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CHAPTER FOUR

"What did you do?"

The voice was low and dangerous, a warning growled through clenched teeth, echoing off the stone walls of the prison cell. The door creaked open, revealing a hulking figure framed in the doorway. A man of immense stature, his build like that of a titan, golden hair woven through with tattoos that seemed to connect to his brows. His piercing eyes gleamed with a manic intensity as they scanned the room. There was no mistaking the man standing before them was the Mastri.

It was Alexandri Pilter—The Iron Lion, once a hero in his prime, now a grim legend etched into the annals of history. He was a man with a story, a warrior who had fought alone for four days and nights against an overwhelming beastkin ambush to protect the city. Even after his comrades fell one by one, he held fast, waiting for reinforcements. The scars on his neck—a deep, four-streaked mark—served as a reminder of that day, a token of his bloody endurance.

The very name Alexandri struck fear into the hearts of men.

Shid, one of the two boys, was already shaking, his eyes wide with terror. He muttered under his breath, barely audible, "We didn’t do anything, Mastri."

Alexandri, unfazed by the fear in his eyes, stepped into the room, his gaze flicking over the remnants of a magic circle faintly burnt into the floor. He raised an eyebrow, a dark grin curling on his lips. “What’s this?” he murmured to himself, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

Al, the other boy, stood still, his posture tense, trying to conceal the remnants of the magic circle. He knew better than to make eye contact with the intimidating figure before him, but his mind raced. What was this man thinking?

"Hmm..." Alexandri’s voice came again, laced with an unsettling curiosity. "Impressive. The guards heard noises coming from here... and saw a burst of light reflecting out the window." He eyed them both carefully, as though he could see right through their facade.

He turned his attention to them fully, releasing a pressure so intense that it was almost tangible. It was his aura—heavy, suffocating, and raw. He had tested it before in the mines, but now, standing in this enclosed space, he unleashed it with all its ferocity.

But Al did not flinch. His gaze was steady. He had endured worse.

Shid, on the other hand, gasped for air, clutching his chest. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, struggling to breathe as the overwhelming pressure squeezed the life out of him. Al shot him a glance, but his focus remained on Alexandri, who seemed to watch with silent approval.

The pressure lifted, and Shid scrambled to his feet, still wheezing. Al knew better than to show weakness. Alexandri was testing them, trying to provoke a response, and Al was determined not to give him that satisfaction.

“Impressive,” Alexandri muttered again, his gaze settling on Al now. His eyes gleamed with a calculating sharpness, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“I knew my eyes weren’t deceiving me when I saw your fight in the mines... and now, less than two days later, you're already looking... different. Something’s changed.”

Al held his ground, unwilling to reveal the true extent of his growth. Even in the presence of this tower of a man he would overcome this challenge, channeling every ounce of courage and experience, he steadied his heartbeat because it would take one wrong move for things to go south. He wasn't the same boy who had entered the mines a few days ago, but the truth was, he was sure his strength would continue to grow even stronger than his past life.

Alexandri paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered something silently. He didn’t know much about Alcateen's physiology, but even he could tell it was impossible for a body to undergo such drastic changes in such a short time. The thought intrigued him.

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Interesting…” He muttered, half to himself, before walking toward the door. He nudged the boys lightly, his gaze briefly flicking back toward them. “Prepare yourselves.”

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“For what?” Al asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Then, catching himself, he adjusted his tone, his speech becoming more respectful, less direct. “What’s going to happen to us, Mastri?” he asked.

Alexandri turned without a second glance, his boots echoing in the silence of the cell. “You’re headed for the arena,” he said over his shoulder, his voice cold and final.

The cell door slammed shut behind him with a resounding clang. Al turned to Shid, whose face had gone pale, his eyes wide with dread.

"We finally made it out of the mines, but we're headed for the worst place of all—the arena," Shid muttered, his voice trembling with fear.

Al turned to his friend, his expression hardening. “You’re stronger than you look. Don’t forget that.”

The next day, the preparations were made. Al packed his few belongings, his thoughts racing. He’d miss the quarters, yes—the simple, quiet comfort of their temporary refuge—but there were far more important things at stake now. Questions that needed answers.

And the arena...

The arena was where everything would be decided.

--

As Alexandri rode in on horseback, the company set out toward the arena, their path taking them through the infamous Traekmire Forest, a place thick with fog and rumored to be teeming with both known and unknown beasts. The path they traversed was the safest route—discovered by adventurers long ago—but even that didn’t reassure Al.

Nightfall came, and under Alexandri's orders, they made camp. Tents were pitched, a fire was kindled, and the perimeter was secured. Two warrior slaves stood guard, while the rest of the company prepared food and settled in for the night. The quiet murmurs of the guards filled the air, but it felt... wrong. The forest was far too silent. Al felt it he could also tell their commander felt it. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog, more oppressive than the one that surrounded them.

Shid sat across from Al, watching him intently. He could see his friend was deep in thought, his mind focused. Al had been practicing his breathing techniques in the stillness of the night, pushing himself further than before. His body was holding more mana now—twice as much as before. The growth was significant, but Al was cautious. Alexandri’s eyes were always watching.

Suddenly, the silence shattered. A deep, unsettling quiet fell over the camp. The guards had stopped talking. There were no more sounds of movement.

Then came the growls.

Low at first. Unmistakable. They were surrounded.

Red glowing eyes pierced through the mist, and snarls grew louder. The creatures were closing in, their forms hidden in the fog. Al could feel it—their predatory hunger.

Before anyone could react, they emerged from the mist: dark hounds, their fur thick and black as a starless night sky, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent. Their razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the firelight, and their claws scraped the earth, hungry for blood.

The soldiers leaped into action, weapons drawn, but Alexandri was the first to engage. With brutal precision, he shattered the skulls of the hounds with his bare fists, sending the beasts flying. His strength was unparalleled, but his attention was divided. He spared a glance at the boys, letting a few of the beasts slip past him to test their abilities.

Al saw one coming for Shid, its mouth wide open, ready to tear into him. With a swift motion, Al pulled Shid out of harm’s way, slapping him to break his panic.

“Get it together!” he shouted, his voice sharp. “Believe in your strength. Act, don’t overthink it!”

Shid was still trembling, but Al didn’t give him time to dwell on his fear. He found a dagger and a sword, handed the sword to Shid, and whispered a sharpness spell on both blades. “You can do this. Just follow my lead.”

In a blur of motion, Al sliced through the air, his dagger finding its mark in a hound’s skull. The beast dropped like a sack of meat. Shid stood frozen for a moment, disbelief flashing across his face. But before he could react, another hound lunged at him. His body moved instinctively, his sword flashing in the air, decapitating the creature with one clean strike.

“Good,” Al muttered, nodding in approval.

But there was no time to celebrate. Another beast lunged at Shid, and before he could react, it was dead, its head severed in a single, decisive blow.

The fight raged on. The dark hounds were relentless, their numbers endless. But when the leader of the hounds emerged from the mist, everything shifted. This beast was bigger, more ferocious—its fur streaked with dark orange with shadow-like smoke emitting from its body, its presence dominating.

Al’s heart pounded in his chest. He had fought one of these beasts before, with his former party when they were just starting out. The memories flashed in his mind—his sword useless against its thick hide.

This time, however, he was alone.

The creature charged, and Al met it head-on. But his sword couldn’t penetrate its hide. It sent him flying, crashing into a tree with bone-shattering force. He spat out blood, his vision blurring. But he couldn’t afford to stay down. Not now.

He knew its weakness—the soft underbelly, the area just beneath its chest. He had to get close. He had to find a way and make sure it didn't use its ability to hide in the shadows when cornered.

His mind raced as he drew runes on the ground, but he needed to trap it, corner it before it could react. He muttered the words to activate a spell

"Ice Lance."

The creature dodged, but the spell grazed its side. Al saw his opportunity. He led the beast into a narrow space, activating a wind rune he had drawn on his boots in advance.

"Wind Dance!"

He moved with blinding speed, his body a blur. As the creature lunged, he unleashed his final spell—"Double Ice Lance."

The lances shot out, piercing the creature’s soft underbelly with unerring accuracy. The beast let out a final, anguished howl before crumbling to the ground, dead.

The remaining hounds scattered into the night, their leader gone. But Al’s victory came at a cost.

His body was exhausted. His mana depleted. He fell to his knees, the world spinning around him. His vision blurred, and before he could fully grasp the extent of his weariness, he collapsed, unconscious.

Shid’s voice was the last thing he heard before the darkness overtook him.

“Al! Al! No...”

The world went black.

When Al awoke, his body ached, his head spinning. He opened his eyes to find Shid kneeling beside him, tears streaming down his face.

"I’m glad you’re awake," Shid whispered, his voice breaking. "Welcome to the city of Omazu. We’re here."

Al blinked, confusion flooding his mind. The city. What had happened?

"You've been asleep for two days," said Shid. Looking ahead he was greeted by a site he never thought he'd see again, the beautiful city and the walls of the arena.

"Finally" he murmured.