'As expected, at our level, the trials themselves aren't too hard,' I thought as I brought Nyxthar down in a clean, decisive arc.
Hollow Eclipse.
The blade carved through the crimson beam with a resounding boom, shattering it into a cascade of fragmented light that dissolved into the fractured air of the Domain. The aftermath rippled like a pond disturbed by a stone, the distorted space slowly knitting itself back together.
It wasn't that the Infernal Armis's trials were easy. Far from it. They were relentless, finely tuned to eliminate anyone unworthy. But at our level—far above the average Immortal-rank in terms of strength and mastery—they were manageable.
The true challenge wasn't the trials themselves.
It was the others.
Every desperate contender, every power-hungry individual on the Western continent and beyond, would throw themselves into this Domain for a chance at the artifact. The raw chaos that would ensue could break the strongest of us. That was why I had Valen and Jin, along with the Western continent's army, stationed outside. Their job wasn't just to hold the line—it was to prevent an all-out bloodbath from spilling into the Domain.
'If not for them, this would have turned into a free-for-all,' I thought, my grip tightening on Nyxthar. My face darkened at the memory of Art's warnings. Without coordination, without someone holding the gates, this would have descended into madness.
I swung my blade once, letting the energy from the strike disperse, and turned to the others.
"The hardest part isn't what's inside the Domain," I said aloud, the words breaking the tense silence. "It's keeping everyone else out."
Cecilia glanced at me, her crimson eyes narrowing. "And if they manage to get through Valen and Jin?"
"They won't," I said firmly. "Not if they want to live."
She studied me for a moment before nodding, her dark mana still flickering faintly around her hands. Despite her sharp tongue, Cecilia trusted me, and that trust was what we needed to get through this.
"I suppose that's true," she said, her tone lighter now. "Though it's a good thing you convinced them to stay back. If this turned into a battlefield, even you would be hard-pressed to handle it."
"Exactly," I said. "At our level, fighting the trials is manageable. Fighting everyone and the trials? That's suicide."
The others murmured their agreement, but the faint tension in their stances remained. It wasn't just the trials or the contenders we had to worry about—it was the artifact itself.
"Do you need to be Immortal-rank to bond with Mythical-grade artifacts as well?" Cecilia asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Yes," I said with a nod, lowering Nyxthar. "Immortal-rank is the minimum. But even then, bonding with one is a different story. You don't just have to survive the trials—you have to be compatible. The artifact decides who's worthy."
"But its true strength can only be used by Radiant-rankers, right?" Seraphina asked, her icy blue gaze sharp and inquisitive.
"High Radiant-rankers, yes," I confirmed. "Only someone at that level can truly wield its full potential. But the benefits start much earlier. Even at Immortal-rank, bonding with a Mythical-grade artifact would elevate your strength exponentially. That's why we're here."
'And why I'm here,' I thought, my eyes drifting to the glowing heart of the Domain far ahead, the Infernal Armis radiating its terrifying energy.
If I could bond with it… if it chose me… my strength would skyrocket.
Maybe—just maybe—I could reach the level of Alyssara Velcroix.
The thought lingered in my mind, a tantalizing promise. She was the benchmark, the pinnacle of power I had yet to touch. But with the Infernal Armis in hand, that gap could be closed.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Valen stood motionless, his hands buried in his pockets, his sharp gaze fixed on the fractured shimmer of the Domain of the Infernal Armis. The oppressive air surrounding it seemed alive, humming with an unrelenting aura of destruction. Yet, he didn't waver.
With a flick of his wrist, he released another dagger coated in dark astral energy, the sharp edge infused with the honed power of Dagger Unity.
The weapon cut through the air with deadly precision, hurtling toward the Domain's spatial barrier.
Clang!
The dagger struck the invisible wall with a resounding impact, its energy crackling like lightning against a steel sky. It pushed forward, trying to dig into the distorted space, but the Domain pushed back harder. The dagger rebounded with force, spinning in the air before returning obediently to Valen's waiting hand.
He sighed, though his face betrayed no frustration. He knew the outcome before he began—had known it since his first attempt. His strength, formidable as it was, was not enough to break the Infernal Armis's Domain.
Yet he continued, methodically, testing the barrier, sharpening his resolve with each deflection.
"And you," Valen said suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade, "are not welcome here."
His words were infused with mana, the air trembling under their weight.
Above the Domain, space warped, twisting as if recoiling from his proclamation. A new figure emerged, stepping lightly into view, her arrival marked by the fiery cascade of her hair that shimmered like a living flame. The sunlight caught her emerald-green eyes, making them gleam like polished gemstones.
It was Charlotte Alaric, the Archmage of the Tower of Magic from the Slatemark Empire, and the second-youngest Radiant-ranker among humanity. Her power radiated in soft, measured pulses, a sharp contrast to the explosive aura of Valen's presence.
"Not welcome?" Charlotte asked, an amused smile playing at her lips. Her tone was light, almost playful, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.
"No," Valen replied, his voice steady and cold. Mana surged around him in waves, dark and heavy. "You may be the Archmage, but that doesn't mean you'll cross me here."
Charlotte tilted her head, studying him with quiet curiosity. "You can't stop everyone, Valen," she said. "You may rule the Western continent, but this is bigger than your title or your pride. A Mythical-grade artifact? You know better than anyone—no one's going to walk away from that."
"Try me," Valen replied, his tone a warning. His mana warped again, twisting into astral energy that wrapped itself around him like living armor. His Shadow Armour flared into existence, the blackened energy swallowing the light around him.
He didn't stop there. With a flick of his hand, Valen summoned his army.
The Bone Dragon materialized first, its skeletal wings spreading wide as its hollow eyes gleamed with cold, deadly light. Then came the Arch Lich, its staff crackling with dark magic. The Zombie King followed, towering and grotesque, its form pulsating with unholy regeneration. Finally, the Dullahan, its headless figure mounted on an undead steed, its sword gleaming with astral fire.
Valen stood at the center of his summoned might, his voice cutting through the gathering tension. "You are not at my level, Charlotte."
The soldiers of the Western continent watching from afar visibly gulped. This was no sparring match. This was a Radiant-ranker unleashing his full strength. None of them could intervene. They could only watch and hope.
Charlotte's smile didn't falter, though her eyes sharpened. "Perhaps," she said, lifting a hand. Mana coalesced around her, and the air itself seemed to hum in response. "But you're not the only one with tricks, Valen."
Before she could act, the faint scent of honey filled the air.
The world seemed to shift, and the energy around them transformed. Space rippled and folded, giving way to the image of plum blossoms blooming midair. The petals fluttered, impossibly vibrant and fragrant, as if ignoring the oppressive carnage that surrounded them.
Valen's gaze snapped toward the source. "The genius of Mount Hua," he muttered under his breath as Sun Zenith stepped forward, his black hair tied back in a simple ponytail, his robes emblazoned with the emblem of a plum blossom. His aura marked him clearly as a Radiant-ranker, though there was a rawness to it—youthful, still unrefined. At twenty-seven, he was the youngest Radiant-ranker alive.
Sun's arrival was serene, but the tension in the air grew heavier. His eyes flicked to Charlotte, then to Valen, and finally to the Domain.
"So you're here too, Sun," Charlotte said, narrowing her eyes. "Looking for a way to make your mark?"
"And why not?" Sun replied lightly, though his expression betrayed his wariness. "A Mythical-grade artifact can change everything. Even Mount Hua can't ignore it."
Before any of them could retort, the sky itself seemed to tear.
Darkness poured out, thick and suffocating. Kael Nyctharis, the Cult Leader of the Umbravale Covenant, emerged, his black hair framing his pale face like the edges of a shadow. His title wasn't given lightly: The Shadow Emperor.
Next to him, another figure stepped forth—a woman with flowing black hair, her crimson robes catching the light. Evelyn Blackthorn, the Cult Leader of the Order of the Fallen Flame, known as The Black Rose.
In a matter of moments, five Radiant-rankers stood poised for conflict, their auras colliding like clashing storms. The ground beneath them cracked, unable to bear the combined weight of their power.
Valen's jaw tightened, his mana swirling dangerously. "You really underestimate me, Kael," he said, glaring at the Shadow Emperor.
Kael smirked. "Do I? You're not the only one with ambitions, Valen."
The air seemed ready to break as their powers flared. But before the first strike could land, the oppressive atmosphere shifted again.
This time, it wasn't space tearing or mana rippling. It was presence—overwhelming and absolute.
Valen's breath hitched. He recognized this power.
A mellifluous voice floated through the air, carried by a casual, almost teasing tone. "Hello~"
The five Radiant-rankers froze as Alyssara Velcroix appeared, her form shimmering like an ethereal mirage. She smiled coyly, her pink hair cascading like molten cotton candy. Her aura alone was enough to crush the tension, drowning it in the sheer inevitability of her superiority.
"Alyssara Velcroix," Sun muttered, his voice strained. He glared at her, but there was no mistaking the hesitation in his stance.
"Why are you here?" Valen asked, though his voice faltered slightly. He knew the answer already. If Alyssara wanted the Infernal Armis, nothing—nothing—would stop her.
Alyssara waved a hand dismissively, her smile widening. "Oh, I'm here to keep a promise." Her jade eyes sparkled with amusement as she glanced at the Domain. "So, none of you will be going in. Not today."