Darkness—absolute and suffocating—pressed in from all sides, leaving only the desolate expanse of The Proving Grounds beneath Calder’s feet. He blinked, his vision adjusting to the barren platform. There was nothing here. No terrain, no cover, just an endless void beyond the edge of the stone.
An arena? Confusion flickered in his eyes, but the system afforded him no time for questions. Blue text flickered into existence, burning against the dark.
[The Ancient Ones: Trial 1]
[Objective: Eliminate the opponent.]
[Time Limit: 11:0]
[Countdown: 10, 10, 7...]
[Resistance: Physical 36% / Magic 39%]
As the timer hit zero, a pillar of searing holy light struck the far end of the arena. When the radiance faded, a multi-legged nightmare stood in its place.
"Centipede Fiend," Calder muttered, instantly recognizing the segmented horror.
[Centipede Fiend (Juvenile)]
[Level: 10]
[HP Regen: 4.0/sec]
[Immunities: Frost, Fire]
[Innate Ability: Blazing Aura (Passive) – Deals continuous fire damage to any attacker within a five-foot radius for 10s.]
This wasn't some bottom-tier scavenger from the Novice Trial. Even as a juvenile, the Centipede Fiend was a mid-tier powerhouse within The Eternal Dominion. If one of these were unleashed on an Azura Novice Zone, half the region would be reduced to The Unclaimed Wastes within hours.
The Azura humans were biologically pathetic, bottom-feeders in the cosmic hierarchy of four-dimensional stats. To bridge that gap, they didn't just need to level up; they needed to evolve, shattering their own biological limits through sheer violence.
"Starting with a Centipede Fiend... they aren't joking about the 'Trial of the Gods,'" Calder whispered, narrowing his eyes.
The beast let out a shrill, chittering screech. It seemed disoriented for a fraction of a second, but its many-faceted eyes quickly locked onto Calder. It began to coil and shift, its massive, bulging cyan eyes tracking him like a predator marking its next meal.
Suddenly, it lunged. Despite its six-meter frame, it moved with terrifying fluidity—a blur of chitin and legs. It was on him in an instant, its mandibles wide, jagged with serrated teeth, lunging for a killing bite.
"Blink!"
Calder didn't retreat. He stepped forward, leaning into the danger.
In the heartbeat before the mandibles snapped shut, his body vanished. He reappeared instantly atop the creature’s head. His right arm had already shifted, flesh and bone molding into the jagged edge of an Ossein Sword. He drove the blade down with everything he had, aiming for the soft spot behind the beast's armored skull.
The Fiend was fast. Sensing the threat, its long, serpentine body whipped around, attempting to coil around Calder and crush him in a lethal embrace, even as it took the hit.
Calder had seen this play a thousand times. He tapped his toe against the hard chitinous back, using the momentum to spring upward.
"Blink!"
He vanished again, slipping through the closing "noose" of the centipede's body. Reappearing on the ground beneath its underbelly, Calder swung the Ossein Sword in a wide, upward arc, targeting the softer thoracic plates.
CRACK!
The Ossein Sword shattered. The tip of the blade snapped off, spinning through the air.
The Fiend shrieked in fury, slamming its massive weight downward to flatten its pest. Calder blurred backward, a series of quick, rhythmic hops taking him out of the impact zone. He stared at the jagged stump of his right arm, a frown deepening on his face. This was the first time since his rebirth that the Ossein Sword had failed him.
"I underestimated its density," he murmured. "Fine."
The beast reared back, let out a piercing hiss, clearly frustrated by the human's "teleporting" antics.
Calder’s lips curled into a thin smile. Blink wasn't actually a skill—at least, not in the system's sense. It was a high-level combat technique, a masterclass in explosive acceleration and exploiting an enemy’s blind spots to create the illusion of instantaneous movement. It was a human-developed Martial Art, born of the desperation of a race that was physically outmatched by almost everything in the galaxy.
As the most powerful player of the Azura in his past life, Calder hadn't just mastered these techniques; he had helped invent them. They were etched into his soul, far deeper than any muscle memory.
With a wet, grinding sound, the Ossein Sword reformed, bone and sinew knitting together to create a fresh, razor-sharp edge. The beauty of the Aberrant Weaponform was simple: as long as he had the Blight Index to burn, his weapons were infinite.
The Centipede Fiend charged again, whipping its long body like a massive, armored flail. It had learned. It wasn't leading with its head anymore, but using its hardened carapace to batter him into pulp.
It was a mistake.
Calder didn't dodge this time. He planted his feet, his eyes turning cold and focused as he raised the bone blade.
"Steel Cleave!"
The sword hummed. Air whistled around the blade as it descended in a blinding flash. There was no sound of snapping bone this time—only the wet, shearing sound of a hot knife through butter. The Centipede Fiend’s massive body was neatly bisected.
Steel Cleave—another high-tier technique designed specifically to bypass natural armor by concentrating force into a single, microscopic point of impact. He hadn't needed it in the Novice Trials, where he could win with raw stats. But against a race with ten times his natural defense? It was mandatory.
The Fiend collapsed, thrashing in its own neon-green fluids.
-100!
-80!
-60!
Damage numbers spiraled over its head as its life force bled out onto the dark stone. Calder walked up to the dying beast. It looked at him, those bulging cyan eyes filled with a very human-like plea for mercy.
He felt nothing. He drove the Ossein Sword through its skull.
-200! (Critical Hit)
[Ding! Centipede Fiend (Juvenile) slain. Time: 1:30.]
[Evasion: 28%]
[Mana Regen: 1.0/sec]
Calder didn't retract the blade. He kept it embedded in the carcass, feeling the familiar pull of the Blight.
[Blight Index (Internal Organs): +5]
A satisfied smirk touched his lips. "That’s more like it. High-tier genes always provide better fuel."
The Novice Trial monsters were genetic trash—dead ends on the evolutionary tree. This Centipede Fiend was pure, concentrated energy. Once the corpse was a withered husk, the system chime returned.
[Trial 1 Complete. Class Offered: Berserker (Affinity Score: 65). Accept?]
[Mana Regen: 2.9/sec]
[Move Speed: 3.1/sec]
Affinity 65? For the Trial of the Gods?
Calder’s expression soured. A Berserker was a B-tier class at best, barely better than the generic "Warrior" he’d started with in his previous life.
"Reject," he said coldly.
[The Ancient Ones: Trial 2]
[Objective: Eliminate the opponents.]
[Time Limit: 11:0]
[Countdown: 11, 9, 7...]
[Mana Regen: 2.4/sec]
[HP Regen: 3.3/sec]
Ten silhouettes shimmered into existence on the Proving Grounds. Calder’s eyes widened slightly.
[Primori Mantikind]
[Level: 10]
[Innate Abilities: 1. Dark Vision; 3. Perception; 2. Stealth]
[Mana Regen: 0.5/sec]
These weren't monsters. In the Eternal Dominion, the Mantikind were a localized civilization, just like the Azura. Most trials used mindless beasts; The Ancient Ones, however, clearly preferred pitting "civilized" races against each other.
"They've got a twisted sense of humor," Calder noted.
Individually, a Mantikind was weaker than the Centipede Fiend. However, they were intelligent. They had been part of the Eternal Dominion longer than humans, and they started with two more innate abilities than the average Azura player.
The Mantikind chattered in a clicking, rhythmic language. The system’s universal translator was silent—disabled for the trial. They spread out instantly, their Twin-Fang Blades held in a professional guard.
Trying to keep me from cheating with diplomacy? Calder chuckled. As if.
"Sss-sss!"
With a blur of movement, seven of the Mantikind vanished into the shadows of the Proving Grounds, utilizing their Stealth ability. The remaining three stayed in the light, slowly closing in to draw his focus.
They lunged simultaneously, blades whistling toward his throat.
"Shift!"
Calder’s arms didn't just turn into swords—they exploded outward into six separate Chain Scourges. The bone-links lashed out in a chaotic, silver storm.
Clang! Clang-clang-clang!
The sounds of metal hitting bone didn't happen three times. They happened ten.
The invisible Mantikind had been mid-lunge, expecting an easy kill while Calder was distracted by their comrades. They hadn't realized that to a veteran like Calder, Stealth was a joke. He didn't need eyes; he could feel the displacement of air, the scent of their pheromones, and the vibration of their chitinous feet on the stone.
"Too slow," Calder sneered. "Let’s finish this."
"Steel Cleave!"
The six chains stiffened, their tips glowing with a dull, lethal light. They whipped around in a coordinated spiral, contracting like a closing trap.
Splat. Splat. Splat.
The spiked ends of the scourges punched through the chests of the hidden Mantikind, dragging them out of shadows as their hearts were pulverized.
The survivors shrieked in rage, abandoned their formation, and charged in a desperate frenzy. Calder didn't even use his arms. He lifted his legs, which had already undergone an Aberrant Shift into single-edged blades. He spun—a whirlwind of bone and steel—and opened their throats in a single, fluid motion.
[Ding! 10x Primori Mantikind slain. Time: 1:58.]
[Evasion: 23%]
[Stamina: 188/195]
It was a massacre. Calder had spent years slaughtering Mantikind legions in his past life; these Level 10 novices never stood a chance. He didn't hesitate to "clean up," plunging his scourges into the bodies to drink.
[Right Leg Blight Index: +0.2]
[Left Arm Blight Index: +0.1]
The numbers were small, but the progress was real. Every drop mattered.
[Trial 2 Complete. Class Offered: Battle Monk (Affinity Score: 62). Accept?]
[Mana Regen: 1.4/sec]
[Move Speed: 5.6]
An A-tier class. Strong, reliable, and far better than his old life's build. But for Calder?
"Still trash," he muttered. "Reject."
[The Ancient Ones: Trial 3]
[Objective: Eliminate the opponents.]
[Time Limit: 10:0]
[Countdown: 11, 8, 8...]
[Mental Resistance: 69]
RIBBIT.
A wet, guttural croak echoed across the platform.
Dozens of grey, upright-standing toads materialized. Their skin was a landscape of oozing pustules and jagged bone-spurs. Instead of webs, their fingers ended in obsidian-black claws. Their eyes were filmed over with a milky, malicious film.
[Lyla Death Toads]
[Level: 10]
[Innate Abilities: 2. Caustic Spew; 1. Sonic Burst; 4. Blind Gaze]
[Resistance: Physical 30% / Magic 35%]
They didn't wait. Their throats swelled like grotesque balloons.
BWAAAA-RUM!
The Sonic Burst hit Calder like a physical wall. He wasn't fast enough to outrun sound. His eardrums shattered instantly, blood spraying from his ears and nose. His vision blurred into a red haze as his equilibrium vanished.
The damage was massive—nearly half his health bar evaporated in a single volley. The toads didn't stop; their throats were already swelling again, preparing for a second, even more powerful wave.
Calder spat out a mouthful of blood, his teeth bared in a feral grin through the pain. "Now we're talking."