As Arcelus hit his final push-up of the set, his muscles burning with the familiar strain, something unusual occurred. The air around him seemed to thicken, his breath caught in his throat, and his focus faltered. The space around him shimmered, as if reality itself was bending, and then—blinding, searing light filled his vision.
The light consumed everything, leaving him with no sense of time or space. He felt weightless, his body suspended in nothingness. The sensation was strange, neither painful nor pleasant, but entirely foreign to everything he had ever experienced.
When the light finally receded, Arcelus found himself standing in a vast, ethereal landscape. The ground was soft and luminescent, stretching out into a horizon that was obscured by swirling clouds and glowing energy. The air was rich with an otherworldly hum, a sound not unlike the pulse of life itself. It felt like a space between worlds—neither here nor there.
Before him stood a figure, radiating an aura of power that filled the entire realm. The being's form shimmered with an ethereal light, humanoid but transcendent, its features neither male nor female. There was an undeniable presence of authority in the air.
"You are Arcelus Kai," the being spoke. Its voice reverberated through Arcelus' entire being, somehow filling him with both awe and cold detachment. "I have been observing you, young one."
Arcelus' violet eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"I am a god." the being replied, its form flickering momentarily. "And I bring a proposition."
The being's form shifted again, now becoming more defined, more tangible, as though it was taking a physical shape. A pulse of energy surrounded Arcelus, and he felt a stirring in his core—his heart racing, his senses heightened.
"There is a vacant position for a god," the being explained. "And, as I have seen in you, the potential to claim it. But to ascend... you must prove yourself worthy. A trial awaits you. Not of strength alone, but of intellect, spirit, and resolve."
Arcelus' pulse quickened. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. No longer would he rely on theories and rituals alone. This trial was real. Tangible. And the reward—godhood—was within his grasp.
"The trial," the being continued, "will be held across multiple realms, worlds, and realities. You will face 49 others, all selected for their unique qualities—warriors, mages, philosophers, strategists, and more. All are worthy in their own right. But only one shall succeed. Only one shall become the next god."
The being's voice turned more serious, commanding. "The trial will test your abilities in every conceivable manner. You will be placed in situations of combat, intellectual challenge, moral dilemmas, and more. Some challenges will be physical, others mental. Some will involve choices that will define your very nature. But know this—if you fall, if you fail, you will not be returned to your previous life. You will cease... to exist."
Arcelus' expression remained unreadable. He had been preparing for something like this. A challenge. A test. This was the next logical step in his pursuit of godhood.
"Understand," the being said, "you must remain vigilant. Your competitors are not just opponents—they are obstacles to your ascension. You will encounter enemies both foreign and familiar. Some will seek to ally with you. Others will see you as nothing more than a stepping stone."
The divine being's eyes glowed, filled with ancient wisdom. "You are being given a rare opportunity. You have the chance to become something beyond mortal comprehension. But you must be willing to sacrifice everything to claim it. Your mind, your body, your humanity. All may be lost."
Before Arcelus could speak, the light around him flared once more, and he felt himself being pulled forward. In an instant, the divine realm was gone, and he found himself standing in an enormous arena, surrounded by strange figures.
The arena was massive, built from an otherworldly stone that stretched endlessly upward. The ground beneath him was cracked, ancient, and worn from countless battles. Arcelus' gaze swept across the other contestants: warriors dressed in medieval armor, some with battle scars, others with confident postures; others in modern attire, armed with futuristic weapons or strange powers that emanated from their bodies. Some of the participants were clearly from different times, places, and realities.
Arcelus scanned the arena, immediately sizing up his competitors. His eyes were cold, detached. Each of them represented a potential threat, and each of them was standing in the way of his ascension.
...
..
.
Arcelus and the people had been there for a few minutes. Some greeted each other, others formed small groups, whispering quietly about what was to come. Arcelus, as always, observed in silence, his sharp violet eyes scanning the crowd. As he believed, gods should always observe first—actions often revealed more than words.
A girl approached him, her confident stride setting her apart from the others. Her red hair gleamed under the strange, otherworldly light, and her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. She greeted him casually, her tone warm but carefree.
"Hey there. Name's Scarlett Rose," she said with an easy smile.
Arcelus studied her briefly. Her demeanor and approach suggested she was talkative and carefree, someone who relied on charm over confrontation. Adjusting himself to fit her rhythm, he replied smoothly, "Arcelus Kai. A pleasure."
Scarlett opened her mouth to reply, but their fledgling conversation was interrupted by a sudden, blinding light ahead. The crowd fell silent as a man in royal attire appeared, floating above them with an aura of undeniable authority. His golden robes shimmered, his expression stern but regal.
"Welcome," he said, his voice resonating through the air. "I believe you know what you are here for. All of you have wished to become divine beings."
Murmurs rippled through the group, but no one dared interrupt him.
"There are fifty of you. Anyone who feels they should not take part—raise your hands, and you will return to your world."
For a tense moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, six hands rose into the air. Without ceremony, those six were enveloped in a golden light and vanished, leaving behind only faint echoes of their presence.
The man continued, his tone unwavering. "There are now forty-four of you. However, we need ten groups of equal numbers."
Arcelus, calculating as ever, did the simple math. *Forty-four cannot divide evenly into ten.* His sharp mind quickly concluded what would come next.
"So, four people need to leave," the man announced. "However, I already gave you a chance to leave, and you didn't take it. So, you shall fight each other. You will stop when four people die..... Begin."
The words hit like thunder. Confusion spread through the crowd. Some hesitated, unwilling to move. Others immediately shifted into fighting stances, their magic flaring to life. The tension broke into chaos as the first punch was thrown, and a blast of energy followed.
"Begin!" the man's voice boomed again, louder this time. "Or all of you die."
And then, as the violence escalated, his voice added another cruel twist: "Amongst you, there is someone who cannot use magic. I think he would be easier to take down."
Arcelus stood perfectly still, his violet eyes narrowing. For the first time in his life, he felt the weight of a true threat. His mind raced. He knew who the "he" was. He couldn't use magic, and now the others knew it too.
The first fighter fell with a scream, but Arcelus paid it no mind. His focus sharpened. He wasn't afraid—fear was beneath him—but he was aware. His hands clenched tightly as his mind searched for the next move.
Scarlett, just a few paces away, caught his eye. She was watching him, her expression torn between shock and understanding.
"Arcelus…" she started, but he cut her off with a look.
"Stay alive," he said simply, his voice calm despite the storm brewing around them.
The battle raged on, closing in around him. He calculated distances, assessed threats, and readied himself.
For a brief moment, his gaze shifted upward to the floating figure. The man smirked as if he already knew how this would end.
And then, someone charged at him.