Darnell walked alone out of the first-year building and into the dim evening air, his steps echoing against the stone pavement as he headed toward the structure that stood like a boundary—an aged and silent building separating the first years from the second. It was a place he never wished to revisit, but tonight, something compelled him.
He entered without hesitation, the wooden doors creaking ominously behind him as they closed. The faint hum of silence filled the narrow hallways as he passed through, the air growing colder with each step. He turned twice, following a path he knew all too well, until he reached an old storage room at the end of the corridor.
Without wasting time, Darnell made his way to the center of the room, where a faint crack in the flooring marked a hidden hatch. He bent down, fingers trembling slightly, and pried it open. The scent of dust and mildew rushed up to greet him.
Revealed beneath was a stairway shrouded in darkness—an unseen void beneath the academy's surface.
Darnell stared down into the blackness, his expression clouded with worry and pain. His breathing slowed, chest tightening as doubt gnawed at his mind.
Why am I doing this again…? he asked himself silently.
But he already knew the answer.
Despite every instinct telling him to turn back, he lowered himself into the stairwell and pulled the hatch shut behind him, sealing off the light from above.
The descent was slow. Each footfall echoed through the unseen abyss below, tapping against the stairs like rhythmic drums in a forgotten tomb. The silence grew heavier, and for a while, it felt like there was no end—just an endless plunge into a pit of regret.
Eventually, he reached the bottom. The ground beneath him was cold and firm, and before him stretched a void—an expansive darkness that seemed to swallow everything.
Yet, he wasn't lost.
He knew exactly where to go.
He kept walking, pushing forward through the vast empty chamber until he reached a tall wall. Embedded within it was a single, human-sized door. His palm, slick with sweat, grasped the cold iron knob. He twisted it slowly until he heard a satisfying click, and then pushed it open.
Light spilled out.
The first thing Darnell saw was the flickering glow of wooden torches, casting dancing shadows over an ancient, stadium-like facility. The arena resembled something out of a medieval age—its design crude, yet intimidating.
There weren't many spectators, only a few students dressed in second-year uniforms, slouched in the higher tiers of the audience. Their eyes were glued to the center ring, where two Summoners—clearly first-years—battled each other with everything they had.
Their summons clashed violently in the air, as their human counterparts fought in the dirt below. Darnell could immediately tell they weren't fighting by choice. Both boys were in casual clothes, bloodied and exhausted, with desperation in their eyes.
One of the first-years tackled the other to the ground, pinning him and raining punches down on his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struck again and again.
And the second-years?
They just laughed.
Darnell's fists clenched, and a shred of sympathy crossed his hardened features. This wasn't a test. It wasn't training. It was cruel.
He stepped forward, moving closer to the ring, though careful not to be pulled into the combat. As soon as he entered view, a bell rang loudly overhead. The sharp clang echoed across the arena, and the fighting stopped.
"Thank God!!!" one of the battered students cried, dismissing his summon and stumbling past Darnell, his hands covering his face in shame and horror.
The other boy—more injured—rose shakily to his feet. His legs barely supported him, and he staggered out of the ring before collapsing against the far wall.
Then a voice roared from above, loud and theatrical.
"Look who we have here, everyone!"
All heads turned to see Ashen standing on the upper platform, a twisted grin on his face and a crown atop his head, as though he truly believed himself a king.
"The deviant has returned to pay his dues to the Blood Trials."
The crowd burst into laughter. Some even clapped mockingly.
The Blood Trials—a barbaric underground contest run in secret by the second years. First-year students were kidnapped or manipulated into joining, forced to fight their own for the sadistic entertainment of those above them.
Darnell had once been dragged into it. And now, he was back… by choice.
"You remember the rules, don't you?" Ashen called down.
Darnell nodded, a strained grin stretching across his face despite the turmoil boiling within.
One of the second-years stood up and began descending the steps toward the ring. As he entered the center, Darnell's heart skipped.
It was Radek.
Massive. Brutal. Unchanged.
Seeing the smugness in Radek's expression filled Darnell with a sharp sense of fury—but also fear. He remembered what had happened last time. The merciless beating. Ashen stepping in at the last second to stop Radek. The deal that followed.
Beat Radek… and your friends will never be harmed again.
That was the promise Ashen made. And that was why Darnell returned.
He couldn't risk anyone else getting involved. He had to finish this. Alone.
"Come at me! This time I'll win!" Darnell shouted, his voice ringing with fire.
He activated his Beast Integration, his body shifting slightly as energy surged through him. Taking a firm stance, he launched forward with blinding speed, zig-zagging to confuse Radek.
And just like before—
CRACK!
Darkness.
Then light.
Darnell's eyes snapped open.
He was lying flat on his back in the middle of the arena. The torches still flickered on the walls, but the stadium was empty. No second years. No Radek. Nothing but silence.
It must've been curfew. They had all left.
Darnell sat up, pain hammering through his skull. He grunted, barely able to stand.
"That bastard…" he hissed.
"How in hell... how in hell do I beat a fucking bastard that knocks me out faster than I can react!"
Frustration overtook him. He trashed around, kicking at the dirt, swinging fists at the air as he screamed in silence.
Eventually, the rage settled.
Breathing heavily, he turned and began walking out of the arena. On his way, he spotted the same first-year from earlier, still unconscious by the wall.
Darnell knelt beside him, checked his pulse, then lifted the boy over his shoulder and carried him through the passageways. He emerged from the hidden building and made his way to the academy hospital.
Silver, the head nurse, greeted him with concern.
"You should stay, Darnell," she said softly, her eyes filled with worry.
"I can't," he muttered, brushing her off.
Seeing he wouldn't change his mind, Silver gave him a small vial—a potion that would speed up the healing of his Summoner body.
He took it, muttered a quiet thanks, and walked out into the night.
Eventually, he reached his room.
Opening the door slowly, Darnell glanced at his friends. Both were asleep in their beds, undisturbed. Thankfully unharmed.
He lingered there, eyes on them for a moment, guilt knotting in his chest.
I can't tell them... If they knew, they'd fight back. And that would only get them hurt.
He turned away and walked toward his own bed, the weight of the day pressing down on him. His body ached in every corner. His heart, even more.
Just for now, I have to bear it all… until I'm strong enough.
What is a man who can't even protect his friends…?
He collapsed face-first onto the bed, exhausted beyond words.
Unbeknownst to him, Kairos had his eyes slightly open, watching quietly from across the room. He had noticed Darnell's return… and the fresh injuries.
He clenched the covers between his fingers.
What are you doing, Darnell? And why are you hiding it from us…?