Staying in relative safety behind frontline fighters, Ulian’al carefully observed the situation as they passed each of the fifteen waves of monsters. He helped wherever he could, mostly by melting the undead’s heads with his Scorching Ray or disintegrating their internals with lightning strikes from the legendary Xylok’s Wrath. Unexpectedly, they did a much better job than during their Sector Trial a week ago.

However, as they delivered the killing blow to the pathetic monster from the fifteenth wave, the Hierarch immediately attacked, and it was mostly luck that they made it out without anyone getting seriously injured from the opening strike.

He can teleport! Ulian'al realized a second too late.

The pale man breached the space behind Duraq'er without a single sound and immediately followed up with an elegant slash toward the Knight-Protector’s lower back. However, the decades of experience kicked in, and Duraq'er stepped to the side, turning his shield-arm toward the incoming blow and diverting it to the side with a dull wooden thunk.

The native was correct about the sharpness of this weapon, Ulian’al noted as he watched wood shavings flake away from the spot the shield deflected the slash.

Duraq’er answered in kind, stabbing with his sword, which morphed into a rapid exchange of blows. The problem was, they were both moving too fast for him to take a shot himself. Besides, he noticed that the Hierarch wasn’t the only threat in the Colosseum.

Four bulky humanoids clad in rusted black plate armors were pushing their way through the stands around the arena. In a couple of seconds, they were about to jump down into the arena ground and charge them from all sides.

“Incoming,” he shouted in case anyone missed it.

As the duel between Hierarch and Duraq’er continued, it became apparent that the Hierarch was at an advantage. His saber was now glowing in sickly-green light and every time it collided with Knight-Protector’s shield, it left a small patch of dark rot.

The native, despite being closest to them, was ignoring the exchange and was instead staring at the open gate under the Hierarch’s throne.

What is he doing? Ulian’al frowned. His first instinct was to blame that man for his inaction, but it would be a foolish distraction for both of them. Dismissing his doubts, he refocused on what mattered. The traps should slow down the brunt of the assaulting force, and Friala’el was already running from the right, ready to help Duraq’er.

A movement at the gate made him glance over, and before he even realized that three humanoids were about to step out of the darkness, the native threw his weapon.

Of the three, two were males and wearing dark hide and two curved blades in their hands, and in the middle was a pale woman with rich black hair framing a beautiful youthful face and she… The javelin pierced her left eye and slammed her backwards.

Blinking in confusion, Ulian’al watched as her body impacted the darkness, but was unable to pass through and crumpled into a motionless heap with the javelin still sticking a couple of inches from the back of her head.

How did he know!?

Ulian'al wasn’t the only one turning toward the native. The Hierarch showed the first hint of emotion as he growled and performed a vertical slash with his saber.

“Watch out!” Ulian’al shouted, and luckily the native reacted in time. He crouched down the moment Hierarch shattered space with a slap of his palm and evaded a crescent slash filled with pulsing green energy flying toward his neck.

Unperturbed by this failure, the Hierarch charged forward. Throwing away his previous elegance, the pale man waylaid into the native like a berserker, yet somehow the mysterious native always remained one step away. Realizing that the strategy wasn’t working, and becoming short on time, the Hierarch regained some of his poise and started overwhelming native’s reactions with expertly-placed slashes and stabs.

Despite all that, he only succeeded in causing shallow wounds. The only moderate cut was when he realized he was out of time and committed to a slash into the native’s left side at the cost of a blow from Duraq’er’s sword to his right leg.

The native dived to the side as the sharp saber glowing with sickly light bit into him right below his elbow and used the borrowed momentum to create more distance between them. Ulian’al expected a devastating injury plagued with necrotic energy, yet the edge only slid half-an-inch into the chest and impacted the bones underneath. Somehow, his ribs held, turning a lethal blow into a moderate injury. Still dangerous, but survivable.

Wanting to participate in the battle as well, Ulian’al took aim and released a bolt of crimson energy at the two undead humanoids near the gate. Native’s large beast was already heading their way, so he timed it to disrupt their defenses the moment she pounced, ensuring heavy wounds right from the opening blows.

Friala'el and Duraq'er were fending the Hierarch off and allowing the native to retreat, and a quick look around revealed another of their successes. The traps interrupted the armored figures’ ambush, and the rest of the group was splitting up and heading to finish them off.

Good, we are hold…

“Enough!”

The single word was filled with a tangible weight and hit most of their group like a punch to the chest. It wouldn’t hold for long, and the Knight-Protectors were the first apart from Ulian’al, his brother, and the native to shrug it off.

Unfortunately, even the slightest hesitation was enough to create an opening, and the Hierarch exploited the advantage. His saber pulsed with the strongest infusion of nether energy yet and slipped through Duraq’er’s guard.

No! Ulian’al flinched and reached for the mund-protection talisman. However, before he triggered its effect he remembered that this wasn’t the card’s ability, only a sovereign command.

Pain was one of the counters against weak mind-controlling effects, and Melis’ar’s Knight-Protector immediately regained control over his body, but the damage was done. His left leg buckled under him as his thigh opened up like a burst sausage. Worse yet, the skin around the foot-long wound was already darkening around the edges.

“I can hold him off, but we need to finish this quickly,” Friala’el yelled out and activated her freshly unsealed forth ability card.

Her body became enveloped in red glow, enhancing her physical attributes by a significant margin, and she pushed the Hierarch back with a rapid sequence of swipes of her ax.

“Do it!” His brother shouted a moment later, pointing at Duraq’er, and his Knight-Protector triggered the life-saving talisman.

Unfortunate, but understandable, Ulian’al grimaced. It was too risky for Loras'ki to attempt healing such a wound during the fight, and waiting any longer would put Duraq’er’s life in danger. Luckily, the Hierarch wasn’t entirely unharmed either. The opening cut on his leg injected the first dose of the native’s toxin, and two other shallow cuts marring the black garment signified more injuries from the previous exchange.

It took a couple of seconds for the native to pull himself together, but he was already coating his javelin in the gray goo that pumped through his veins.

“Dilah’ec, can you help me with my next blow?” He yelled out shortly after, lifting the coated weapon above his head and leaning back. His eyes were firmly locked on the rapid exchange between Friala’el and the Hierarch.

How could she…

Two spikes of unmistakable Fate energy, so powerful that even Ulian’al easily recognized, conjoined into a single act of power and announced the moment the native unleashed his attack. The thrown projectile pierced through the air like a lightning bolt, passed over Friala’el’s left shoulder and glanced off from the side of her massive axe.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Normally, such an attack would be a failure, but somehow, the power of the impact diverted the arc of her ax downward and to the left, making the Hierarch miss the parry and carve a deep gouge into his hip. At the same time, the javelin diverted slightly higher and more to the right, hitting Hierarch’s left arm and tearing off an inch-wide chunk of his biceps.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ulian’al noticed the Spider fall to her knees as she gasped for breath, a clear sign of overtaxation. What a horrifying power to wield. Looking at the native for similar symptoms, he could only shake his head in confusion. The man seemed barely winded, despite all the effort and punishment he went through.

The Hierarch counterattacked with an overhead slash which Friala’el easily dodged with a single step backwards. Unfortunately, it proved a misdirection as the air between them split apart, and the Hierarch vanished with a loud pop.

“Where did…” Ulian’al heard her ask, but his eyes snapped to a ripple behind the nearest distracted member of their group—his half-brother.

Melis’ar was currently trying to lure one of the armored juggernauts to the next trap, and had no idea of the imminent danger manifesting at his back.

No!

It felt like everything slowed down to a crawl as Ulian’al watched the black-robed man jump out of thin air and extend his injured arm palm-first toward Melis’ar’s lower back. Seeing the hand crackling with sickly power, Ulian’al realized that if that blow landed, Melis’ar was going to be crippled at best, but most likely dead before the trial’s end.

At that moment, a part of him celebrated the idea of taking the leadership and standing up to his older siblings. If this was a week ago, he would have watched his brother’s downfall with a smile on his face.

Now, standing in the middle of the Colosseum they had no excuse to be in, he accepted what he should have realized a long time ago. It was time to stop comparing himself to others, and forge his own path, no matter the cost.

The Hierarch's palm slammed into Melis'ar’s back with a dull thud and pushed him a single step away. However, before his brother collapsed, Ulian'al closed his eyes, grasped his life-saving talisman, and activated his first legendary card—Narlatan's Burden.

For the first time in his life, he chose to transfer the injuries to himself.

___

Seeing the Hierarch suddenly disappear, made John crouch down and prepare to evade a possible attack, but the bastard jumped out of thin air behind Melis'ar's back.

Oh, fuck!

Trying to help in the only way he could think of, John commanded his Storm Wisp to strike the Hierarch with lightning. Unfortunately, the damned thing was currently on cooldown, and he only watched an open palm strike the prince's back and discharge a massive amount of nether energy.

Melis’ar’s legs buckled, unable to carry his weigh, and he crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. The Hierarch considered the threat neutralized and was already turning to face the desperate rush from Friala’el and Galan’il who was rushing toward the downed prince from the other side, leaving one of the armored undead behind him.

Damn it, John cursed, looking around for the status of the other members of their group.

Feeling his distress, Witherfang stopped feasting on the downed undead near the gate and also rushed to assist him, but what caught his attention even more was the still figure of Ulian’al. The younger prince must have triggered the life-saving talisman, because his kneeling form was fully encased in translucent crystal.

What forced him to trigger it?

Turning back toward the Hierarch who was, despite his injuries, preparing to meet Friala’el’s charge head on, John was just in time to see a golden feather tear out of Melis’ar’s sleeve and shoot up like an arrow. Because the pale man was standing a mere two feet from the motionless prince, he was unable to react in time to the bright streak that hit the open wound on his hip. The feather flew quill-first into the area weakened by John’s blood and buried almost half of its length through the damaged softer tissue, forcing the Hierarch to gasp and clutch at his unexpected injury.

Using that to his advantage, Melis’ar backpedaled away from the dangerous enemy standing above him and recalled his other three feathers to act as distraction.

That sly bastard, John grinned, understanding that the prince was actually able to command four feathers instead, keeping the last as a trump card in his sleeve… literally.

The confusion on Hierarch’s face quickly turned into rage as he realized that his attack somehow failed, and he dived on the retreating prince with his saber, ready to finish the job. However, Melis’ar was prepared for such an outcome and decisively activated his talisman, conjuring a protective barrier around him. Hierarch’s dark blade fell on its surface a moment later and chipped a tiny fraction of its mass. The three golden feathers twirling around like angry wasps fell to the ground, but the one stuck in the Hierarch’s side violently jerked to the side as a last fuck you from the prince, tearing the wound further and making it gush out black blood.

Good, Melis'ar should be fine and with the Hierarch’s teleportation fresh off cooldown, we will be able to finish him before it resets.

“Obey!” The wounded man shouted, pointing his pale hand in John's direction in a desperate attempt to salvage his unfavorable situation.

“You picked a wrong target, you bastard,” John snickered as the wave of compulsion scattered around him, unable to pierce through his Unyielding Mind.

Friala'el was first to arrive and immediately waylaid him. Her empowered state had only a last couple of seconds left until the end and inevitable backlash, so she wanted to dish out as much punishment as possible.

Next was John and Galan'il, who arrived from both sides, boxing the Hierarch in and forcing him to open his back to the fourth incoming assistant—his enraged bond.

With an injured arm and a nasty wound in his chest, the boss of the trial was unable to hold the three off and when Witherfang joined into the fray from behind, his life was forfeit.

“Con-sume!” She projected into all of their minds the moment the pale man faltered and his saber slipped from his bloodied fingers. Her head darted forward with jaws open wide, and she bit down on the side of the Hierarch’s neck and began drinking his blood like it was the sweetest of nectars. At that moment, a shining green ball flew out of the center of Hierarch’s chest and struck the center of John’s.

[Congratulations!

Your group has slain the Territory Hierarch, becoming the champions of the Hierarch's Colosseum.

You have two minutes to collect any discarded equipment, after which, everyone will be teleported out.

Time until forced teleportation: 00:01:58

Note: Any fallen party members will be also teleported out if their remains are mostly intact]

“We made it!” Sakhul’la cheered behind him, quickly joined by the others.

Hakar’li was clutching his stomach with bloodied hands, while Loras’ki was administering healing and first aid.

“Collect the unused traps, it would be a waste to leave them here,” Dilah’ec order Sakhul’la, taking command of the situation since both of the royals were currently encased in the crystalline prisms.

“Oh, right,” he muttered and got to work, quickly dismantling the trigger mechanisms and salvaging the most precious parts into his storage bag.

The armored undead crumbled into dust the moment the Hierarch died, so they were able to finally relax.

“What about you, girl?” John spoke to his bond, scratching the hard scales below her jaw after she finished draining the C-grade corpse. “Are you ready to go back?”

“Sleepy… bloated,” she projected in a feeble voice and collapsed into a mist that wound around John’s arm.

I wonder what she gains from the Hierarch’s remains, John pondered, looking at the mummified corpse.

“Anything usable on him?” Galan’il walked near and inspected what remained of his equipment.

“Nah, don’t think so,” John shook his head. “His saber shattered the moment he died, and his robe doesn't look any better.”

“I think you are correct,” Galan’il sighed, turning the corpse over with his foot. “It is extremely rare for something to remain. Most of the time, the equipment is bought from the System merchants or obtained from the special rewards.”

“Everything all right?” Dilah’ec joined them shortly after.

“Mhm,” John only absentmindedly nodded, looking around and thinking about how the fight went and what could he have done better.

Duraq’er took the one for the team, Ulian’al…

“Oh, does anyone know what happened with Ulian’al?” John frowned, thinking about the most messy moment of the fight.

“It is… one of his cards,” joined in an older voice of Friala’el. “I believe… he saved his brother’s life by transferring the injury to himself,” she finished with an unexpected hitch in her voice.

Hmm, that would explain it, but why didn’t he mention that ability beforehand?

By the reactions of both Galan’il and Dilah’ec, it wasn't something expected and they were reluctant to speak about it.

“Let’s leave that conversation for later,” Friala’el added after a moment. “We should…”

[Attention!

Time until forced teleportation: 00:00:09]

A new screen popped up, informing them of the imminent end of the trial.

“I almost forgot…,” John paused and looked at each of the nearby teammates, “good job.”

They remained silent for a few seconds, taking it all in, until Dilah’ec smiled and shook her head, “I can’t believe it’s over.”

“Tell me about it,” Galan’il chuckled and a second later, the timer hit zero and everything went black.