Maxwell sat in an empty locker room, his eyes closed and his breath sharp. He was nervous. He'd been so confident leading up to the day but now that it was here, the assurance of victory seemed weak. This was not his home. He was in foreign lands with not a single familiar face around him. He felt the looks he got whenever he was training in the Rider's grounds. They did not look at him like another man, rather they were looking at a creature. A dangerous animal they did not feel safe around. He had to win today but there seemed to be so many obstacles he never considered before. What if he slipped up? What if he got careless? What if he wasn't able to do the best he could? He drew another sharp intake of air, trying to calm the raging beat of his heart.

Despite all the stress, this was better than most of his kin had been forced to go through. He'd been given this opportunity when others weren't. If not for his cousin's influence, he would have become a slave. An unwilling soldier of the Royal Army, just like every single one in his family before him. That was why this meant so much to him. This was why he needed to win. He needed to be free.

The door opened slowly and a man ducked through the entrance, to prevent his head from knocking on the door frame. Maxwell was tall. The man was taller. The man was his Captain, Camden Dane. He was the one who would decide his fate. He was the Judge and Executioner of Maxwell's future. He hadn't thought he'd meet a non-Southerner to have possessed such great strength and his greatest worry was what if he met someone like Camden out in the Trials today? However, realistically, the odds were little to none. The man was a beast.

"Get ready, kid. The physical assessment is up first. I don't think you'll have much trouble..." The man trailed off as if wanting to say something but thought against it. "You'll win. The other Prospects don't have what you have."

They did not have strength like he did. There was none that could replicate the raw power of the South. Signified by red hair and olive skin, they came from the desert plains of the Human Realms. Magic ran through their muscles but muscles had their limit. That was why he trained and he put himself under pressure like he'd never had before. Yet there was still a slight doubt in his head that it would not be enough to win.

"Go out there and do what you do, kid. Remember to put on a show they won’t forget.”

The cheers were thunderous as he exited through the arena's big entrance and realized he was perhaps one of the last applicants entering the center stage. Like all infrastructure in the Lost, the arena was new and futuristic. The architecture was impressive and it was a shame he didn’t have the time to admire it.

The cold weather had disappeared the instant he stepped into the large colosseum. In fact, the heat was nearly blistering. It was a pleasant surprise and he felt a pang of homesickness as he stepped on the dunes of sand beneath his feat.

Maxwell had thought not a very large crowd would have gathered, especially considering it was fairly early in the morning. He'd been wrong. So many eyes were on him but he kept his expression neutral, a steely gaze scanning the competition.

This wasn't just a Test to see who would be selected as the Riders. This was a show. It was a spectacle. If the crowd saw the strength of the new generation, they would be assured of what the future held. That was the true purpose behind the Trials and it made the process all the more stressful for the young Southerner. He had to show that he wouldn’t crack under pressure. He had to show that he was confident.

He couldn't tell if the crowd was actually staring at him but the other applicants certainly were. They weren't discrete about it whatsoever and he suddenly felt very self-conscious. It was a familiar experience but it still made him highly uncomfortable. He kept his shoulders taut and his head held up high. He kept his gaze focused ahead and not on any person in particular. He couldn’t open up any chinks in his armor or they would all attack.

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The others looked restless. That was the scariest part of all of this. Maxwell had thought he could ignore most of his competition, only really having to worry about the other potential Prospects of the Captains.

That was before he saw the look in their eyes. They weren’t scared of him nor were they at all intimidated when they normally should have been. He was tall, packed with lean muscle and a fierce look in his eyes. They returned Maxwell’s gaze with a look just as fiery. There was hunger. There was drive. If he slipped up for just a moment, they’d be upon him. This was all or nothing for a lot of them and there was not a thing they wouldn’t do to become a Rider. To become Heroes of the Lost.

Finally a voice spoke through booming magical speakers that surrounded the arena.

“Hello my dear applicants! I am glad to say that we are now able to begin with everyone having joined us. I welcome you to the Day of the Trials! This is your chance to join our ranks as a Rider and do the Lost proud! Before we can get to the main event, we will be going through a few tests to assess your physical and mental abilities.”

He saw a woman up on a floating lectern. Her voice was commanding and all chatter was silenced the moment she began speaking. Cordessa Morricone. The Head of Management in the Rider’s ranks. She was scary.

“First, we will have a test of strength. Who would like to go first?” She asked, peering down into the group gathered before her. Immediately, hundreds of kids filed forward, clamoring at the chance to go first. Instead, Maxwell sat on the ground. There was no point in rushing forth when the results would be the same. He would be the strongest. This, he could be sure of.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm the raging storm within his mind. He needed to put it to rest and concentrate on the journey ahead. It would require everything he could muster. Minutes passed and he wasn’t sure how many as he sat quietly by himself.

He barely noticed the boy who took a seat next to him. He opened one eye and saw a face was covered by a tattered hood.

“You from the South? It’s been a while since I’ve seen your kind around here.” The words were blunt but no malice hid behind them.

“You sound like you’ve come across a Southerner before.” He remarked.

“I’ve beaten one in a fight before. Guy was pretty old though.” The boy’s witty reply made Maxwell chuckle, humoring him greatly.

“Why are you just sitting here?” He asked the boy.

“I could ask you the same question.” He could see the boy grin under his hood. “I found you interesting. You look strong. Think you can win this test of strength?” There was a hint of challenge within his tone.

“I think so. It would be a stain against my honor if I were to lose in a test of strength.” Maxwell sounded confident but he felt far from it. He could only hope he was right.

He’d prepared himself long enough. He stood, not waiting for a reply from the boy. He stepped forth through the crowd and they parted for him. They were curious. They wanted to see how strong a man of the South was. They wanted to see if he was beatable. He’d show them he was not.

Cordessa raised an eyebrow, recognising Maxwell as he stepped forward to the platform. In the center was a crystal of magic, pulsing with energy. She gestured for him to step closer towards the magical device.

“Place your hand on it. You need not do anything except squeeze the crystal with all your might. You may begin when you are ready.”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment and he closed his hand around the crystal, gripping with everything he had. The crystal pulsed faster and faster, light pouring out from it endlessly till it filled the entire arena in its illumination. A number flashed on the giant screens in front of him: 9700. Easily the highest number that had been achieved so far. He grinned. He’d been right. Cordessa nodded her approval but she didn’t seem impressed. He didn’t care though, he’d done it! He’d won!

The next applicant had already stepped up onto the platform and he realized it was the boy with the hood. He removed his hood to reveal a look that was unlike any he’d seen among his competition. It wasn’t drive or hunger, it was certainty. It was arrogance. It was pride.

“You should think again, redhead. This ain’t your test to win.” Before he could respond, the boy placed his hand on the crystal and squeezed. Without warning, the crystal exploded in a great combustion of blaze of radiance. It was so blinding that it caused Maxwell to stumble back, falling to the ground on his rear. Stars danced in his eyes as he fought to regain his vision. In front of him, the boy stood holding a shattered crystal. The screen flashed, numbers whirring before they came to a halt.

He’d broken the fucking machine.

The boy brushed off broken pieces of the crystal and stared down at Maxwell. There was again no real cruelty in the look he gave him which made it worse. He wasn’t just stronger than him. He was undeniably so. Winning this test of strength was something that would happen, regardless of Maxwell being here or not.

“I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Aramis Morricone, Duke of the Lost. Do not despair, you are strong.”

He had no need to say the true meaning his introduction carried.

Do not despair, you are strong. But I am the stronger.