---
The silence that followed the end of the self-trial was deafening, but it didn't last long. Just as the swirling crimson glow of the portal returned to swallow Asmodeus, Dreamer's voice boomed across the void like a thunderclap.
"Well, well, that was… enlightening, wasn't it?" His tone was soaked in mockery, though there was a hint of genuine amusement hidden beneath.
Asmodeus smirked faintly, stepping through the portal without a word.
The world shifted once more, and when Asmodeus opened his eyes, he was back in the wooden shack. The shadows, once silent and oppressive, now writhed like restless creatures, as if they sensed the tension in the air. Around him, the children who had completed their own self-trials reappeared one by one, each emerging from their respective shadows.
Some looked dazed, others terrified, and a few were utterly defeated. The air was thick with unease, but no one dared to speak.
"Welcome back, my dear little failures," Dreamer's voice rang out, his mocking laughter filling the room. "Well, not all of you failed. Some of you proved yourselves… adequate."
His gaze swept over the crowd, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he clapped his hands together.
"But enough about that! Let's move on to something far more entertaining: the next trial."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
---
Dreamer stepped forward, his form shifting slightly as though he were more shadow than substance. He began to pace, his steps deliberate and slow, drawing out the tension in the room.
"This next trial," he began, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone, "is my personal favorite. A trial where you won't be fighting shadows, illusions, or even yourselves."
He paused, letting his words hang in the air.
"No, this time, you'll be fighting each other."
A collective gasp swept through the room, followed by a tense, suffocating silence.
"Oh, don't look so surprised," Dreamer said, waving a hand dismissively. "Surely you didn't think you'd get through all of this without spilling a little blood? What's the point of having potential if you can't prove it against someone else?"
---
Dreamer snapped his fingers, and a holographic projection appeared in the air above him. It displayed a grid, each square labeled with a name.
"This," he explained, pointing to the grid, "is the tournament bracket. You'll each be matched against an opponent, chosen at random. The winners will advance, and the losers…"
His grin widened, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp.
"Well, let's just say they'll be… dealt with."
Another ripple of fear swept through the room, but Dreamer seemed to relish it.
---
The rules appeared on the projection, written in glowing, shifting text:
> Player vs. Player Trial Rules:
1. Each match will take place in a designated combat arena, tailored to test your abilities.
2. The fight ends when one player is unable to continue or yields.
3. Killing your opponent is allowed but not required.
4. External assistance, including the use of the System, is restricted to passive abilities. No active commands are permitted.
Dreamer turned back to the children, his expression one of feigned concern. "Now, I know what you're thinking. 'But Dreamer, what if I'm too weak to win?'"
He chuckled darkly. "Well, that's too bad, isn't it? Survival of the fittest, my little elites. Only the strongest deserve to continue."
---
Asmodeus stood silently, his arms crossed, his eyes—now a dull silver—focused on the projection. Unlike the others, he didn't flinch at the mention of killing. If anything, he seemed mildly intrigued.
Dreamer's gaze settled on him for a moment, his grin widening. "Ah, Asmodeus. I see you're as unfazed as ever. I'm looking forward to seeing how you fare."
Asmodeus met Dreamer's gaze, his expression unreadable.
---
Dreamer clapped his hands again, and the shack transformed. The walls stretched and warped, creating rows of raised platforms that resembled an arena's stands. In the center of the room, a massive circular arena formed, its edges glowing faintly with arcane symbols.
"Now, let's make this a little more… interesting," Dreamer said, his tone dripping with excitement. He gestured toward the arena, and the projection shifted to show the first matchup.
The names glowed brightly:
> Snow vs. Marcus
A hush fell over the room as Snow stepped forward, her red hair catching the faint light of the arena. She moved with a quiet confidence, though her pale face betrayed the tension she felt.
Marcus, a burly boy with a cruel sneer, followed her into the arena. He cracked his knuckles loudly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic glee.
Dreamer's voice echoed through the room. "Let the first match begin!"
---
Snow's trial was brutal. The arena shifted to mimic a frozen wasteland, complete with biting winds and treacherous ice. Marcus lunged at her with brute strength, his movements reckless but powerful. Snow, however, was quick and precise, using the environment to her advantage.
The fight lasted only a few minutes. Despite her smaller stature, Snow's S-rank talent shone through. She manipulated the ice to trap Marcus, forcing him to yield.
Dreamer clapped enthusiastically as the arena returned to its neutral state. "Well done, Snow! I must say, I'm impressed."
Snow returned to her seat, her expression calm but her hands trembling slightly.
---
One by one, the children took their turns in the arena. Some fights were quick, ending in mere seconds, while others dragged on, showcasing the raw potential—or lack thereof—of the participants.
Asmodeus watched each fight closely, his golden eyes glinting with faint amusement. He didn't cheer or jeer like the others; he simply observed, cataloging every detail.
Finally, Dreamer's voice rang out once more.
"And now, for the match we've all been waiting for…"
The projection shifted, and the room fell silent.
> Asmodeus vs. Cain
A faint smirk crossed Asmodeus's face as he rose from his seat. His eyes flickered crimson for the briefest of moments before settling into their usual dull gray.
Cain, a wiry boy with sharp features and a cocky grin, stepped into the arena. "Ready to lose, golden boy?" he taunted.
Asmodeus didn't respond. He simply stepped into the arena, his expression calm and unreadable.
Dreamer's grin widened. "Let the match begin!"