The Dark Trials I

The courtyard was bathed in the fading light of dusk, casting long shadows over the gathered disciples. The Dark Trials had officially begun, and the weight of the moment pressed heavily upon the crowd. I could still feel the lingering adrenaline from my earlier match, the rush of having won—having proven I belonged here.

I took my seat, feeling the subtle shift in the air around me. The nobles and disciples stared, some with thinly veiled surprise, others with a newfound respect. I had done the unthinkable—won a match as an outsider, as someone meant for nothing but servitude.

Their silence spoke volumes.

As I settled into the stands, I let my eyes drift toward the next match. The names were called, pulling everyone's attention back to the stone platform.

"Ara Ma versus Seon Ma!"

Ara stepped forward, her body practically vibrating with anticipation. The youngest of the heirs, she had an unpredictable energy about her, always in motion, always one step ahead of her opponent. She specialized in the Ghost Step, a technique designed for speed and deception. She moved like smoke—here one second, gone the next.

Seon Ma, in stark contrast, moved slowly, deliberately. His calm demeanor exuded control, precision. He wasn't one for flashy techniques or unnecessary movement. His Black Fang Claw was a brutal, direct style—every strike lethal, every step calculated.

The elder raised his hand to begin the match.

Ara didn't waste a moment, immediately disappearing into the shadows. Her Ghost Step made her vanish from sight in an instant, her feet barely skimming the ground as she darted to Seon's left. She reappeared with her blades ready, aiming for his shoulder with a swift downward slice.

Seon's reaction was as quick as it was calculated. He shifted his weight onto his back foot, his body twisting away from her strike, making the attack glance harmlessly off the edge of his black robe. He retaliated, his hand snapping up in a sharp arc, black energy coiling around his fingers like fangs. The Black Fang Claw missed Ara by inches, but it forced her to backflip away, resetting her position.

Her eyes narrowed, lips curling into a smirk. She darted forward again, this time aiming for his legs with a low sweep. Her feet barely touched the ground as she moved in a blur, her dagger slicing through the air toward his knees.

Seon stepped back at the last second, his foot barely clearing her strike. He moved with eerie calm, his gaze locked onto Ara. His left leg shifted slightly, giving him the leverage he needed for the next move. With a sudden burst of speed, he twisted his body and brought his elbow down hard toward her exposed back.

But Ara was ready.

With a twist of her body, she dropped into a roll, using her momentum to evade the strike. The ground cracked beneath Seon's elbow as it missed her by a fraction of a second. She sprang back up, her stance light and bouncy, never staying in one place for too long.

The two circled each other, both waiting for an opening. The air between them crackled with tension. The crowd watched in silent anticipation, eyes wide as they witnessed the clash of two highly skilled fighters.

Ara attacked again, this time faster, more aggressive. Her dagger flashed toward Seon's throat, but he was faster, his arm snapping up to deflect the blow with the back of his hand. Their movements were a blur, each of them testing the other's limits.

Seon's eyes flickered with something close to amusement as Ara came at him again. This time, she was relentless, using the full force of the Ghost Step to outmaneuver him. She darted in and out, slashing at his sides, his arms, his legs. Each time, Seon blocked, his body twisting and shifting just enough to avoid taking damage.

But Ara wasn't deterred. She feinted a strike toward his ribs, causing Seon to shift to block. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she changed direction, her dagger now slicing toward his shoulder.

Seon's eyes widened—he hadn't anticipated the sudden shift. He barely managed to raise his arm in time, catching the blade on his forearm. The crowd gasped as blood bloomed across his sleeve, staining the dark fabric.

Ara grinned, her eyes flashing with triumph. But the victory was short-lived.

With a growl, Seon lunged forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. His fist shot out, glowing with dark energy, aiming for Ara's midsection. She tried to dodge, but she wasn't fast enough. His fist connected with her stomach, the force of the blow lifting her off her feet and sending her crashing to the ground.

Ara gasped for breath, clutching her abdomen as she tried to stand. But Seon wasn't done. He advanced on her, his movements swift and merciless. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he unleashed the full force of the Black Fang Claw, his fingers slicing through the air toward Ara's chest.

But at the last second, she rolled away, narrowly avoiding the strike. Seon's attack left a deep gouge in the stone platform where she had been moments before.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats now, eyes wide with anticipation.

Seon straightened, his expression calm once more, though there was a hint of frustration in his eyes. He glanced down at the blood on his arm, then back at Ara, who was struggling to get to her feet.

"Enough," he muttered, his voice low but filled with finality.

Ara tried to rise again, but her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed back onto the ground. The elder stepped forward, raising his hand to signal the end of the match.

"Seon Ma is victorious."

The crowd erupted in applause, but I barely noticed. My eyes were on Seon as he turned away from his fallen opponent, his face expressionless as always. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

This was the level I had to surpass.