Aarav's fingers pressed against the glowing cracks in the platform—and the world shifted.
A pulse of raw, searing energy erupted beneath his skin, sending a shockwave through his body. His vision blurred for an instant, then sharpened—too much.
The air burned in his lungs. His heartbeat pounded like war drums.
And the beast was still coming.
Its jagged claws, long enough to rip through bone, swung down with inhuman speed.
Aarav didn't think—he reacted.
He twisted his body, barely avoiding the strike, but the sheer force of the attack split the stone beneath him like shattered glass. The impact threw him sideways, his arm scraping against the broken surface, skin splitting open.
Pain flared. Deep. Searing.
But there was no time to stop.
The beast lunged again.
Aarav's instincts screamed, and this time—he met the attack head-on.
He ducked low, his muscles tensing like coiled steel, and when the next claw came, he thrust his arm up, catching it mid-swing.
The force nearly dislocated his shoulder—but he didn't let go.
Instead—he twisted.
With a roar, Aarav wrenched the beast's arm backward—tearing it from its socket.
A sickening, wet rip filled the air.
Black ichor gushed from the severed limb, splattering across the stone. The beast let out an unearthly howl, its body writhing in agony.
But Aarav wasn't done.
Fueled by the energy surging through him, he grabbed the severed arm—its claws still intact—and drove it straight into the beast's throat.
The impact pierced flesh and bone, violet light bursting from the wound.
The beast choked. Its glowing eyes flickered.
And then—Aarav tore the arm sideways, ripping its throat open.
A fountain of black ichor sprayed across the battlefield. The beast collapsed, convulsing, its massive form twitching in its final moments before falling still.
Silence.
Then—
Aarav exhaled, his breath ragged. His arms trembled, drenched in dark blood.
His chest burned, the mark pulsing—as if it had awakened something inside him.
He slowly turned his gaze toward the other warriors, who had paused their own battles to watch.
Some stared in shock. Others in calculated interest.
But one thing was certain.
He had just proven himself.
And this was only the beginning.
The battlefield stank of black ichor and death.
Aarav stood over the twitching corpse of the shadow-beast, its severed throat still oozing thick, ink-like fluid. His breathing was ragged, his fingers coated in the beast's blood.
But inside him—something had changed.
The raw energy from the platform still pulsed in his veins, thrumming like a second heartbeat. His muscles felt stronger, his reflexes sharper. It was as if the very act of killing had awakened a deeper instinct, something primal and merciless.
The other warriors had witnessed it.
Some looked wary. Others intrigued. But one thing was clear—they saw him differently now.
Then—a slow clap echoed through the battlefield.
Aarav's head snapped toward the sound.
A figure stood at the edge of the platform, tall and draped in crimson robes, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was hidden behind a half-mask, covering his lower jaw, but his golden eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
"Not bad," the man said, his voice smooth but laced with something dangerous. "For a street rat."
Aarav's blood ran cold.
He knew that voice.
Varun Sen.
Aarav's older half-brother. The prodigy. The one who had walked away from their family's ruins while Aarav was left behind to rot in the slums.
And now—he was here.
The smirk on Varun's face widened as he tilted his head. "You've gotten stronger, Aarav. But let's see if you've really earned your place here."
He raised a single hand—
And snapped his fingers.
Behind him, something stirred in the darkness.
A heavy, unnatural thud reverberated through the platform. Then another. And another.
Aarav's stomach twisted.
Emerging from the abyss, a new beast rose—twice the size of the last one. Its body was covered in obsidian armor, its four burning violet eyes locked onto Aarav with unrelenting hunger.
A voice whispered in the back of his mind.
"This one is different."
The beast's claws—longer than swords—dragged against the stone, sending sparks flying. Its breathing was a guttural snarl, thick black drool dripping from its jagged maw.
Aarav's pulse pounded in his ears.
The last beast had nearly killed him.
This one… was worse.
And Varun was watching. Judging.
This wasn't just another fight.
This was a message.
Survive—or be erased.
Aarav gritted his teeth. His body ached, his wounds screamed in protest. But there was no other choice.
Because if he fell here—
He would never rise again.
The new beast lurched forward, the platform trembling beneath its monstrous weight.
Its breath came in deep, guttural growls, thick black drool hissing as it hit the stone. This one wasn't just bigger—it was different.
Its armor-like hide pulsed with violet energy, cracks forming along its jagged surface, as if something inside was trying to break free.
Aarav's instincts screamed.
This wasn't a test. This was an execution.
Varun stood at the edge of the battlefield, arms crossed, watching with amusement.
"Let's see how long you last."
Aarav clenched his fists. Pain burned through his body. The fight with the last beast had drained him—his wounds still bled, his muscles screamed with exhaustion.
But there was no room for weakness.
Because the beast wasn't waiting.
It charged.
Aarav had no time to react—only to move.
He barely dodged as the creature's massive claw slammed into the ground, the impact shattering the stone beneath them. The force sent shockwaves rippling through the platform, knocking smaller warriors off their feet.
Aarav rolled, coming up to his knees, eyes darting for an opening.
But the beast was already turning.
It was fast. Too fast.
A blur of black metal and burning light—and then pain.
The monster's tail whipped around, hitting him square in the ribs.
Aarav felt something snap.
His body lifted off the ground, sent flying across the battlefield like a broken doll.
He crashed hard, rolling across the stone, blood bursting from his mouth. His vision blurred.
Get up.
The beast stalked toward him, each step shaking the ground.
Aarav struggled, his limbs heavy, his breath ragged. Something inside him was breaking.
Not just his body—his mind.
Is this it?
The question was a whisper in his thoughts.
Is this where I die?
He saw Varun's golden eyes gleaming with mockery. The same look he had given him years ago when he left Aarav in the slums.
Like he was nothing.
A memory surfaced.
His mother's blood on the floor. His sister's scream.
His hands clenched. His nails dug into his own skin.
No.
He wasn't nothing.
He would never be nothing again.
Something inside him snapped.
The pulse of energy from the platform surged through him, stronger than before.
The mark on his chest burned, veins of blue fire racing up his arms. His breathing steadied. The pain dulled.
And then—
The beast swung its claw down.
Aarav's hand shot up—
And caught it.
A sound like splitting stone echoed through the air.
The beast froze.
Aarav tightened his grip. His muscles burned, but this time—it wasn't pain.
It was power.
A slow, dark grin curled his lips.
"My turn."
Aarav's fingers dug into the beast's claw, stopping it mid-strike. The ground beneath him cracked from the sheer force, but he didn't budge.
For the first time, the beast hesitated.
The violet light in its eyes flickered—not with rage, but with something primal.
Fear.
Aarav's grip tightened.
Then—he moved.
With a savage twist, he wrenched the beast's entire arm out of its socket.
Rip.
A sickening, wet tear filled the air.
Black ichor gushed from the wound, thick and steaming. The beast's howl shook the entire battlefield, a shriek so deafening that warriors stumbled back, clutching their ears.
But Aarav didn't stop.
He spun the severed arm like a weapon, then drove its own claw through the beast's chest.
The impact shattered its armored hide, violet light bursting from the gaping wound. The beast jerked, its body convulsing violently—then Aarav ripped upward, splitting the monster's torso apart.
Black blood exploded in every direction.
The beast collapsed, its massive form twitching in its final moments before going still.
Silence.
The battlefield reeked of death. Ichor dripped from Aarav's fingers, his body covered in blood and wounds, but his eyes burned with something new.
A presence.
Something ancient and ruthless had awakened inside him.
And the others saw it.
The warriors. The spectators. Even Varun.
For the first time, the golden-eyed prodigy's smirk faltered.
Aarav stepped forward, his gaze locked onto Varun. His breath was heavy, his body screaming in pain, but his voice came out steady. Cold.
"Is that all?"
Varun's eyes narrowed.
Then—he laughed.
Low. Amused. Unbothered.
"You always were a stubborn bastard."
He raised a hand—and the entire battlefield trembled.
Something massive stirred in the shadows.
The air grew thick. Heavy. Suffocating.
And Aarav realized—
The real trial hadn't even begun yet.
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