Jason opened his eyes to two dark-red pupils staring back at him.

  Tahuuk’s swollen face hovered over him like a bruised moon.

  “Back already?” he asked.

  Jason blinked, still dazed. Judging by the light and the chatter around him, not even the full fifteen-minute break had passed. Josh hadn’t returned yet.

  “It hurts…” Jason muttered.

  Tahuuk smirked. “What hurts?”

  Jason stared into the distance for a second before answering flatly, “Everything.”

  Hyperfocus had wrung his body dry. Every muscle felt as if someone had poured molten lead through his veins. He stayed lying on his side while the next examinees stepped up. None of them lasted beyond the minute-and-a-half mark. Only the veterans put up anything resembling a fight.

  One of them — the veteran from Jason’s group — sat nearby, his swollen eye giving him a lopsided expression.

  “Up already?” he said with a tired grin. “Yeah, I know that pain. But hey… you fought better than most here. Might be witnessing a legend in the making.”

  Jason groaned. He couldn’t move much — partly from pain, partly from dread.

  “Hah. I’d rather keep a low profile than become a legend.”

  The veteran laughed softly. “After the show you just put on? That’s not really an option anymore.”

  Jason’s faint smile faded.

  He had gone all out. He had forgotten — even for just a heartbeat — that he needed to hide from the Empire. And worse… he had let Tahuuk stand out too.

  Too late to fix it now.

  All he could do was hope to build enough connections here that, when the time came, someone would vouch for them.

  Josh returned soon after, face damp — not from sweat, but from splashing cold water over himself.

  “Alright,” he grumbled, “break’s over. Still got a few people left. Move.”

  The next fights came and went faster than before — morale had sunk so low that most examinees simply walked forward, bracing for the inevitable knockout. Each bout ended in seconds.

  Jason finally sat up beside the veteran, his mobility returning little by little.

  “Why are you even taking this test?” Jason asked. “Aren’t you already licensed in another system?”

  “The third test,” the veteran replied, as if it were obvious. “Most of us veterans are here for the rank-up.”

  Jason frowned.

  “But… why not just join the third test directly?”

  The veteran chuckled and leaned closer.

  “The third test is fighting the instructors. Beat them, and you rise in rank. So we’re here testing the waters first — learning their moves and habits. Sometimes losing early is the best way to win later.”

  Jason smirked. Lose the fight to win the war.

  It made perfect sense.

  “So,” Jason continued, “are you going for the highest rank?”

  This earned the loudest laugh yet.

  “Ha! Hell no. To get the highest rank, you’d have to beat the guild leader.”

  Both men turned their eyes instinctively toward the balcony where Lion sometimes appeared.

  Yeah… that ain’t happening.

  The remaining examinees stepped up one by one. All were knocked out.

  Even the instructors looked mildly tired after fighting fifteen or more opponents.

  Finally, Haunt stepped forward to make an announcement.

  “We’ll take a three-hour break before the second test. That one will be in teams. If you were only here to register as a solo mercenary, you can stay in the lobby to see your results.”

  A weight lifted from the courtyard. Some examinees cheered quietly. Others leaned on their weapons as if their bones had turned to sand. Almost everyone was grateful to be done with the one-on-one nightmare.

  Jason and Tahuuk reconvened, both limping.

  “How about we eat and rest a little,” Tahuuk offered.

  Jason nodded, struggling to speak through the soreness.

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  “Yeah… let’s.”

  The walk back to the inn felt twice as long. When they finally sat at a table, both let out simultaneous groans. The innkeeper appeared immediately.

  “Food?”

  “Stew and water,” Jason said. Tahuuk ordered a plate of local meat.

  The stew — thick with vegetables and energizing supplements — was a favorite among fighters. Synthesized in seconds, delivered in a bowl that steamed like a miniature fog cloud.

  It wasn’t the best meal in the world, but it was exactly what their bodies needed.

  After eating, they trudged back to their room to rest. It wasn’t enough to fully restore their stamina, but the ache was dulled, and Tahuuk’s swelling had stopped growing.

  Jason rubbed his sternum. The pain from the hyperfocus lingered… but he was recovering faster than he expected.

  When they returned to the guild lobby, the place buzzed with activity. A large display showed results from the first test. Some examinees cheered; others slumped in disappointment. A few stood quietly, accepting the truth of their limits.

  Jason and Tahuuk continued straight through to the courtyard.

  Only about half of the original number remained — roughly thirty-five contenders. At least four trios, plus a scattered handful of duos and solos.

  Veterans sat against the walls like perched hawks, waiting for their real challenge in the third test. Jason noticed the one he had spoken to — nursing his bruises but watching everything with keen interest.

  The three instructors gathered in the central arena, Haunt stepping forward.

  “This second test will be team-against-team. Trios in the far arena. Duos and solos here. You won’t be fighting us — you’ll be fighting each other.”

  A murmur went through the courtyard.

  Haunt continued, his voice firm:

  “When you join a guild in Rotgon, you join a family. And families must know how to stand together. You’ll fight each other to learn trust, timing, and instinct. We’ll step in if things get too rough.”

  He stepped back as the instructors began calling the first groups.

  The first matchup began: two skinny men versus a man-woman duo who looked to be a couple.

  The woman fired a blue-glowing lever-action rifle — a stunning round — blasting one of the skinny men off his feet. Her partner used the distraction to shoulder-tackle the second man over the boundary.

  Hault raised his hand. “Winner! Next!”

  More fights followed — some fierce, some quick, a few ending in mutual exhaustion.

  Then Jason and Tahuuk heard their names.

  They approached the arena. The instructors watched them with clear interest — likely still talking about Jason’s duel and Tahuuk’s brawl.

  Jason prayed they wouldn’t draw more attention.

  That’s when the air changed.

  A hush fell over the courtyard. Conversations halted mid-word.

  Every head turned toward the balcony above the lobby doors.

  The heavy footsteps that followed were unmistakable.

  Lion stepped out.

  Each step seemed to weigh as much as a war drum. His cape caught the courtyard breeze, snapping like a banner that declared a one-man army.

  A ripple of awe passed through the examinees.

  “He’s watching?!”

  “He never watches!”

  “He must be scouting someone—could it be me?”

  Jason swallowed hard.

  Please don’t watch me. Please don’t watch me…

  He dipped his head, hoping the shadows could hide him.

  They stepped into the arena under Lion’s silent scrutiny, the weight of his gaze settling on them like a mantle they had never asked to wear. Their opponents had yet to appear; Hault was just opening his mouth to call the next group when a voice cut across the courtyard.

  “Hey!”

  One of the veterans rose from where he had been resting. He adjusted the straps on his worn armor and pointed toward Jason and Tahuuk.

  “We’re a duo. We’d like to fight them.”

  A ripple of whispers spread through the examinees. This was not how the test normally went. The instructors exchanged uncertain glances, quietly debating. Eventually, all three of them turned to Lion.

  Lion’s eyes met Jason’s — calm, depthless, measuring.

  And then he nodded.

  Permission.

  Approval.

  A spark thrown into dry brush.

  Jason’s stomach dropped. Damnit.

  Fighting veterans, under Lion’s direct observation?

  Exactly what he didn’t want. Exactly the kind of attention he dreaded.

  Meanwhile, the two veterans stepped confidently into the arena, stretching their limbs, smiling like men preparing for a long-awaited rematch with fate.

  Tahuuk returned their smile instantly, the kind of smile only a born warrior could wear — bright, eager, almost innocent in its hunger for a real challenge.

  Jason, on the other hand, could only muster a deeply annoyed scowl.

  The veterans prepared their weapons:

  — One held only a longsword, movements precise and practiced.

  — The other had a rifle strapped across his back and a combat knife resting on his hip.

  Jason and Tahuuk stood across from them with their newly bought gear — their first real test as a duo using actual weapons rather than farm tools or improvised branches.

  A familiar sensation crept through Jason’s spine — something pulled from darker, bloodier memories.

  A battlefield déjà vu.

  They were a duo again.

  Facing opponents stronger, older, and more experienced.

  Just like the arena.

  Just like before.

  But this time, they weren’t prisoners.

  This time, they had a choice.

  Jason exhaled slowly, adjusting the grip on his sword.

  Tahuuk rolled his shoulders, the spear resting comfortably in his hand.

  The match wasn’t just a test anymore.

  It felt like the start of something.