Like a modern-day Bruce Lee, I struck one with the spear, flipped him, then butted a woman in the face hard enough to shatter bone. I dipped and thrust the spear’s tip through a chest, then warped to the next opponent, who was still dazed by my flurry.

  Short movements, efficient power. I must have looked like stop-motion animation to them.

  I carved across his chest with a lighter swipe that spun him around. . I was suddenly in front of the other woman. I hit her with a quick elbow to the stomach, tossed the spear into the air, and connected again with a hard punch to the same spot.

  She grunted, hitting her head against a stone, and started leaking blood onto the soil. The men tried to regroup, but when the spear dropped into my hand, I jabbed them in the chest, sending blood flying everywhere.

  When it was all said and done, only two of the five stood. The others vanished in clouds of dust.

  I parried, circling both, then brought the spear’s tip up in a sharp arc, slashing one woman across the face. In the same motion, I warped in front of the other and ran her through, thrusting the tip through her jugular.

  Breathless, I felt more powerful than I ever had. The display I had just unleashed should have been set to some old-school 90s hip-hop. For real, for real.

  The spear had returned to normal. No more fiery tip, no warp enhancement, no electric rush buzzing through my veins. But for a brief moment, I believed I could pull this trial off, even if I had only finished a fourth of it.

  The other squads fell just as easily, until the stone throwers arrived. They were the hardest, mostly because they kept calling down boulders from the sky. Magic or game design, these muscle-bound men were nearly invincible. Every time I thought I had them, another massive rock came flying, shattering into dust when I dodged it.

  Eventually, I landed ten successive jabs and reactivated the spear. After that, it was a cakewalk.

  I dog-walked the strong men and stood waiting for the final wave to begin.

  My display flashed in green, and then a message appeared. I scrolled to it and read.

  [Abilities unlocked]

  You can now use your abilities for the remainder of this battle.

  I slotted Commando SliceFury of the Unseen,

  Fury would inflict poison damage for two minutes, and Commando Slice would turn me into a killing machine, able to cut through almost anything for the duration of the fight.

  I checked my stats before the next wave began.

  Level: 32

  HP: 8,351/10,500

  MP: 1,600

  Not bad, but not great either. Without potions, I would have to conserve my health and avoid careless mistakes. On top of that, my arms ached, and my legs were starting to wobble. Just holding the spear was becoming something I dreaded.

  The timer kept ticking.

  [0:24]

  I took deep breaths, just like my therapist said to do when stress was unavoidable. I remembered her words: “Some things are not going to go your way no matter how hard you wish they would. But you can always control how you react. That power is always yours.”

  The last fifteen seconds ticked down. A glowing rectangle appeared on my HUD, pulsing with urgency:

  FINAL WAVE INITIATED

  Enemies will appear at random, sometimes in squads, sometimes solo, or in pairs. The Flish’ar pride themselves on respect and honor, and surviving this onslaught will make you an honorary member of the tribe. Use all tools available. Survive, and earn the tribe’s respect. One mistake, however, and it’s game over.

  - Slay all sixty within ten minutes -

  GOOD LUCK!!!

  [0:13]

  The countdown blinked relentlessly, each second hammering the pressure into my chest.

  Randomized battles. No problem.

  The fight had been going pretty much in my favor up until this point. If I could hold out a bit longer, victory was in the bag.

  When the timer hit zero, two enemies dropped in front of me, both snarling, both gripping katanas.

  I jabbed the first with my spear, forcing him to drop his weapon. The second leapt back, then lunged, twirling the nunchucks in a defensive position.

  When I lowered my spear, he flung out, cracking me against the side of my head.

  [-945]

  When he tried to connect again, I parried, keeping one eye on the first as he scrambled to retrieve his weapon.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  I needed to pace myself, but with the timer flashing in the lower corner of my HUD, calm was the hardest thing to find.

  Strike. Duck. Counter. Another hit landed, but they kept pressing. When one leaned in too close, I spun and kicked him square in the shin.

  With my stats, the bone cracked loud enough to make his partner freeze.

  That was all the opening I needed. I drove my spear through his ribs, killing him instantly. Then I pivoted, bringing the butt of the weapon down on the other’s skull.

  He dropped in silence.

  [58]

  The next combatant was the biggest yet. Shirtless, barefoot, and built like Schwarzenegger in his prime. One look at this swole-up meathead, and I knew I would have to unleash something special for him.

  I sprinted toward him and activated Fury of the Unseen

  A green cloud of death.

  The bad thing about becoming a poison breeze is that you cannot hold a weapon. Oathpiercer slipped from my hands and hit the ground just as the big guy lunged.

  All he caught was vapor.

  He coughed, gagged, and hit the dirt, the poison eating through him fast. Lucky me, the giant was weak to toxin damage.

  I hovered near my weapon as the next victims charged. They fell into convulsions, choking and twisting while the sickly tendrils of poison that I had become wrapped around them.

  Too bad Fury of the Unseen

  Watching a squad of six men clutching their throats made me feel bad for them.

  Almost.

  All I had to do was float by them, and their health started depleting. They dropped to the floor so fast, it felt like cheating.

  When my body solidified again, I scooped up Oathpiercer and braced for the next batch. Then the next.

  When the dust settled, only thirty remained. I glanced at the counter—[4:44]

  The next group hit the ground, throwing square-shaped projectiles from every direction.

  I dodged them, sprinting toward a wall and backflipping over the incoming barrage.

  Landing on my feet, time seemed to slow just enough for me to snatch one of the stars out of the air and flick it back at the thrower.

  Before it could even land, I was already charging the others, jabbing them with the tip of my spear.

  They cried out and vanished in a burst of fog.

  Archers appeared next, standing in a cross formation. Bows aimed at me, and I caught an arrow in the arm that dropped me to my knees as [-455]

  I yelled out in pain.

  Just as I hit the ground, another shaft buried itself in the dirt inches from my face.

  I bit my lip, rolled, snapped the arrow in half, and yanked the rest of it from the wound.

  Pain seared like fire.

  I activated Commando Slice, sprinted toward them, and let out a roar. Then I leapt, spinning like a torpedo, deflecting the next volley of arrows and cutting through the stunned archers with ease.

  [25]

  From above, I heard a low groan as two packs of Guttergrowls crashed onto the field. Behind them stood a single man, gripping all their chains in one hand.

  “Attack!” he shouted.

  I jabbed one, rolled, and struck another. Sprinting up a wall, I spun midair and sliced through a third.

  3 consecutive hits.

  Two more lunged, and I met them with quick jabs. When they did not fall, I kept at it—thrust after thrust, faster and faster.

  Berserk Mode Activated.

  I warped across the field, blood spraying everywhere until I was drenched in it.

  Pierce. Stab. Counter. Upward slash.

  [12]

  For the man, a quick blow to the face and a stab to the heart ended him.

  I was exhausted, breath ragged, and barely hanging on. Yet I clung to my spear, knuckles white, face locked in a scowl.

  The ground rumbled. Twelve aquamarine rings ignited around me.

  Flames swirled upward, heating the air until it shimmered. Then the final enemies appeared—all at once.

  Six men and six women.

  Monks of some kind.

  Each wore robes dark as night and carried a lantern, their mouths chanting in a strange, ancient dialect.

  It was either give it everything I had or fall in a heap and let them win.

  Biting my lip, I charged and drove my spear straight through one of them. Summoning strength from deep inside, I slid across the dirt, gravel flying, snatched the spear, and tossed it again. This time, it sank deep into another enemy’s chest.

  The chant was building to a crescendo, but before it could finish, I had killed half of them.

  Snatch. Lunge. Thrust.

  Circle. Jump. Throw.

  When I landed, the monks’ eyes were wide, and from their mouths came a mix of ice and fire—an attack combination I had never seen before.

  I checked the cooldown of Fury of the Unseen. It had just ungrayed.

  Perfect.

  Their twisted spell came at me full force, bubbling ice and churning fire in a lethal blast. Just before it could hit, I activated Fury of the Unseen and became wind.

  I rose into the air, setting my sights on the group below, letting the poisonous vapors eat away at their health. The toxin slipped into every opening—eyes, ears, mouths—dragging them to their knees.

  [-123]

  [-77]

  [-95]

  [-64]

  [-132]

  [-89]

  [-111]

  Numbers flashed over their bodies in rapid succession.

  With no escape, I hovered over them for the full two minutes as they clawed at their throats in agony. Their eyes hollowed, their jaws caved inward, their screams dissolving into wet gurgles.

  When it was done, I reformed—solid again—and watched them collapse into a heap of smoke and ash.

  [Trial Complete]

  A warm light surrounded me. My health bar slowly climbed.

  [HP Restored]

  [Level Up: 32 → 33]

  [Reward: Flish’ar Trial Spear unlocked]

  I exhaled, collapsing backward into the dirt, my chest heaving. The cold that once bit into my skin now felt distant. The light dimmed, and the silence that followed felt heavier than any victory fanfare.

  I stared up at the black ceiling above the arena and whispered, “Cashius… I hope you’re watching this, old man.”

  The screen flickered.

  [End of Trial: Survival confirmed.]

  I collapsed on the floor, closing my eyes, thankful I had made it.

  Not long after, the colossal doors swung open, and in stepped Nefa, with Sparks rushing to my side.

  “I was afraid I’d find a corpse,” Nefa said, strolling over. “Are you okay?” she asked, bending down to my exhausted body.

  I turned my head while still lying face-up. “Nice vote of confidence,” I said with a weak smile.

  “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it how it sounded,” she blushed. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

  I pushed up on my elbows to catch a breath, and she suddenly kissed me—deep and unexpected. It caught me off guard, especially coming from someone so stoic.

  One brow lifted. “What was that?” I asked, still dazed.

  She held my gaze. “It was deserved,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss me again.

  I cupped her face in my hands and chuckled. “Damn right.” Then I kissed her back with every ounce of passion I could muster.

  When we opened our eyes, I saw Sparks spinning in the air with glee. She descended onto my shoulder and kicked her feet like she always did.

  “As of now, it’s official,” Nefa said. “Lamont, once an outsider, has proven himself and become an honorary member of the Flish’ar.”

  “That last wave of enemies was rough,” I said. “With those spellcasters chanting at me, I almost gave up.”

  I worked my way to my feet.

  Beaten, battered, and bruised. I had survived the onslaught, and all I wanted now was rest, to gather my gear, and see what else Orbralis had in store for me.

  When I stepped outside the door, Nefa’s smile told me that, for the moment, everything was running smoothly. And tonight, if luck was still on my side, things might go even smoother.