The chamber beneath the Colosseum was cold and quiet — too quiet for a place that reeked of blood and ambition.
The noble from House Arvendal stood at the head of the long obsidian table, gloved hands folded. His violet cloak caught the light of the hanging crystal lamps. Behind him, two guards in gold-trimmed armor stood like statues, their auras steady and strong.
Kael and I were seated across from him, still wearing our masks.
He smiled. "Mister Vale. Miss Windwell. Or shall I say… whatever your true names are?"
His tone was polite, but the tension in the air was sharp enough to cut.
I leaned back slightly, letting silence do the talking. Kael remained calm beside me, her eyes scanning every exit, every guard, every shadow.
"I must commend you," he continued. "Few Iron-ranked fighters rise through the Bronze circuit in a single week. Fewer still defeat Naturals of higher cores. The Council finds that… concerning."
"Concerning?" Kael echoed softly.
"Indeed," the noble said, his smile tightening. "Our world is built on order. On lineage. Talent. The flow of Aetherka through pure bloodlines. Yet you two appear from nowhere — no records, no history — and humiliate our trained Naturals in public duels."
I shrugged. "Maybe your Naturals are getting soft."
A flash of irritation crossed his eyes. "Careful, boy. Insolence does not become you."
Kael rested her chin on one hand. "Then what does? Subservience?"
The noble's mask of civility cracked for just a second — then returned, smoother than before. "I see. You're spirited. No matter. The Council has decided that before you can advance to Silver tier, we must verify your… authenticity."
"Authenticity," I repeated. "Meaning what?"
He turned slightly, gesturing to one of the guards. "Meaning a test. Of your nature, your power, and your loyalty."
The guard stepped forward — a mountain of a man, muscles taut beneath burnished armor. His presence hit like a wall.
A Bearer, peak yellow core. His energy rolled off him in waves, dense and suffocating.
"Sir Harl Ven," the noble said proudly. "Commander of my personal guard. You will face him here, now. If you are what you claim — a Natural of your own making — then prove it."
Kael tensed beside me. "This isn't a test," she whispered. "It's a trap."
I stood slowly, rolling my shoulders. "Doesn't matter. I'll pass either way."
The chamber was cleared. The guards moved back to form a circle around the dueling space. The noble remained by the table, arms folded, watching with the detached curiosity of a man observing a wild animal.
Sir Harl cracked his neck. "You've got guts, boy. I'll grant that much."
"Let's see if I've got anything else."
He grinned. "You'll regret that tone soon enough."
The moment his aura surged, the temperature of the room dropped. His life energy condensed into his muscles, the faint glow around his chest pulsing rhythmically — the mark of a fully formed heart core.
Each beat of his heart sent ripples through the air.
He moved.
Not fast — impossibly fast.
A blur of armor and intent.
I barely got my sword up in time to block the first strike. The impact jarred my bones, sending shockwaves down my arm.
He followed with a spinning kick that slammed into my side. Pain blossomed through my ribs, and I staggered back, sliding across the polished stone floor.
"Not bad!" he barked, already closing the distance. "But you're no Natural."
I exhaled sharply, focusing. My vision tunneled — the noise, the noble's smug expression, Kael's concerned look — all fading into the rhythm of the fight.
Heartbeats. Breathing. Flow.
Sir Harl's energy was thick and heavy — a solid rhythm that matched his brutal style. Every attack followed the pulse of his core, every movement predictable to those who could listen.
And I could.
I shifted my stance, lowering my sword. My core thrummed, yellow light pulsing faintly beneath my skin.
When he lunged again, I didn't dodge. I stepped into his strike.
His blade scraped along mine, sparks flying. Using telekinesis subtly — just enough to alter the angle — I redirected the force sideways.
The Bearer stumbled, caught off-guard for the first time.
I drove my knee into his gut. The air exploded from his lungs.
But he was fast to recover — faster than I expected. His fist connected with my jaw, spinning me around. Blood filled my mouth.
He laughed. "Better. But not enough."
He slammed his foot down, and energy erupted beneath me — a shockwave that sent cracks spidering across the floor.
I barely rolled aside in time. My lungs burned. My sword trembled in my grip.
Still, I smiled. "I'm learning your rhythm."
His eyes narrowed. "You what?"
I stepped forward again, this time matching his aura pulse-for-pulse. My breathing aligned with his rhythm, my steps tracing the beats of his life energy.
It wasn't just movement anymore. It was resonance.
Every swing he took, I met half a second before it landed. Every feint, I read from the tightening of his shoulders.
He grew frustrated, his strikes wilder.
"Stop reading me!" he roared, unleashing a massive overhead strike.
I caught the blade mid-swing, sparks screaming as steel met steel.
The pressure between us exploded — energy colliding, compressing, twisting — until I felt something inside me crack.
Not bone. Not will.
Core.
The surge hit like lightning.
Yellow flared behind my ribs, brighter and hotter than ever before. My body seized, then expanded with raw, electric life energy.
Every sense sharpened. Time slowed.
Sir Harl froze mid-motion, eyes widening as my aura surged outward.
The pressure wave rippled through the chamber, slamming into the walls. The noble stumbled backward, his cloak whipping in the gust.
Kael's voice cut through the haze. "Sam—control it!"
I took a slow breath. The energy was wild, flooding my limbs, demanding release. But this time, I didn't fight it.
I shaped it.
Focused it.
The air around my blade shimmered — not with light, but with invisible weight. Pressure condensed along the sword's edge, humming like restrained thunder.
Sir Harl steadied himself, jaw tight. "So you are one of us," he said, voice low. "A Natural after all."
I shook my head. "Not like you."
Then I moved.
My sword cut through the air in a single fluid motion — no wasted effort, no hesitation.
He raised his blade to block, but the moment the edges met, the compressed pressure released.
A shockwave exploded between us, hurling him backward. His armor dented against the far wall, cracks spreading from the impact point.
He coughed blood, stunned. "What… what was that?"
I lowered my blade. "Resonance amplified."
Before he could rise, I flicked my wrist, and telekinetic force pinned his weapon to the ground. I stepped closer, resting my blade against his throat.
The room was silent except for our breathing.
I didn't need to finish him. The message was clear.
I'd passed their "test."
The noble finally found his voice. "Remarkable," he said, clapping slowly. "Truly remarkable. A yellow core advancement during combat — how rare."
I turned toward him, still breathing hard. "Are we done here?"
He smiled, too composed. "For now. The Council will be… pleased. You're free to continue your rise in the Arena. But understand — eyes will follow you now. Important eyes."
Kael and I exchanged a glance. We both knew what he meant.
We were no longer unknown. We were pieces on the board.
And nobles didn't move pieces—they used them.
Outside, the night air was thick with mist and noise from the distant crowds. We walked in silence until the Colosseum faded behind us.
Kael finally spoke. "You broke through."
"Barely," I said, flexing my fingers. "It felt like my body was going to tear apart."
"But you didn't. You controlled it."
"Not for long," I admitted. "That power… it's different. Heavier. More reactive."
She smiled faintly. "Then we learn to balance it. Like we always do."
I nodded, staring at the faint yellow glow still lingering on my hands. "Kael… that noble's not finished with us. This wasn't just curiosity."
"No," she said quietly. "It was recruitment."
"Or surveillance."
We both stopped at the same time. Ahead, in the dark alley between the Colosseum walls, a shadow moved.
Not one. Three.
Footsteps. Whispered orders.
Kael's hand drifted toward her blades.
I tightened my grip on my sword, my newly awakened core pulsing like a war drum.
The noble's "test" wasn't over.
It had just begun.