Once outside, Dylan felt like he could finally breathe again. His gray eyes settled on the imposing figure of the cyclops before him, and he tried to start a conversation.
"Hey... Basa, you—"
"I forbid you to call me that," Basaros interrupted sharply, her brow furrowing so intensely that Dylan instinctively straightened.
"Alright, alright, got it," he replied, raising both hands as if surrendering.
"So, what's the plan now? She gave you an order, didn't she? She didn't seem too interested in me."
Basaros let out a dry laugh, a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Oh, she's interested. But you'll need to earn her recognition. You see, she may throw herself at anything that moves, but only if it's powerful."
She looked him up and down, her single eye lingering on his scrawny frame. "And with that frail body, you're clearly not in the running."
Those words hit Dylan like an invisible punch. She was right. His body wasn't that of an impressive warrior. Years of war had drained his strength, vitality, and even his appearance. The battles had left their marks, but not in a good way. And to top it off, he'd never been the kind to build muscle quickly.
"And how exactly am I supposed to fix that?" he finally asked, his shoulders slightly slumped.
Basaros stared at him for a moment before delivering a response that left him speechless.
"Well… She's asked me to throw you into the arena to undergo the test of the Inverted Pyramid. It's a tradition in our clan, a way to gauge the strength of someone worthy of joining us. But beware, not everyone makes it through."
Dylan blinked, incredulous. "The Inverted Pyramid? What the hell is that supposed to be?"
Basaros gave a wry smirk. "It's a trial I passed when I was barely twelve moons old. If I managed at that age, you should be able to handle it, right?"
"And I suppose you're going to train me beforehand or something?"
Basaros shrugged indifferently. "We'll see. But first, I need to know if you can use magic. So, got any talent in that area?"
Out of everything Basaros had just said, two words stood out most to Dylan: Inverted Pyramid and magic.
The idea of magic pulled at him. So, magic existed in this world? It seemed absurd, but then again, he was already talking to a mythical creature. This reality was easier to swallow than he'd expected.
"Magic, huh?" he murmured, almost to himself. Then, looking up at Basaros, he asked, "And what if I told you I don't know if I can use it? Would you help me find out?"
Basaros' smile widened. "Oh, don't worry. The arena will help you find out… whether you're ready or not."
Dylan's expression darkened, becoming almost pleading.
"You're not actually going to do that, are you?" he murmured, his gray eyes beginning to glimmer with faint moisture. "Right?"
Basaros turned on her heel without a word and began leading him down the halls with a sharp tug of the chain around his wrists and neck.
"Oh, I was so distracted I almost forgot you were still chained up. Hurry up, we don't have all day."
Dylan didn't reply, merely smirking and shaking his head slightly. Without protest, he forced his pace to match the cyclops' brisk stride.
The walk was short, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. They soon emerged onto a balcony overlooking a massive arena. Dylan was struck by the decor: bones hung everywhere—some clearly animal, but others disturbingly humanoid in appearance.
He tore his gaze away from the grim trophies as the crowd below erupted into cheers. The noise grew louder as a commanding figure stepped onto the balcony.
Dylan's eyes were drawn upward, suddenly captivated. It was the first time he truly saw the Matriarch, and her presence was overwhelming.
She was tall, exuding an aura of authority and respect. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face with green skin and a hard yet mesmerizing expression. She wore a simple yet revealing white tunic, deliberately designed to intimidate as much as to allure.
With a casual wave, she acknowledged the crowd, and her voice boomed, magically amplified:
"My dear brothers and sisters! Is this not a beautiful day?"
The crowd responded with a unanimous roar:
"A beautiful day!"
The Matriarch gave a satisfied smile before continuing:
"Another perfect day for a spectacle. And what a spectacle! Today, we see if a foreigner with weak blood can find a place in our home."
Dylan's heart raced as her gaze swept across the crowd and landed on him. He didn't know if it was fear, excitement, or a strange fascination, but the Matriarch had already claimed his full attention.
She glanced toward Basaros, subtly nodding toward Dylan.
"Bring him to the arena," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Basaros nodded and gave the chain another tug. "Let's go," she growled.
Dylan took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on the Matriarch one last time before allowing himself to be led downward.
Still chained, now burdened by a heavy metal ball attached to the chain, Dylan was roughly shoved into the arena. He lost his balance and fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust on impact.
"Well, good luck!" Basaros called from the balcony, her mocking tone echoing in the air. Before leaving, she added with a booming laugh, "Or goodbye. Who knows? Ha!"
The crowd's cheers grew deafening, thousands of voices merging into a chaotic cacophony of shouts and encouragement. Dylan remained on the ground for a moment, his limbs aching from the fall and the chain's weight. He lifted his eyes to the stands around him—a sea of faces eager for a bloody show.
The Matriarch's amplified voice rang out again, silencing the arena.
"My brothers and sisters! Here is today's challenger! A foreigner, a weakling, but perhaps… a surprise? Let us see if he is worthy to survive in this world!"
A surge of mixed rage and fear coursed through Dylan. Slowly, he pushed himself up, bracing on his knees before standing tall, his gray eyes defying the crowd.
"First trial!" the Matriarch declared.