The iron doll, now covered in rust and cracks, paused for a split second, its many eyes scanning the group. Then, with a chilling creak, it released one of its weapons—a massive war hammer—and snatched the beastkin by the throat. The student's startled cry barely reached Zero's ears before the iron doll twisted his neck violently, snapping it clean off with sickening ease.
The body went limp, but before it could hit the ground, the iron doll spun it around, the blood spraying across the battlefield, staining the air.
[Blood Shield]—activated.
The blood formed a screen between Zero and the doll, blocking his view. The screech of metal on rust filled the air, but the sounds were muffled behind the thick, dripping curtain of blood. Zero's heart raced, his body aching, but he knew one thing—if the iron doll was using the blood to stop the rust from spreading, it was only delaying the inevitable.
Seconds felt like minutes.
When the blood screen finally began to dissipate, Zero's sword was already raised, muscles aching, his focus razor-sharp. Grant was next to him, his shield battered, armor dented, and his breathing labored. Both were exhausted. The fight had dragged on for over an hour, and they could barely stand, their bodies already covered in cuts and bruises.
The iron doll was standing before them, slower now—its once-menacing form reduced to a patchwork of rust, blood, and twisted metal. It still had one arm, the remaining katana glowing with dark, cursed energy.
It was still alive, but it was weakened.
Zero's eyes locked onto Grant, and without a word, the two of them moved in tandem.
[Grant]: "I'll hold it. You finish it."
Zero didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his body screaming in protest, sword aimed at the iron doll's neck—the final strike that would end this battle.
Grant stood firm, shield raised, ready to take the incoming blow. The iron doll, its movements sluggish yet precise, swung its remaining katana down, a last, desperate attempt to kill before it fell.
Then—
CRACK!
The katana cleaved straight through Grant's shield.
Zero's eyes widened in shock as the heavy metal split apart, the pieces scattering across the arena.
[Zero]: (Too strong—too fast! It's still moving at full force! Damn it!)
But Zero didn't stop. He adjusted mid-charge, twisting his body to strike from behind, his sword poised to carve through its exposed joints.
He never reached it.
A shield—one that hadn't been there before—materialized out of nowhere.
BANG!
Zero's blade clashed against the sudden barrier, stopping him dead in his tracks. (What—?!)
That hesitation cost him everything.
A blur of metal and cold precision.
The iron doll's katana arced through the air.
And Zero felt it.
A sharp, searing pain.
Then—
Darkness.
Zero gasped, his lungs heaving for air. He shot upright, eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest. His hands clenched at nothing—no sword, no blood, no wounds.
He was back.
The arena was gone.
Instead, he sat in the grand hall, surrounded by the same students who had died.
His mind reeled. He had been cut to pieces. He felt it. The cold bite of steel, the dismemberment, the abyss of nothingness.
Yet here he was. Alive. Whole.
And then—
A voice.
[Dr. Aaron]: Ah, you're awake. How charming.
Zero turned his head, and there stood Dr. Aaron, the skull-faced mage, arms crossed, watching them with a smile that didn't quite reach his empty eye sockets.
[Dr. Aaron]: Welcome back to the Hall. How was the trial of teamwork? I do hope you learned something before you were brutally slaughtered.
A suffocating silence filled the room. The other students looked just as shaken—some were still pale, hands trembling, others whispered amongst themselves.
Dr. Aaron's grin widened just slightly, though the sockets in his skull remained hollow—empty of emotion, empty of mercy.
[Dr. Aaron]: Fascinating to observe. All that screaming… all that dying. And yet, here you are again. Fresh. Intact. Like nothing ever happened.
He took a few slow steps across the grand hall, the sound of bone tapping against marble with every stride of his staff. His voice dropped lower, colder—like frost curling along the edges of their spines.
[Dr. Aaron]: I imagine some of you feel… cheated. Others, perhaps relieved. But let's be clear: your pain was real. Your fear was real. Your deaths were… real enough.
He paused, turning to face them all.
[Dr. Aaron]: And yet…
He raised a bony hand.
[Dr. Aaron]: You passed.
There were a few gasps. Someone choked on their breath.
Dr. Aaron's head tilted just a fraction.
[Dr. Aaron]: Yes, even in failure, there is value. The trial was not about victory. It was about exposure. Stress. Raw instinct. How you falter… how you fight… and how you die.
He let the word die hang in the air like a curse.
[Dr. Aaron]: Consider this a gift. A rare chance to die without consequence. A simulation, of course—though the pain was quite… accurate.
He gave them a smile that could chill lava.
[Dr. Aaron]: You are all still standing. And thus, you qualify for the next trial.
He turned and waved his hand, and dozens of ghostly screens appeared in the air above them. Replays of their battles. Of their final moments. Their mistakes. Their deaths.
Zero saw himself—charging, blocked, sliced. Again. Again. From every angle.
[Dr. Aaron]: Use these as you will. Study your humiliations. See where you broke. See where you bled. Because next time…, You may not come back.
Then he clapped his hands once.
[Dr. Aaron]: You have twelve hours to rest. Your third trial will begin at dawn. Dismissed.
The screens vanished. The hall dimmed.
And the weight of what came next settled like iron chains around every student's neck.
Zero stood silent, fists clenched. His eyes burned not with fear—but with focus.
He wasn't just going to survive the next trial.
He would thrive.
With the time granted before dawn, he slipped away into one of the academy's many private ritual chambers. Shadows clung to the walls like whispers. The air tasted like iron and old magic.
First, he stepped to the center and sat in silence. Then—without hesitation—he opened his mouth and bit down hard on his own tongue. Blood welled between his teeth.
He didn't flinch.
Zero dipped his fingers into the blood and drew ancient, infernal runes along the inside of his jaw—symbols of awakening, of devouring tongues, of cursed flame.
As the last rune connected, his mouth ignited in black fire.
He screamed, not in pain, but in triumph.
The flame twisted, writhed—and then died down.
His tongue, once merely mutated into an [Imp Tongue], was now something far more potent.
[Imp Tongue] → [Demon Tongue]
(Capable of speaking forbidden dialects. Enhances casting of dark magic through voice. May influence demons or break weaker seals with speech alone.)
Zero spat black smoke and grinned.
[Zero]: Good start.
Next, he prepared the true ritual.
In the center of the room, he carved a complex circle of runes into the stone with a curved obsidian blade. The knife hissed with every stroke, cutting not only stone, but space itself. With a shallow slice across his chest, he let his blood spill freely onto the lines.
The circle pulsed red.
Zero stood tall at its center and whispered:
[Zero]:
"I beseech thee… awaken my blood vines, Great ██████…"
The name could not be spoken by mortals. The chamber itself shuddered.
The blood ignited, burning crimson and black. Flames raced along the runes and engulfed him in a storm of forbidden power. The pain was real—searing every nerve, rewriting his essence.
Then the light vanished.
And Zero opened his eyes.
He could feel it. Power—unfurling like wings of shadow and wrath behind him.
[Dark Dart] → [Dark Demon Arrows]
(Fires multiple arrows forged from demonic essence. Seeks targets. Pierces magical and physical defense.)
[Shadow Veil] → [One With Darkness]
(Allows Zero to vanish into shadows entirely. Gains partial intangibility and immunity to light detection for a limited time.)
[Beginning Curses] → [Demonic Curses]
(Unleashes enhanced status effects including madness, decay, and binding. Grows stronger the more blood is spilled in the area.)
He stood there for a moment—battered, bloodied, burned—grinning like a devil.
His body would rest.
But his soul?
His soul was already sharpening blades in the dark.
[Chapter end]