The Arena

  The arena was silent. Ten thousand people held their breath.

  High in the air, a jagged chunk of concrete was tearing through the sky.

  Prince Caelum stared at it. He had a split second to realize his mistake. He had judged the threat by its size, not its speed.

  "Shield!" Caelum screamed, panic cracking his royal voice.

  [Spell: Aegis of Thunder]

  A sphere of crackling electricity formed around him. It was designed to melt arrows and deflect fireballs.

  But the rock was moving so fast the air around it was distorting.

  CRASH.

  The concrete hit the lightning shield.

  The shield flickered. The rock kept coming.

  SHATTER.

  The shield broke like glass.

  The concrete slammed into Caelum’s chest plate.

  "Gah!"

  The wind was knocked out of him instantly. The impact folded his golden breastplate inward, cracking ribs.

  His concentration broke. The flight spell destabilized.

  The Prince of the Sky plummeted sixty feet, trailing smoke and sparks.

  BOOM.

  He hit the sand hard.

  The crowd gasped. Dean Vance stood up in the VIP box, gripping the railing.

  Caelum groaned, coughing up blood. He tried to stand, but his legs wobbled. He looked up, dazed, his vision swimming.

  A shadow fell over him.

  Amari stood there. He wasn't panting. He looked calm, rubbing his shoulder where the torque had strained the muscle.

  "You have a lot of mana," Amari said, looking down at the fallen Prince.

  Caelum snarled. His pride was hurt more than his ribs. "Do not... look down on me!"

  Caelum raised his hand, electricity sparking from his fingertips. [Spell: Lightning Dagg—]

  WHACK.

  Amari slapped him.

  It wasn't a punch. It was a backhand slap. But with Steel Bones, it felt like being hit with a shovel.

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  Caelum’s head snapped back. His spell fizzled out.

  "I wasn't finished," Amari said calmly. "You have a lot of mana. But you have no chin."

  Caelum screamed in rage. He tried to scramble backward, charging electricity in his entire body. He was going to detonate a suicide blast—a point-blank discharge that would kill them both.

  Amari didn't let him.

  He stepped inside Caelum's guard. He grabbed the Prince by the front of his dented breastplate.

  [Technique: Iron Root - Grounding]

  Amari slammed Caelum back into the sand. He pinned him there, one knee on Caelum’s chest, one hand gripping Caelum’s throat.

  "Look at me," Amari ordered.

  Caelum struggled, sparks flying from his skin, shocking Amari. Amari didn't flinch. His dense bones acted like a lightning rod, channeling the electricity harmlessly into the earth.

  "Let go!" Caelum gagged, clawing at Amari's wrist. "I am royalty!"

  "Here?" Amari leaned in close.

  "Here, you are meat."

  "If this was a real dungeon, I would have eaten your heart five minutes ago."

  Amari tightened his grip until Caelum’s face turned purple.

  Fear. Pure, primal fear flooded Caelum’s eyes. He realized, for the first time in his life, that his title couldn't save him. His mana couldn't save him.

  "Yield," Amari whispered.

  Caelum tried to speak, but he couldn't breathe. He frantically tapped the sand three times.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  [WINNER: AMARI MALIK]

  The buzzer sounded.

  Amari let go immediately. He stood up and brushed the sand off his knees as if he had just finished gardening.

  Caelum curled into a ball, gasping for air, humiliated in front of the entire school.

  Amari looked up at the VIP box. He locked eyes with Dean Vance.

  Your move, old man, Amari thought.

  The Verdict

  Ten minutes later, the arena was clearing out. But the tension remained.

  Dean Vance stood on the podium in the center of the ring. He looked at Amari, then at the bruised Prince being carried away on a floating stretcher by medics.

  "Cadet Malik," Vance said, his voice amplified. "You have won the Tournament."

  There was a smattering of applause, mostly from the F-Class section and the Warrior Class students who were still buzzing about the "Grounding" move.

  "However," Vance continued, his voice turning cold. "Your methods were... unsanctioned. You caused excessive damage to school property. You endangered a Royal heir. And your 'Combat Score' is still unverified."

  The crowd murmured. They knew what this was. Politics.

  "Therefore," Vance smiled thinly. "While you will receive the Contribution Points for first place... you require Remedial Training."

  Vance pointed a finger at Amari.

  "Next week, the Hero Class will embark on their first Live Dungeon Expedition into the 'Caverns of Sorrow'. You will join them."

  Amari narrowed his eyes. "As a combatant?"

  "No," Vance sneered. "As a Porter."

  The Hero Class students snickered. A Porter. The lowest of the low. The guy who carries the bags, skins the carcasses, and sets up the tents.

  "You claim to be strong without mana?" Vance challenged. "Then carry the weight. If you survive the expedition, your rank will be formalized. If you fail... you are expelled."

  Amari looked at Vance. He saw the trap clearly. Vance hoped Caelum would arrange an "accident" in the dark, away from the cameras. Or that the monsters would eat the guy without a shield.

  Amari smiled.

  "Understood," Amari said. "I'll carry the bags."

  And I'll carry the loot, Amari added silently. Because the Porter is the only one allowed to touch the dead.

  Epilogue: The Shadow

  High in the rafters of the stadium, hidden in the darkest corner of the support beams, a figure watched.

  He was young, maybe sixteen. He wore a sleek black bodysuit that seemed to absorb the light around him. His eyes were milky white—blind, but seeing everything.

  He touched his earpiece.

  "Target confirmed," the boy whispered. "Subject: Amari Malik. Threat Level: High."

  "Did he use magic?" a distorted voice asked in his ear.

  "No," the shadowy figure replied, watching Amari walk out of the arena. "He used the Old Ways. He fights like... like father used to talk about."

  "Interesting. The Guild requires his secrets. Or his corpse. Join the expedition team. Kill him in the dark."

  He pulled a jagged dagger from his boot. He ran his thumb over the blade, drawing a single drop of blood.

  "Understood."

  He vanished into the shadows.

  [Arc 2: The Tournament of Houses - COMPLETED] [Arc 3: The Porter of the Abyss - INITIALIZING]