The thirty surviving teams, still reeling from the clashes of Kleptomania, stood at the center of the arena, their gazes fixed on the void where the thunderous voice had last echoed. The ruins around them began to quake, and a scarlet light erupted from the ground, forming a floating platform. A figure emerged from a swirl of ash—small yet imposing, radiating a monstrously powerful and malevolent aura.
It was a white imp, his alabaster skin stark against glossy onyx horns, clad in an impeccably tailored black suit. A monocle with a golden chain gleamed over his right eye. In one hand, he clutched a microphone etched with infernal runes; in the other, he twirled a cane topped with a skull. His voice, deep and cavernous, shook the arena as he spoke, a wicked grin revealing razor-sharp fangs.
"Oh, dear conquering souls!"
he boomed, his voice amplified by the microphone.
"Prepare yourselves… Yes, PREPARE YOURSELVES!! For the next circle marks the halfway point of the APEX RINGS TOURNAMENT!!! The CIRCLE OF HYSTERIA!!"
He erupted into a guttural laugh, his eyes glinting with sadistic glee.
"The spectators are already in a frenzy!!"
From invisible stands, a horde of infernal creatures—demons, damned souls, and other entities—roared with delight, their cries blending into a cacophony of chaos.
Natass Magna XIII raised a hand, his grin widening.
"Hmm hmm… OK, ok, settle down…
SHUT UP!!!
You insufferable rabble, hahahaha!"
Silence fell, and the imp adjusted his monocle, his malevolent aura pressing down on the arena like an oppressive shadow.
"Now, I shall announce the rules of the next trial…"
He rummaged through his suit pockets, frowning.
"Aaah… Here we go… hmm, let's see, let's see… alright…"
He unfurled a yellowed parchment, reading in a slow, theatrical drawl.
"It's simple… three rules. First, teams may now consist of no more than three members from this point onward… a little rebalancing, shall we say. Second, do not trust your emotions… and lastly, SURVIVE! Muahahahaha!!!"
He snapped the parchment shut with a flourish, his laughter echoing as he vanished in a cloud of ash, leaving behind a whiff of sulfur. The crowd of spectators exploded once more into cheers and revelry, their howls of chaos nearly uncontrollable.
The teams, stunned by the announcement, exchanged heavy glances. The three-member rule demanded immediate decisions, forcing leaders to act on the spot.
Gills, leader of the Blazing Skulls, turned to his team of five—Soehpt, Kira, Aria, and Max. He lowered his eyes, his voice trembling with regret. "Sorry, Max, Aria…" he murmured, throat tight. Aria clenched her fists, nodding as she held back tears. "I get it, Gills. But I won't forget." Max, stoic, placed a hand on Gills' shoulder. "Do what you have to. We'll meet again." Gills gritted his teeth, sticking with Soehpt and Kira, his unwavering pillars.
Tyrnat, of the Styx Reapers, surveyed Nera, Yulius, Zara, and Viktor, his gaze hardened by Zara's betrayal. "We must be three. Zara… you're out," he said coldly, then turned to Viktor. "Viktor, you'll manage, won't you?" Viktor gave a bitter smile. "Of course, Tyrnat. Good luck." Nera, tears welling, didn't protest, her heart shattered by the treacherous Zara, who slunk away wordlessly to join the Nebulâmes.
Bhaadon, of the Nephalems, remained impassive, assigning Solom and Gota to his side, leaving Mira and Kron behind. "Thank you for your aid, but our paths diverge here," he said coolly, his tone devoid of warmth. Mira bowed her head, whispering, "We did our best…" Kron, towering yet silent, walked off without a word, his stern gaze fixed on the horizon.
The arena quaked again, reshaping for Hysteria, as the teams—now trimmed to three—braced themselves to face their emotions in a circle where survival hinged on self-control. The crowd's roars lingered, adding palpable pressure to the trial ahead.