. What he felt was sadness.

  Back in the spaceport arena, stepping forward meant gambling with your life. Here? You walked away with bruises. Maybe a broken rib. You walked away.

  A reminder of how thin the thread between life and death could be—and how mercifully thick it could feel in a place like this.

  The next examinees stepped onto the chopping block one after another. None lasted long.

  A few managed to stand a little longer through sheer endurance, earning murmurs of respect, but most fell quickly under Josh’s precise, punishing strikes.

  “Next!” Josh barked.

  Jason’s turn.

  His chest tightened immediately. He’d rehearsed the truth in his mind a dozen times: This isn’t the spaceport. You won’t die here.

  But his body didn’t believe him. A cold sweat broke across his skin. His breath came short and uneven.

  It wasn’t only the arena itself—it was everything that followed it. Every memory. Every consequence.

  The stakes weren't the same here, but his nerves insisted they were.

  He stepped into the arena.

  He forced himself to breathe. Slow, steady.

  But the moment he looked at Josh standing across from him, boredom clear on the man’s face, something twisted inside Jason. Josh saw him as someone inexperienced, disposable—someone to crush quickly and move on from.

  Josh lunged. His left foot left the ground. His body curved, ready to strike.

  The attack happened in a blink to everyone else.

  But not to Jason.

  The world thinned. His pulse pounded, yes—but it steadied.

  His breath found rhythm.

  His thoughts sharpened.

  The flutter of Josh’s sleeves slowed in the air.

  Hyperfocus.

  He had felt this once before—on the day he parried the White Iris knight.

  Jason dipped his head by a hair’s breadth, the kick sweeping over him.

  Josh’s face shifted—surprise, quickly hidden.

  The foot slammed down, and Josh spun into a reverse kick. Jason saw it again as if in slow motion and slipped beneath it. As the heel passed overhead, Jason swung upward, testing Josh’s guard.

  Josh darted back—barely avoiding the strike this time.

  A grin tugged at the corner of Josh’s mouth.

  “Seems we’ve got a challenge,” he muttered.

  Jason exhaled heavily. The brief hyperfocus had burned a chunk of his stamina. The world snapped back into normal speed. His heart hammered hard.

  He replayed the sensation in his mind.

  The calm.

  The breath.

  The instinct.

  Could he recreate it?

  Josh waited longer now, cautious. He’d underestimated Jason before—he wouldn’t do it twice.

  Jason placed a hand against his chest.

  His heartbeat thudded with the heavy rhythm of a war drum. The rhythm of a forge making a weapon ready for war.

  He inhaled. Slow. Deep.

  Again.

  The edges of the world softened. Faded.

  Only his opponent remained.

  Jason dashed in, sword reversed behind him. Josh prepared to counter, shifting weight—and in that moment, Jason found his opening.

  He slashed upward with fierce precision.

  Josh sensed something familiar—

  That old battlefield shift.

  Predator becoming prey.

  He stepped aside in a flash and countered with a spinning kick, faster and stronger than before.

  Jason’s instincts screamed. He ducked so low the heel skimmed the air above him.

  Momentum carried him into a roll, and he rose immediately into a guard stance—

  But Josh was already there, spear-like forearm aimed for Jason’s neck.

  Jason swung in time, using the fuller of his blade to deflect.

  He spun with the deflection and swung downward—

  Josh crashed into him bodily, disrupting the attack and shoving Jason back.

  They clashed again.

  Then again.

  A constant shift—predator, prey, predator, prey—every second rewriting the battle.

  To the untrained eye, it looked like chaos.

  To Jason, every movement felt like a choice between life and death.

  To Josh, it was a test he hadn’t expected.

  The longer they exchanged blows, the more Jason’s stamina bled away.

  The hyperfocus flickered.

  His vision blurred.

  His breath shook.

  When he lunged one last time, desperate to end it before his strength gave out—

  Josh read it easily.

  He ducked under the blade and swept Jason’s exhausted legs. Jason crashed to the ground, rolling and rising to a knee, trying to lift his sword—

  But Josh’s shadow fell over him.

  Jason looked up.

  The last thing he saw was Josh’s fist.

  THUNK.

  Darkness swallowed him whole.

  Through the fading haze, he heard one final breathless order:

  “Fifteen-minute break…”