Chapter 10: The Apex Arena

The Apex class had its own training grounds, separated from the rest of the Academy. It was a vast, open arena bordered by towering stone walls, with multiple levels built for intense combat, both one-on-one and group battles. Lahsiv stood at the edge of the arena, watching as the other students gathered. The air here was different—thicker, more charged with power and tension. These were the strongest students the Academy had to offer, each one vying to outdo the others.

Lahsiv’s expression remained calm, but inside, his mind was already evaluating the others. There were ten of them in total, each one having earned their place through skill, strength, and cunning. Yet, Lahsiv knew that strength in the Apex class didn’t just come from physical power. There were unseen forces at play—alliances, secret techniques, and hidden motivations that he would need to uncover.

The other four top-ranked students were present: Valen, Reya, Lira, and Serik. Valen Orvik stood near the center, speaking quietly with a few others, his dark hair catching the wind as he spoke with the confidence of someone who had never known failure. Reya, ever the strategist, stood at a distance, silently watching everyone with eyes that missed nothing. Lira and Serik were warming up, their muscles tense as they readied themselves for whatever the first training session would bring.

Lahsiv hadn’t spoken to any of them since the ranking was revealed, and none had approached him. That was fine with him—he had no interest in forming bonds with them, not yet. For now, he would observe, learn their weaknesses, and wait for the right moment to strike.

Instructor Kaelor arrived moments later, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the arena. The crowd of students hushed as he stepped forward, his eyes scanning the group with his usual cold gaze.

“The Apex class,” Kaelor began, his voice steady but commanding, “is where the strongest are made. It’s where you will be pushed to your limits and beyond. But remember, simply being here isn’t enough. You are all skilled, but skill alone won’t keep you alive. The real test begins now.”

Kaelor’s gaze moved from one student to the next, lingering for a moment on Lahsiv before continuing. “This arena will be your battlefield. Here, you will fight each other, test your abilities, and learn what it means to truly be strong. There are no rules in the Apex class—except survival.”

Lahsiv’s lips curled slightly. Survival was all that mattered to him. He wasn’t interested in fair fights or rules that limited his potential. The arena was just another step toward his ultimate goal, a place where he could refine his abilities and crush anyone who stood in his way.

Kaelor continued, “Your first task is simple: survive the arena. You will be paired off, and your goal is to either defeat your opponent or survive the encounter. The matches will be random, and you will fight until one can no longer continue.”

The tension in the air thickened as Kaelor’s words sank in. There was no room for hesitation or weakness in the Apex class. Every match would be a battle for dominance, and losing meant more than just a dent in pride—it could mean falling behind, becoming vulnerable, or worse.

Lahsiv glanced around at the others. Most of them were clearly prepared for this, their faces hardened with determination. But he could sense a flicker of doubt in a few of them—small cracks in their resolve that he would exploit when the time came.

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Kaelor raised his hand, and a large stone pillar emerged from the ground in the center of the arena. Its surface shimmered with light as names began to appear, pairing off the students for their first matches.

Lahsiv’s eyes scanned the list, quickly finding his own name.

Lahsiv Vale vs. Serik Thorne

Lahsiv’s eyes narrowed slightly. Serik was ranked just above him—fourth place. The towering student with a muscular frame radiated strength, and he wielded a massive warhammer as his weapon of choice. Serik’s raw physical power was well-known, but Lahsiv knew that brute strength wouldn’t be enough to beat him.

He looked across the arena and saw Serik already watching him. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Lahsiv could sense the challenge in Serik’s gaze. It was clear that Serik saw this match as a test of his dominance, a way to cement his place in the top ranks.

‘Let him think that,’ Lahsiv thought coldly. ‘He won’t stand a chance.’

The matches began one by one, the students stepping into the arena to battle. Lahsiv watched a few of the fights as they unfolded. Reya moved like a ghost in her fight, dodging and weaving with precision, never giving her opponent a clear opening. Valen’s match was a brutal display of power, ending with his opponent crumpled on the ground after a single devastating blow from his broadsword.

When it was finally Lahsiv’s turn, he stepped into the arena calmly, his mind already focused on the fight. Serik stood at the opposite end, his warhammer resting against his shoulder, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the battlefield. He cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the arena, and smiled confidently.

“You’re in my way, Lahsiv,” Serik called out, his voice booming. “You should just step down now before I crush you.”

Lahsiv didn’t respond. He simply drew his sword, the Sword of Ruin gleaming darkly in the light. The weapon felt familiar in his hand, its weight comforting, as if it had become an extension of his will.

Serik’s smile faded slightly as he saw the cold determination in Lahsiv’s eyes. “Fine. I’ll enjoy this more than I thought.”

Kaelor raised his hand to signal the start of the match.

“Begin!”

Serik moved first, charging forward with incredible speed for someone his size. His warhammer swung down in a wide arc, aiming to crush Lahsiv with sheer brute force. But Lahsiv was ready. With a flicker of movement, he activated Shadow Veil, vanishing from sight just as the warhammer slammed into the ground where he had stood.

The impact left a crater in the stone floor, but Serik’s attack hit nothing but air.

Lahsiv reappeared a few feet away, watching as Serik’s confusion turned to frustration. The larger student swung the warhammer again, but Lahsiv was already gone, moving like a shadow across the battlefield, his movements too fast for Serik to follow.

“Stop running and fight!” Serik roared, his voice filled with rage.

Lahsiv’s eyes narrowed as he moved behind Serik. “I don’t need to fight you directly. You’ve already lost.”

Before Serik could react, Lahsiv struck. He activated Shadow Blade, dark energy surging through his sword as he slashed at Serik’s side. The blade cut deep, the corrosive Dark Karma burning through flesh and muscle, and Serik let out a roar of pain, stumbling backward.

Lahsiv didn’t let up. He pressed the attack, his sword a blur of dark energy as he moved with precision, cutting Serik again and again. Each strike was calculated, meant to weaken and disable, not kill—yet. Serik’s strength was meaningless if he couldn’t land a blow, and Lahsiv knew exactly how to exploit that.

Serik swung his warhammer wildly, desperate to land a hit, but his movements were slowing. The Dark Karma from Lahsiv’s attacks was eating away at him, draining his energy with each passing second.

“Damn you!” Serik growled, blood dripping from the multiple wounds Lahsiv had inflicted. His breath was ragged, his strength fading.

Lahsiv stopped for a moment, watching Serik struggle to stay on his feet. He could end it now, but something inside him wanted to see Serik suffer a bit longer. This wasn’t just a fight—it was a message to the rest of the class. Lahsiv wasn’t just another competitor. He was a predator, and they were all prey.

“Do you see now?” Lahsiv asked coldly, stepping forward as Serik’s legs gave out beneath him. “Strength isn’t enough. You’re nothing.”

Serik tried to stand, his warhammer slipping from his grasp, but it was too late. Lahsiv raised his sword for the final strike, the blade gleaming with dark energy.

Before Lahsiv could finish the blow, Kaelor’s voice echoed through the arena.

“Enough!”

Lahsiv froze, his sword hovering inches above Serik’s neck. He turned his head slightly, meeting Kaelor’s gaze. The instructor’s eyes were unreadable, but the command was clear. The match was over.

Lahsiv lowered his sword, stepping back as Serik collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air. He wasn’t dead, but he was broken.

“The match is decided,” Kaelor announced. “Lahsiv Vale is the victor.”

The arena was silent, the other students watching with wide eyes. None of them had expected Lahsiv to defeat Serik so decisively. Even Valen and Reya, both of whom had already proven themselves in their matches, watched him with newfound wariness.

Lahsiv sheathed his sword, his face expressionless as he walked away from the arena. He didn’t need to hear the murmurs of the crowd to know what they were thinking.

They were afraid.

And that was exactly what he wanted.