Creed stood tall, his chest heaving up and down like a war drum, spear gripped tightly in his bruised hand.
Beside him, Lilith and Tierra mirrored his exhaustion, their battle-worn bodies stained with blood, dirt, and the strange black mist that the Arena Lord had unleashed.
The monstrous figure they had just defeated, that nightmare of steel and hatred, lay crumpled before them, its massive frame already starting to disintegrate into glittering, ash-like particles.
It would have almost looked peaceful… if their hearts weren't still hammering in their chests like they had just outrun death itself.
Creed's frown deepened, heavy and sharp, casting a deep shadow across his face.
Victory should have tasted sweet. It should have filled his soul with triumph and pride. But instead? It left a bitter, grinding taste in the back of his throat.
Because deep down, he knew this had been far harder than it should have ever been.
This was supposed to be an entrance trial!
