Beside Henrie, his teammate Liora, a follower of Sinistra, the God of Sinister Deeds, Betrayal, and the Left-Handed Path, clenched her fists, her touch capable of twisting any material on contact into something unrecognizable, while their leader, Daxton—a follower of Inferna—grinned, hands glowing with smoldering heat. To either side of them were Alex, a follower of Crepitus, the God of Haunting Sounds, Eerie Echoes, and Silence, and Zeek, who followed Nyxara, the Goddess of Madness and Insanity.

  Sorin whispered to Jackson, “Ready?”

  Jackson nodded, then slipped back, muttering under his breath. A wave of phantom soldiers appeared in seconds, forming a scattered line around Sorin’s team as they prepped for the ambush. Henrie’s eyes narrowed as he focused on casting a spell to separate illusion from reality, but Torrid had already taken advantage of the distraction. With a growl, he charged forward in a blur of massive muscle and energy, wielding his enormous sword with deadly intent.

  The ground trembled as Torrid struck, forcing the Valaria team to retreat. Liora moved forward, touching the earth to summon a wave of twisted earth in retaliation. The ground around Torrid twisted and warped, forming a wave of rock, but he dodged just in time, landing a heavy kick that sent her sprawling back.

  “Sorin!” Jackson’s voice cut through the battle. “Henrie’s moving right, trying to flank us!”

  Sorin nodded, immediately calling out to Tytus. “Gale Force barrier—keep them boxed in!”

  Tytus raised his staff, summoning a powerful gust of wind that swirled around the Valaria team, trapping them in a whirlwind. The barrier bought Sorin’s team precious seconds as the Valaria members struggled to maintain their footing. Daxton’s fists blazed with flames as he punched through the wind, the heat sparking through the barrier and nearly singeing Jackson’s face.

  Sorin darted forward, his blade moving like a shadow as he struck at Daxton, who blocked just in time. The heat from Daxton’s power flared up along Sorin’s sword, making him drop back, his fingers smarting from the burn. He regrouped, his mind racing.

  “Torrid, engage Daxton—keep him occupied! Diego, sweep for Liora!” Sorin commanded, his voice fierce.

  Torrid let out a grunt of acknowledgment and swung his massive sword, clashing with Daxton; their strengths evenly matched. Sparks flew as their weapons collided, and the surrounding air turned hot as Daxton’s power surged. Torrid’s eyes burned with determination, his Obsidian Armor absorbing the heat, protecting him as he held his ground.

  Diego approached Liora, his scythe crackling with dark energy as he swung, aiming to disrupt her with his Harvest of Souls. The scythe connected, dazing her and weakening her corrosive grip, giving Diego a clear advantage. She staggered, trying to swipe at him, but he dodged his movements fluid.

  Tytus seized the initiative and began to hurl spells of lighting and wind at Alex. Alex who wielded a bow, attempted to return fire while dodging but had very little luck due to Tytus using Gale Force to knock any arrows from the air.

  Henrie, meanwhile, had finally cast his spell, completely dispelling the phantoms, causing Jackson to begin cursing. Henrie lunged forward, daggers drawn with Jackson as his target. Jackson engaged him with his own knives.

  Sorin turned and engaged with Zeek, who charged at him with his own sword. Sorin launched into a series of strikes and parries; his offensive capability diminished from when he was forced to drop his sword during the brief bout with Daxton. After several moments of intense swordfighting, Zeek made his move. Zeek unleashed a spell named Mental Madness, meant to attack the psyche of its target with disturbing images in an attempt to drive them mad. Sorin took the full brunt of this spell and stumbled briefly.

  Images of torture, death, and tragedy bombarded Sorin’s mind. However, in a brief moment of effort, Sorin was able to shrug off the spell. The spell had no physical pain that accompanied it and barely held a candle to what he experienced in the Tower of Necromancer Wuthum.

  Surprised at his opponent not being incapacitated by any means, Zeek was taken off guard when Sorin barely paused his attacks. Zeek’s sword was struck from his hands, sending it spinning off into the grass. Before Zeek could retreat, Sorin slashed him across the chest, opening a large wound. Zeek howled in pain and went down.

  Just then, a flash of light and heat surged to his right—Daxton had overwhelmed Torrid and was advancing with a fiery strike. Tytus, seeing the danger, intervened with a bolt of lightning that struck Daxton in the shoulder, causing him to stumble. But in his weakened state, Daxton lashed out at Tytus, sending a wave of scorching fire that singed Tytus’s arm.

  Tytus gritted his teeth against the pain but kept his staff raised. “I’m good, I’m good!” he called out, though his arm was burned.

  With a final swing, Torrid smashed Daxton’s defenses, sending him sprawling to the ground. The Valaria leader groaned, clutching his side, the fight finally draining out of him.

  Capitalizing on Tytus being distracted by helping Torrid, Alex shoots an arrow at Tytus. The arrow would have struck, but Sorin used his Shadow control to have the shadow of a nearby tree branch solidify and block the arrow midair.

  With both Zeek and Daxton down for the count, Sorin and Torrid turned towards the remaining team members of the Valaria Academy team. One by one, the Valaria team fell, forced to surrender as Sorin’s team pressed their advantage. They were battered, but their strategy had worked almost perfectly. Tytus, however, looked down at his arm, wincing at the burn that was starting to blister.

  With the battle over, the Enforcers and healers stepped forward, assessing the fallen Valaria team. They did not, however, move to heal Tytus. He would have to be eliminated to see care or have to deal with it till the end of the contest.

  Sorin’s team regrouped, their breaths heaving as they leaned against nearby trees. Sorin retrieved his sword, wincing slightly at the burn on his hand. Torrid kept watch with his sword in hand, his eyes scanning the forest for any sign of movement, while Diego crouched to inspect Tytus’s minor injuries from their previous fight. Jackson, as usual, grumbled about his bruises, earning an eye roll from Sorin as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “We need to move,” Sorin said, his voice firm despite his fatigue. “The noise we made will draw attention. If we stay here, someone’s going to find us—and we might not be ready for another fight just yet.”

  The others nodded, their expressions serious. Torrid hefted his sword with ease, giving Sorin a grunt of agreement as Tytus helped him back to his feet. They fell into formation, Sorin leading the way as they slipped deeper into the woods. The group moved quickly and quietly, avoiding dry branches and disturbed underbrush. Each of them knew how precarious their situation was—though victorious, their reserves of spirit and stamina were far from replenished.

  Jackson glanced up at the canopy, the dappled light filtering through the leaves. “So, any idea how many teams are left?” he whispered, breaking the silence.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Sorin replied, his eyes scanning ahead. “Enough to stay cautious. We need to find a quiet spot to rest and recover.”

  The forest grew darker as they ventured further, the trees towering above them like ancient sentinels. Sorin felt the shadows deepen around him, a comfort and a warning. The sounds of distant battles had faded, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig. They were finally out of immediate danger—for now.

  That’s when Sorin’s instincts flared. A sharp chill ran down his spine as an eerie sensation settled over the forest, thick and oppressive. He raised his hand, signaling the group to stop.

  “Something’s wrong,” he muttered.

  Before anyone could respond, a low, mocking laugh echoed through the woods, freezing them in place. The sound was chilling, resonating with an air of inevitability.

  Aric’s laughter cut through the shadows, carrying a foreboding weight as his team emerged from the dense trees. With his sword resting on his shoulder, Aric Eversteel’s cold, calculating eyes found Sorin’s. He had the look of someone who believed fate itself had led him here. Aric was tall and lean, his frame wrapped in dark armor etched with the sharp, jagged symbols of Moros, the God of Doom and Inevitable Fate. His silver hair gleamed like steel, and he wore a grim, satisfied smirk as though the battle's outcome was already decided.

  “Funny how paths cross, isn’t it?” Aric called out, his voice dripping with venom as his team fanned out behind him. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, Sorin. Karma always has a way of catching up, and its time you got a dose of it for killing Marek Talvre.”

  Beside him moved Selene Ironshade, a follower of Invidra, the Goddess of Envy. Selene was pale, her short raven-black hair sitting above her shoulders, and her jade-green eyes observed Sorin’s group with a simmering hate. She wore a tight, dark cloak that shifted with an unnatural, almost envious luster as she moved, her sword flashing in her hand. Selene’s power allowed her to mimic or twist abilities she witnessed, making her a dangerous wildcard capable of turning any advantage against her opponent. She moved with a sleek, snake-like grace, eyeing Sorin’s team like a treasure she longed to possess or destroy.

  On the opposite side of Aric was Keldon Shadefist, a hulking, brawny man with a permanent sneer and scars crisscrossing his face. His broad frame was barely contained by the torn, ragged armor he wore, stained with old blood that seemed almost ceremonial. Keldon wielded a massive spiked club that rested casually over his shoulder, radiating the savage power granted by Bellathor, the God of Chaos on the Battlefield and Brutality of War. His presence emanated an aura of chaotic energy, making it hard to focus on him without feeling the call to violence, the bloodlust stirring in anyone around him. Keldon cracked his neck, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he waited for a taste of the coming bloodshed.

  The fourth member was Scot Talvren, the surviving twin from Sorin’s previous encounter. He had a haunted look, his pale skin and hollow eyes carrying a touch of madness, an unsettling reflection of his fallen brother. His thin frame belied a vicious strength as he twirled his dagger and watched Sorin’s group with a sadistic and hate-filled grin. Scot was a devoted follower of Dazin, the God of Torture, and his aura was steeped in an energy that promised pain. He whispered to his weapon, almost as if his brother’s spirit lingered within it, ready to torment his enemies and carry on the cruelty they’d once shared.

  Finally, there was Varek Mournfall, the spellcaster of the group, clad in heavy black robes, carrying a Silverblade embroidered upon them that swayed with an otherworldly air. His sunken eyes glowed faintly as he gripped his staff, which was topped with a dark crystal that seemed to absorb all light. A follower of Malstride, the God of Destruction, Varek’s very presence was like a dark storm gathering, his aura thick with ruinous intent. A faint, oppressive energy surrounded him, making Sorin feel as though he stood at the edge of an abyss. Varek’s power lay in destructive spells, capable of unleashing devastating attacks on anyone who stood in his way, and his gaze held the confidence of someone who had watched the world burn and found satisfaction in the ashes.

  “I plan to gut you and kill you slowly for what you did to my brother, Sorin,” Scot called out. Sorin was about to reply when Aric beat him to it.

  “Shut up, Scot. I’ve told you a dozen times. He is mine. If there is anything left when I am done with him, you can have him,” Aric chastised. Scot’s face wrinkled in anger at Aric’s words, but he did not refute them.

  “I believe killing and torture is not very sporting and may not be within the competition’s rules,” Sorin called out.

  “You think I give a shit about getting pulled out of the competition for slicing your guts open? It will be worth it,” Aric snarled.

  Sorin took a steadying breath, taking in each of Aric’s team members and bracing for what he knew would be a brutal confrontation. He waited briefly for perhaps the Enforcers to intervene, but when nothing happened, Sorin deduced that they either didn’t care or would only stop Aric when he actually tried to kill Sorin. That was something Sorin could not count on, so he would prepare for the worst.

  Sorin’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, commanding and sure.

  “Formation seven! Now!”

  His team didn’t hesitate. Torrid stomped forward with his shield raised, his massive sword poised, creating a bulwark at the front. Diego shifted to his left, scythe spinning in a defensive arc, his eyes dark and focused. Tytus moved to the right, his staff glowing faintly with charged energy, ready to unleash fury at a moment’s notice. Jackson stayed further back, his knife at the ready, a sly grin on his face despite the tension. Sorin himself took the center, swords drawn and glinting with determination, his presence tying the group together like the eye of a storm.

  Aric’s mocking laughter echoed as he unsheathed his sword, its blackened blade thrumming with ominous power. “Oh, a strategy? How quaint. Let’s see if your little formation can hold up against true strength. Tactics mean nothing when faced with overwhelming power.”

  Selene smirked, twirling her sword. “I’ve been dying to test myself against you lot. Let’s see how you handle real talent.”

  Keldon slammed his club into the ground, kicking up dirt as he roared, “Let’s break them!”

  Varek stood silent; his staff raised as dark energy pooled at its tip while Scot licked his lips, spinning his knife in his fingers as though tasting the anticipation in the air.

  The teams charged at each other simultaneously. Torrid clashed first, his shield slamming into Keldon’s spiked club with a deafening clang. The force of the impact sent vibrations through the ground, but Torrid stood firm, grunting. “You will break!” he growled, his simple words full of unshakable confidence.

  Keldon sneered, his strength nearly matching Torrid’s as he pushed back. “We’ll see about that, you brainless ape!”

  Selene danced to the side, targeting Diego with her sword in a feint before lunging at Tytus, her blade aiming for his exposed side. Tytus caught the motion, pivoting just in time to parry with his staff. Sparks flew as metal met enchanted wood.

  “Slippery, aren’t you?” Tytus taunted, grinning despite the effort.

  “More than you’ll ever be,” Selene shot back, twisting her wrist to disengage and pivoting for another strike.

  Meanwhile, Sorin faced Aric head-on. Their blades clashed with a sound like thunder, the power behind each swing sending shudders down Sorin’s arms.

  “Come on, Sorin,” Aric said with a cruel smirk, forcing Sorin to take a step back. “Show me why they think you’re so special.”

  “I don’t need to show you anything,” Sorin retorted, parrying and lunging forward with a sudden burst of speed. Aric sidestepped, his laughter grating as he narrowly avoided the strike.

  Behind them, Jackson’s hand flicked, summoning a doppelg?nger of himself that darted to the side and began hurling fake attacks. Scot, however, seemed unperturbed, his knife cutting through the illusion with eerie precision.

  “Cheap tricks won’t save you, coward!” Scot hissed, his eyes wild.

  “Cheap? You wound me, Scot,” Jackson quipped, sweat on his brow as he dodged a flurry of attacks.

  Varek stayed back, his staff glowing ominously as he prepared a spell. “Enough of this,” he muttered, dark tendrils snaking out from his weapon and surging toward Diego. Diego’s scythe spun in a defensive arc, cutting through the tendrils with effort as his jaw tightened.

  “You’ll have to do better than that, Varek!” Diego shouted, though his stance showed the strain.

  The battle was fierce, every move calculated, every clash reverberating with the weight of both skill and personal vendetta. Sorin’s team was holding its ground, but it was clear this fight was only beginning to escalate.

  “Stick to the plan!” Sorin barked, deflecting another heavy strike from Aric. There were specific matchups when it came to fighting that clearly would definite one side or the other. If Sorin’s team deviated from those matchups, then they would be picked apart. Sorin would have to buy time for his team to fight against Aric’s allies and emerge victorious before they all turned to tear Aric apart together.

  “Your plan’s as weak as your resolve!” Aric growled, pushing Sorin back again.

  The tension boiled over as both teams began to unleash their powers. The intensity of the fight skyrocketed, every clash of steel accompanied by bursts of spirit and devastating maneuvers.

  Sorin, still locked with Aric, saw the shift. His opponent’s sword flared with a dark, ominous glow, the power of Moros radiating off it. Aric grinned viciously.

  “Let me show you what power looks like!” Aric roared, his blade cleaving through the air with unnatural speed. Sorin barely parried in time, the force of the blow rattling his teeth. The impact sent a ripple of dark energy along his swords, and he stumbled back, gasping.

  “You’ll have to do better!” Sorin shouted, darting to the side and retaliating with a flurry of strikes. Aric matched him, their blades ringing out in a symphony of chaos as they fought for dominance.

  Meanwhile, Torrid continued to clash against Keldon, their brutish strength colliding like titans. Torrid raised his shield, activating Impenetrable Guard, and Keldon’s club rebounded with a deafening crash.

  “You hit like baby!” Torrid growled, pushing forward and slamming his shield into Keldon’s chest, sending him skidding back.

  “Let’s see you block this!” Keldon roared, activating his own power. Chaos erupted around him, the ground splitting and shards of rock flying outward. Torrid grimaced but held firm, weathering the barrage as he pushed closer, his massive sword glowing with purple energy.

  Selene faced off against Tytus, her sword flashing as she darted in and out of his defenses. Each strike carried the poisonous energy of Envious Blade, a gift from Invidra, and even grazing blows began to sap Tytus’s strength.

  “Feeling a little drained, are you? I heard you enjoyed getting frisky with the ladies. Do you not fancy me?” Selene taunted, her grin wicked as Tytus staggered from another glancing strike.

  “You talk too much,” Tytus replied through gritted teeth, summoning a bolt of lightning with Lightning Surge and firing it directly at Selene. She flipped backward, the bolt narrowly missing her and scorching a tree behind her.

  “Missed me!” Selene sang mockingly, her sword ready for another assault.

  Jackson was in trouble, Scot relentlessly pursuing him. Scot’s blade burned with a menacing red hue, his power from Dazin manifesting as a flaming edge that seared the air.

  “Come on, coward! Stop running!” Scot hissed, lunging forward.

  Jackson activated Deceptive Doppelganger, his illusionary copy darting to one side while he slipped in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding Scot’s strike.

  “Still not impressed, Scotty-boy?” Jackson taunted, though his voice wavered.

  Varek loomed in the background, his staff glowing as he conjured a massive ball of destructive energy. “Enough games!” he bellowed, sending the sphere hurtling toward Diego and Tytus.

  Diego saw it coming and activated Grave’s Grasp, spectral hands bursting from the ground and gripping the sphere, slowing its advance. “Tytus! Finish it!”

  Tytus, barely able to stand, raised his staff and summoned a whirlwind with Tempestuous Fury, the winds slamming into the sphere and dispersing it in a shockwave that knocked everyone back.

  Sorin took the momentary reprieve from the explosion to channel Eternal Twilight, shadows cascading outward and darkening the battlefield around him. “Switch up!” he called to his team.

  Aric sneered, his voice cutting through the gloom. “Is that all, Sorin? Shadows to run away? I thought you were supposed to be powerful!”

  Sorin didn’t reply, instead focusing on blending into the darkness. His swords flickered in and out of view as he struck from the shadows, forcing Aric on the defensive.

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  Diego and Jackson combined their efforts, Diego’s Harvest of Souls sweeping through and dazing their enemies, while Jackson’s Illusionary Snare created false barriers that disoriented Keldon and Varek.

  Selene lunged at Tytus again, but Torrid intercepted, slamming her backward with his shield. “Stay back!” Torrid bellowed, his simple words dripping with menace.

  Aric growled low in his throat, his frustration mounting. His team was being pushed back, and his ego burned at the thought of losing to Sorin again.

  “Sorin!” he snarled, his blade flaring with a menacing glow as he activated Doom’s Reckoning, a power granted by Moros.

  The oppressive energy radiating from him tore through Eternal Twilight, dispelling it. Additionally, the energy seemed to slow time for everyone except his team. Sorin felt the weight of impending doom press down on him, sapping his energy and dulling his reflexes. The rest of Sorin’s team also faltered, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

  “Feel the weight of your fate,” Aric said with a smirk, his attacks coming faster and harder than before.

  Sorin gritted his teeth, parrying as best as he possibly could, but Aric’s strikes were relentless. Each clash of their blades sent shockwaves through Sorin’s arms, forcing him back step by step.

  Meanwhile, Scot roared in triumph as he closed the distance on Jackson, having shaken off his Illusionary Snare, his blade igniting with a hellish flame. Jackson stumbled over a root, his illusions faltering under the strain of Doom’s Reckoning.

  “Got you now, coward!” Scot shouted, swinging his fiery blade.

  Jackson barely managed to dodge, the blade slicing through his sleeve and leaving a searing burn on his arm. He screamed in pain on the ground, defenseless.

  Varek joined the fray with renewed vigor, his staff glowing ominously as he conjured a wave of destruction. The air shimmered with heat and power as a massive, flaming shockwave surged outward, slamming into Diego and Tytus.

  Diego tried to summon Grave’s Grasp, but the spectral hands fizzled against the overwhelming power. He was thrown back, slamming into a tree with a sickening thud. Blood trickled down his temple as he struggled to stand.

  Torrid roared and charged to his friend Jackson’s aid, activating Colossal Slam and bringing his massive sword down in an arc that shattered the ground beneath them. Scot flipped backward, narrowly avoiding the blow, but the effort left Torrid exposed.

  Keldon grinned wickedly, his Chaotic Barrage, a series of rapid-fire strokes of the club, slamming into Torrid’s exposed side. The brutal attack sent him crashing into a boulder, his shield falling from his grip. Torrid groaned and tried to push himself up, but his vision blurred from the impact.

  Aric’s team closed in, their confidence growing with every blow. Sorin could see his team faltering, their tedious advantage wholly gone. His heart pounded as Aric’s laughter rang in his ears.

  “Look at you,” Aric sneered, swinging his blade in a wide arc. Sorin ducked, the attack barely missing his head. “All that preparation, all that talk, and here you are—crumbling like the rest of your pathetic academy.”

  Sorin gritted his teeth and met Aric’s next strike, his arms screaming from the effort. He glanced around, seeing his friends struggling, their injuries mounting.

  “No,” Sorin whispered, his voice growing louder. “Not like this.”

  He roared in defiance, activating Eternal Twilight once more, enveloping the battlefield in suffocating darkness. The oppressive gloom disrupted Aric’s power this time, leveling the playing field once again.

  “Stand together, brothers!” Sorin shouted, rallying his team as the tide of the battle reached a fever pitch.

  “This trick again?” Aric spat, his blade glowing ominously as he tried to cut through the shrouded battlefield. “It won’t save you this time!”

  Sorin darted in and out of the shadows, striking with precision and retreating before Aric could retaliate. His friends followed his lead and retreated into Eternal Twilight, using the cover of darkness to mount a counteroffensive despite their injuries.

  Selene hissed in frustration as Tytus unleashed Tempestuous Fury, a localized storm swirling around him. The winds whipped away the enshrouding darkness near him, revealing Selene’s position.

  “Gotcha!” Tytus roared, hurling Lightning Surge at her.

  Selene screamed as the bolt hit her square in the chest, throwing her backward into a tree. She groaned, clutching her ribs as the vampiric spirit of her Envious Blade flickered out. Her body twitched and smoked while she tried to claw herself into a sitting position. An Enforcer emerged from the shadows, pulling her from the fray despite her protests.

  “I am not injured to the point of bowing out, you bastards!” she yelled as she was dragged away.

  On the other side of the battlefield, Scot locked onto Diego, his blade glowing a sickly green as he activated Agony’s Chain, a technique fueled by the powers of Dazin. Spectral chains wrapped around Diego’s limbs, immobilizing him and channeling spirit into Diego’s body, inflicting massive amounts of pain. Diego screamed as Scot advanced with a twisted grin.

  “You’re done, reaper boy,” Scot taunted.

  Diego gritted his teeth and summoned all his strength, activating Spectral Pursuit in a desperate attempt to escape. Diego turned translucent as his body phased through the chains, and he stumbled forward. Then Diego solidified and used all of his spirit to activate his strongest spell, Doom’s Shadow. A shadowy aura solidified around Diego, amplifying his presence, strength, and resistance to damage. The amplification of his presence slammed into Scot, filling his mind with fear.

  In a panic, Scot used every power he had. He threw out his spectral chains again, bloody spears, and other instruments of torture. They struck Diego head-on, and he took them unflinchingly, absorbing the damage while channeling his spirit for one last attack, Death’s Embrace. Diego’s scythe glowed a smokey gray as his spirit channeled into it. Diego swept it out, and a burst of necrotic energy rippled outward, severing the new chains around his body and striking Scot, sending him flying backward where he slammed into a tree.

  The expeditor of spirit left Diego drained, and he collapsed to his knees. His Doom’s Shadow flickered into nothing, and the injuries inflicted upon him coming back in full force.

  An Enforcer stepped in, nodding to Diego. “You’re out.”

  “No!” Diego protested weakly, but the Enforcer hauled him away as Scot grinned triumphantly abet with blood on his lips.

  Jackson, who had been weaving illusions to confuse Varek, suddenly found himself targeted by Keldon. The brute launched Chaotic Barrage, a wave of devastating force that shattered Jackson’s illusions and sent him sprawling.

  “Help!” Jackson cried out as Keldon advanced, a wicked grin on his face.

  Torrid intercepted, slamming his shield into Keldon with Impenetrable Guard active. The force of the impact sent Keldon staggering back, but Torrid’s movements were sluggish from his earlier injuries.

  “You strong, but too slow!” Keldon roared, his fist connecting with Torrid’s exposed side. Torrid grunted in pain but held his ground.

  Freed up from dealing with Jackson, Varek unleashed Infernal Rift, tearing open the ground with fiery destruction. The flames surged toward Sorin, who barely dodged, the heat singing his uniform.

  “You’re not untouchable!” Varek snarled, aiming another spell at Sorin.

  Sorin activated Shadow Control, forming an impromptu barrier of darkness to block the attack. The clash sent shockwaves through the battlefield, but the strain was taking its toll on Sorin. None of this was going according to their plan. Diego had been removed from the battle, and the rest of his teammates were injured and on the back foot.

  Tytus, battered and bruised, channeled his spirit into the ground to unleash a Tremor’s Might, creating a seismic wave cracking the ground and knocking Scot off his feet into a crevice formed by the seismic wave. With an effort and a shout, Tytus channeled more spirit into the ground, forcing it close around Scot, pinning him in place and squeezing him till his bones cracked. Scot screamed in agony. The effort left Tytus gasping for breath and distracted enough for Varek to change the target of his spells to Tytus.

  Jackson shouted out a warning to Tytus, but not before a gout of flame shot from Varek’s staff and could Tytus in the side. Tytus was spun about by the impact of the fire and collapsed to the ground as his uniform smoked and burned.

  At the same time, Enforcers came out and pulled both Scot and Tytus from the fight. Both were far too injured to continue fighting. The Enforcer for Tytus patted out the flames on Tytus before retrieving him. The Enforcer for Scot broke apart the ground and removed him, bloodied, semiconscious, and broken.

  Sorin’s heart sank as he saw his team dwindling. It was now just him, Torrid, and Jackson against Aric, Varek, and Keldon. Bloodied but determined, Sorin met Aric’s eyes through the gloom.

  “This isn’t over,” Sorin growled, his resolve hardening despite the odds. Sorin was about to make a move when Torrid charged forth with a bellow.

  Torrid barreled into Keldon Shadefist, and Keldon met him head-on. They began to clash with all their strength. There was no strategy, no finesse—this was about brute strength and endurance, two warriors testing their limits. Torrid’s massive sword gleamed in the dim light while Keldon gripped his battleaxe, their blades flickering with spirit.

  With a roar that shook the surrounding trees, Torrid activated Obsidian Armor; dark purple spirit gathered around his body and then solidified into a jagged, impenetrable black shell that seemed to absorb the light around him. The shell smoothed and warped, creating a set of intimidating purple and black armor. Torrid’s steps became heavier, the ground trembling with his sheer presence.

  Keldon’s grin widened as he slammed the head of his axe against his chest, igniting the sigils etched on the blade. The runes pulsed with fiery crimson energy as he activated Fury of Bellathor, covering himself in an aura of brutal energy that surged across his armor. His form seemed larger, more imposing, and his movements became wild yet precise, the flaming spirit fueling his strikes.

  “Big man think he strong?” Torrid growled, raising his sword high. “Torrid, far stronger!”

  Keldon’s laughter was like a battle cry. “Bring it, you freak!”

  Torrid charged forward with a speed that defied his bulk, his massive sword descending in a devastating arc. Keldon caught the blow with his axe, sparks flying as the impact sent a shockwave rippling outward. Torrid roared and unleashed Obsidian’s Wrath, his strikes coming faster and heavier, each blow slamming into Keldon like a siege weapon. With each blow Torrid landed, his strength grew.

  Keldon grunted under the relentless assault but stood firm, activating Crimson Veil, an ability that surrounded him in a swirling barrier of chaotic energy. The veil absorbed some of the force from Torrid’s strikes, redirecting it into bursts of volatile explosions that forced Torrid to step back.

  Keldon retaliated, his axe moving like a storm. He unleashed Rift Strike, an ability that allowed him to redirect his strikes mid-swing, his attacks coming from unpredictable angles. Torrid snarled as he blocked and deflected the strikes, his Obsidian Armor deflecting most of the damage, but cracks began to form in its surface.

  “You slow!” Torrid bellowed, bringing his sword down in a mighty Colossal Slam, the earth erupting beneath Keldon’s feet.

  Keldon dodged around Torrid at the last moment, appearing behind Torrid. “You are predictable!” he sneered, driving his axe into Torrid’s back. Torrid staggered, but the Obsidian Armor absorbed the brunt of the attack, though pieces of it shattered and fell to the ground.

  Torrid stumbled away and turned toward Keldon. Both combatants were visibly worn, their breaths ragged, but neither was willing to yield. Torrid’s Obsidian Armor flickered, the once-pristine surface chipped and cracked, while Keldon’s Crimson Veil pulsed weakly, the chaotic energy struggling to maintain its form.

  “You hit like baby goat!” Torrid taunted, his voice a deep rumble.

  Keldon wiped blood from his lip and smirked. “And you’re one hit away from crumbling, boy.”

  With a roar, Torrid launched into a final flurry of strikes, each swing of his sword shaking the air around them. Keldon met him blow for blow, his axe igniting with every clash, sparks, and spirit bursts, lighting up the battlefield.

  Torrid’s anger reached its peak, his attacks growing even more powerful with Obsidian’s Wrath surging through him. Keldon countered with Chaos Flare, sending waves of explosive energy rippling out with every swing of his axe. The ground beneath them cracked and smoked, the forest trembling under their titanic struggle.

  All anyone could do was stand away from the fight to avoid being caught up in the battle between the two titanic men.

  Finally, both warriors swung with all their might—Torrid’s sword crashing against Keldon’s axe in a thunderous collision. The impact sent both flying backward, their weapons falling from their grasp as they collapsed onto the ground, too battered to continue.

  Before the awe from the remaining members of each team dissipated, Enforcers swept him and hauled the two big men away. It was clear to all that neither had anything left to fight with, leaving Sorin and Jackson to face Aric and Varek alone.

  Aric turned to Sorin and called out once more. “It's our turn, Sorin; the others had their fun. Varek, stand down and let me deal with Sorin. Only interfere if weasel Jackson tries to help him.”

  Sorin shot a look at Jackson. Jackson looked utterly spent and would not be able to take on Varek. Jackson met Sorin’s eyes and smiled sadly, clearly communicating that he was exhausted and would not be of much help. Sorin nodded, communicating that Jackson should stand back and get out of the way. That would be Jackson’s best method of assisting him: keeping Varek out of the fight. Jackson backed up and put up his hands, indicating he would not participate. Varek scowled and backed down as well.

  “So be it, Aric, just you and I,” Sorin replied. Aric smiled and, without a word, charged. Sorin moved to meet him, pulling out all the stops and launching attacks with all his might. Aric did the same.

  The battlefield erupted into chaos, the trees trembling under the onslaught of raw power. Darkness rippled and flared as Sorin and Aric clashed at the center of the carnage. Sorin tossed out power after power without regard for how much spirit he spent. Aric did the same, spirit pouring from his body. Jackson and Varek were forced to retreat as the sheer intensity of their duel threatened to consume everything around them.

  Sorin lunged forward, his twin blades shimmering with shadowy energy from The Essence of Vesperos, coating his blades with shadows to reinforce them. It was a trick he learned from Zane, simple but effective. He slashed in a blur, creating a wave of darkness that shot toward Aric like a scythe. Aric countered with Doom’s Edge, his blade glowing an eerie crimson. The two forces collided, sending a shockwave that cracked the ground and whipped the surrounding foliage into a frenzy.

  “Is that all you’ve got, follower of Vesperos?” Aric taunted, his voice dripping with venom.

  “You’re going to regret underestimating me, you arrogant bastard,” Sorin spat, his voice steady despite the fatigue creeping into his body.

  Aric surged forward, his movements precise and deadly. His blade was a blur of crimson fury as he activated Inevitable Strike, his weapon seemingly guided by fate itself. Sorin barely dodged, his blade deflecting the attack at the last second. Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal, and Sorin gritted his teeth.

  Sorin’s eyes narrowed as he countered, stepping into Aric’s range and activating Echoes of Fear. A wave of terror radiated from him, pressing into Aric’s mind with haunting whispers of failure and loss.

  Aric faltered for a heartbeat, but his lips curled into a wicked grin. “You think fear can control me? I am a follower of doom!” He roared, channeling Moros’ Resurgence, which nullified the fear and fueled his strikes with even greater power.

  Sorin growled in frustration, activating Eternal Twilight to engulf them in a void of complete darkness. “Let’s see how you fare in my domain.”

  Aric was swallowed into the blackness for the first time; Sorin’s other activations of Eternal Twilight did not catch Aric inside them. Aric’s taunts turned into growls of frustration as his movements became more deliberate and less confident. Sorin darted through the shadows, striking at Aric’s flanks with surgical precision, each attack leaving a bleeding gash.

  But Aric adapted quickly, activating Doom’s Reckoning, his blade glowing with an aura that cut through the darkness like a beacon. “You can’t hide forever, Sorin!”

  Sorin barely deflected a slash aimed at his throat, the force of the blow sending him stumbling back. Blood dripped from a wound on his shoulder, and his breathing grew ragged.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Sorin hissed, activating the Essence of Vesperos, Shadow Control, to form tendrils of darkness that lashed out at Aric, aiming to entangle him.

  Aric snarled, using his overwhelming strength to break free of the constructs. “You are a worm! Always dodging, always evading. Do you not have the strength to face me head-on?” He lunged, his blade cutting through the air with terrifying speed.

  The two collided in a blur of steel and shadow, their attacks relentless. Each strike was fueled by mutual hatred, their blows becoming more savage with every exchange. Sorin had nothing against Aric, but he kept pursuing him and making his life difficult. He was beginning to hate Aric. The world would be better off with Aric dead and Sorin would bring that world into reality.

  “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” Aric growled, his blade slicing across Sorin’s chest, leaving a shallow but bloody wound. “But it won’t be enough to save you.”

  Sorin grimaced but refused to yield. He surged forward, his blades cutting arcs through the air. One sword nicked Aric’s cheek, leaving a crimson line, while the other slashed his side, drawing a cry of pain.

  “Looks like I can hurt you after all,” Sorin taunted, his voice ice-cold despite the fire burning in his veins.

  Aric’s eyes blazed with fury as he activated Moros’ Call, summoning an aura of doom that pressed down on Sorin like an invisible weight and dispelled the darkness. The air grew heavy, and Sorin’s movements slowed, his strength faltering under the oppressive aura.

  Sorin clenched his teeth, refusing to give in. Summoning every ounce of his power, he activated Eternal Twilight once more, amplifying the darkness around them. “If I fall, you’re coming with me!”

  The battlefield became a vortex of shadow and crimson light as their powers collided. Blood dripped from both warriors, their faces etched with determination and raw hatred.

  The clash reached its zenith as Sorin and Aric locked blades, their faces inches apart. “You’re strong,” Aric admitted, his voice laced with grudging respect. “But not strong enough!”

  “Let’s find out,” Sorin replied, his voice as cold as the shadows surrounding them. With a surge of strength, he pushed Aric back, both warriors ready to deliver their final, decisive blows.

  The long, resonant blast of a horn echoed through the forest, a deep and commanding sound that cut through the cacophony of battle like a blade. It was the signal that the contest was over. Sorin and Aric, bloodied and furious, stood frozen for a moment as the sound registered in their minds.

  But Sorin and Aric were far beyond rationality, their narrowed eyes locked on one another. Both warriors surged forward, their weapons poised for a final, decisive strike regardless of the end of the competition.

  “Enough!” an authoritative voice rang out, and a contingent of Enforcers clad in gleaming armor emerged from the surrounding trees. Behind them, healers in flowing robes trailed, their presence commanding an end to the chaos.

  Sorin’s twin blades and Aric’s crimson-hued sword were mere inches from clashing again when the first Enforcers intercepted them. One grabbed Sorin’s arms, twisting him back and pinning them behind him with effortless strength, while another shoved Aric back with a plated hand against his chest. Both warriors snarled and struggled, refusing to yield even as their comrades called out in confusion.

  “The competition is over!” one Enforcer barked, his voice sharp and uncompromising. “This competition phase has ended. You will cease your fighting immediately!”

  “He’s mine!” Sorin spat, his voice raw with rage as he tried to wrench himself free of the Enforcer’s iron grip. His chest heaved, his bloodied face twisted with fury as he glared at Aric.

  “Let me finish this!” Aric roared, shoving against the Enforcer holding him. His crimson sword glowed faintly, a testament to the rage within him.

  The Enforcers tightened their holds, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets. One slammed the pommel of his weapon into the dirt, causing a wave of authority to ripple through the clearing. “Enough, both of you!”

  Enforcers emerged and deposited Sorin’s and Aric’s teammates onto the ground some distance from each other. The healers began weaving through the battlefield, tending to the wounded. Selene Ironshade, leaning against a tree, hissed as a healer worked on her gash-ridden arm. Torrid sat on a rock nearby, his face smeared with blood, both his own and his opponents’.

  Sitting on the ground clutching his ribs, Jackson managed a weak grin. “They really have to pull them apart, huh?”

  Tytus, limping while covered in burns and cuts, grunted in agreement. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from Sorin. He’s a stubborn idiot.”

  Diego lay nearby, his injuries also being tended to by a healer as they were more severe than Jackson’s or Tytus’s.

  “This isn’t finished!” Sorin growled, his voice rough with exhaustion as he stared daggers at Aric.

  “It’s finished for now,” the Enforcer holding him snapped, shoving Sorin back with enough force to clarify his point.

  Aric snarled, his own Enforcer forcing him to lower his sword. “Count your blessings, Sorin,” he spat. “Next time, there won’t be anyone to stop me.”

  Sorin didn’t reply, his dark eyes blazing as he finally stopped struggling.

  The Enforcers’ commanding presence brought a heavy silence to the battleground. Even amidst the tension, it was clear to all that the fight would have to wait. The competition would move to its next stage, but the grudges forged here would continue to smolder.

  After everyone was tended to and mended, shimmering portals rippled into existence. The Enforcers guided Aric and his team into one of the portals and Sorin’s team into another. Sorin and his team stumbled through the sudden shift in location, leaving their heads spinning. This time, the wooziness wasn’t as overwhelming, but Sorin still took a moment to steady himself. Around him, his teammates staggered slightly, Torrid muttering a low “Hate magic” under his breath while Jackson clutched his stomach with a groan.

  Before they could fully regain their composure, a thunderous cheer erupted. Warbringer Academy students flooded toward them, their voices a cacophony of celebration and triumph.

  “Sorin! Torrid! Diego! Tytus! Jackson!” their names were shouted in jubilation, students clapping them on the back, ruffling their hair, and offering enthusiastic handshakes. Some waved Warbringer banners, and others threw up victorious fists.

  “You crushed them out there!” one student exclaimed, his face alight with admiration.

  “That ambush was legendary!” another shouted, miming Torrid’s massive sword swing.

  Torrid looked around, his confusion clear. “Why loud?” he asked, but his wide, toothy grin betrayed his enjoyment of the attention.

  Even Jackson, who had been groaning about his bruised ribs a moment ago, straightened up and smirked. “Well, I suppose I am rather heroic.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Tytus teased, though his grin mirrored the others as he patted Jackson on the back.

  Nearby, other academies celebrated their returning teams with equal fervor. Students in their respective academy uniforms swarmed their triumphant peers, the air thick with cheers and the chaotic noise of victory. Flags waved, chants rose, and the courtyard became a patchwork of rival academies’ pride.

  One more team from Warbringer Academy, led by a stoic Disciple named Kael, was also surrounded by their own group of supporters, clearly having made it into the top ten. Kael’s team exchanged brief nods of acknowledgment with Sorin and his group, a quiet recognition of shared success.

  Amid the chaos, silence spread through the crowd as students began to part. Whispers passed between them, and heads turned toward the advancing figure of Headmaster Zane Warbringer, flanked by several of the academy’s most respected teachers.

  Zane’s commanding presence was undeniable. He strode forward with a mix of pride and authority, his dark eyes scanning Sorin and the others. His armor gleamed in the light, a symbol of Warbringer Academy’s prestige and power.

  Behind him, several teachers followed their expressions, a mix of stern appraisal and quiet satisfaction. Among them was Lyra Valen, the healer who had patched Sorin up during his trial, her calculating eyes taking in their mostly healed wounds and disheveled forms. Another was Master Gaius, their combat instructor, his muscular frame radiating approval as he surveyed his victorious students.

  Zane stopped before Sorin’s team, his lips curling into a rare smile. “You’ve made me proud,” he said, his voice carrying over the courtyard’s quiet. “But there is more work to do. Celebrate tonight, and for tomorrow, we will prepare for the next stage.”

  Sorin smiled at Zane, seeing not just the man who had been teaching him and closely mentoring him for the past several months but also the reflection of Magnus within Zane. How Zane congratulated him with the rare smile and words that always hinted at more work to be done was exactly like Magnus.

  This thought was interrupted with a squawk as Vestian swooped down and landed atop Sorin’s head. Sorin rolled his eyes, and the familiar began to preen itself. He was oblivious to the situation, only caring that Sorin had returned to become his resting place once more. Zane laughed at this before patting Sorin on the shoulder and congratulating him one more time before turning and moving in the direction of the other victorious Warbringer Academy team.