New magical pulses rippled through the air.

  Right in front of Ale, a crack of light appeared, widening like a tear in the fabric of the world.

  A second wave.

  This time, six golems emerged, one by one — larger, more menacing.

  Their terracotta bodies were streaked with glowing red lines, and their mechanical chains groaned with every movement.

  Ale narrowed his eyes.

  — "Twice as many? Really?" he muttered, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

  "Let’s see if you last longer than the first batch."

  The golems charged immediately, perfectly in sync, wooden swords raised like executioners.

  The ground shook beneath their charge.

  Ale didn’t move.

  He simply raised his hand.

  — "Murus."

  Walls of sand erupted from the ground — massive, solid, and sudden — blocking the path ahead.

  The golems, mid-charge, had no time to react.

  They slammed into the walls with a deep, echoing thud.

  Ale snapped his fingers.

  — "Ignis."

  A fireball smashed into the first golem with force.

  Explosion.

  The creature’s burning core burst, and the heat turned the nearby sand into glass.

  — Not bad, Ale noted silently.

  — "Aqua."

  A high-pressure jet of water burst forth, hitting the second golem head-on.

  The sand wall melted under the impact, the terracotta cracked wide open — exposing its unstable magic core, pulsing with flickering light.

  — "Fulmen."

  A bolt of lightning cracked through the air, striking the third golem.

  But this time, the effect was weaker — the sand wall had absorbed most of the charge.

  Only a few scorch marks, some smoke… nothing fatal.

  — Hmm. Interesting, Ale thought. Sand makes a great lightning rod…

  He raised his hand again.

  — "Tempesta."

  Stolen story; please report.

  The air howled.

  A mini-tornado formed, shrieking as it rushed toward the three remaining golems.

  Trapped between the sand walls, they were sucked in, thrashed, crushed, dragged across the arena — then slammed to the ground, barely recognizable.

  Not all destroyed… but clearly out of the fight.

  — Effective in wide areas… but hard to control, Ale noted silently.

  Calmly, he stepped forward — wooden sword still in hand, still glowing with a white magical aura.

  He rushed the remaining golems.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five strikes.

  Fast. Precise. Cold.

  And then… silence.

  Crackling sparks. Dying embers.

  The soft clatter of broken chains hitting the floor.

  Ale stood still for a moment, watching the remains of the second wave.

  — "If they double again for the next one... I hope they learn how to think."

  He lifted his head, calm and ready.

  — "Alright. Next."

  Ale stepped back slightly, shifting into a defensive stance.

  The heavy silence lasted only a second.

  Sparks danced through the air once more.

  Two rifts split open in the void.

  And in an instant, twelve golems emerged slowly — their numbers had doubled again.

  — "Twice as many… again," Ale muttered, narrowing his eyes, half-annoyed, half-focused.

  But this time, something was different.

  These golems weren’t just more numerous.

  They had a strategy.

  Several of them suddenly crouched down, their arms and heads retracting into their torsos.

  Their bodies reshaped into compact terracotta spheres.

  Then, they began to roll. Fast. Very fast.

  Each path seemed calculated: one leapt over the sand wall in a perfect arc, others came in at 45-degree angles, and several skimmed across the ground like living projectiles.

  Twelve golems. All moving.

  All rushing toward Ale.

  From every direction.

  This wasn’t just an attack anymore.

  It was a tactical maneuver.

  Ale frowned — not from fear, but from analysis.

  — "Now it’s getting interesting…"

  He tightened his grip on the wooden sword, then raised his right hand.

  He pointed a finger at the ground just in front of him.

  A magical pulse spread instantly.

  The ground trembled, then cracked open in several places — narrow, jagged trenches.

  Several rolling golems, especially those skimming low, were caught at once — tripped or thrown off course with sharp, cracking impacts.

  Four golems down.

  But Ale didn’t have time to enjoy the moment.

  He turned sharply and sprinted in the opposite direction.

  Behind him, the eight remaining golems adjusted their path, following the curve of the dome like mechanical predators.

  Ale came to a sudden stop.

  The golems lunged at him — all at once.

  A full-on group attack, fast and brutal.

  But Ale… didn’t even look up.

  His eyes were locked on the ground.

  His right foot pressed gently into the earth.

  With a smooth spin of his body, like a controlled pirouette, he whispered a single incantation:

  — "Flammina."

  A glowing magic circle lit up beneath him.

  Thin, razor-sharp jets of fire erupted from the ground in all directions — piercing through every golem around him in a perfect ring.

  The flames passed just inches from his body — but didn’t touch him.

  The golems weren’t so lucky.

  Their terracotta bodies were pierced through, scorched white-hot.

  Some exploded from the pressure.

  Others partially melted, their mechanical joints reduced to charred, twisted wrecks by the heat.

  — "They almost got me..." Ale exhaled with a smirk.

  "That last wave was fun."

  He straightened up, gave his arm a small shake, and began walking toward the edge of the dome.

  The trial was made up of three waves.

  And he had just survived them all.