Chapter 5: The Weight of Vengeance

Morning came slowly, dragging Elias back into consciousness like a cruel reminder that his reality hadn't changed. The ache in his chest was still there, his grief still gnawed at him, and his purpose—revenge—felt just as distant as it had the night before.

The small room was cold, the dim light seeping through the cracked wooden shutters casting long shadows across the floor. Elias sat up, running a hand through his unkempt hair, exhaustion still clinging to him.

Today, he needed answers. He needed to find the Trial.

The streets were just as busy as the night before, but the energy was different. Merchants arranged their goods in the morning light, calling out prices to passersby. Blacksmiths worked their forges, sending sparks flying as they shaped weapons for warriors who would risk their lives in the Trial. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat filled the air, but Elias barely noticed.

He kept moving, slipping between people, his head low. The city was a maze, but he needed to find someone—anyone—who could point him in the right direction.

It didn't take long before he overheard a conversation between two armored men standing outside a tavern.

"You hear about the new entrants for the Trial?" one asked, adjusting the leather strap of his sword. "Bunch of desperate fools, if you ask me. Half of 'em won't last the first day."

The other man scoffed. "They never do. The gods don't favor the weak. Only the strong earn their blessing."

Elias clenched his fists. The gods. Always the gods. Favoring the strong, letting the weak suffer. Just like they had let his family die.

He forced himself to approach them, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat. "Where do I sign up?"

The men turned to look at him. Their expressions shifted from curiosity to amusement.

"You?" one of them chuckled. "Boy, you don't even have armor. You think you're ready for the Trial?"

"I didn't ask if I was ready," Elias said coldly. "I asked where."

The humor drained from their faces. The taller of the two sighed, rubbing his temple as if dealing with an annoying child. "Fine. Head to the Colosseum. Follow the main road until you see the statues of the gods. That's where they take the sign-ups."

Elias didn't thank them. He just turned and walked away, his mind already set.

The Colosseum loomed in the distance, a massive structure of stone and iron, its towering walls adorned with carvings of battles long past. At its entrance stood grand statues of the gods—watching, judging, mocking.

Elias barely spared them a glance as he stepped inside.

A long hall stretched before him, filled with warriors, mercenaries, and desperate men looking for power. A few looked disciplined, trained for battle. Others were nothing more than scavengers, hoping to find a shortcut to strength. And then there were those like him—driven by something deeper, something darker.

At the far end of the hall, a desk was set up with a bored-looking official seated behind it, scratching names onto a parchment. A line had formed, and Elias took his place among the hopefuls.

As he waited, he could hear whispers among the warriors.

"They say this Trial is different. Harder than before."

"I heard an elemental god is watching this one. That can't be good."

"The Trials were never meant to be fair."

Elias listened but didn't react. He didn't care how hard it was. He didn't care which god watched. All that mattered was getting stronger.

His turn finally came. The official barely looked up as he asked, "Name?"

"Elias."

"Reason for entering?"

The question hung in the air. Some might have answered for wealth. Others, for glory. But Elias had neither of those things in mind.

"Vengeance."

The official raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply scratching Elias' name onto the list. "The Trial begins at dawn. Be ready."

Elias took a step back, his heart pounding.

This was it.

The first step toward making the gods bleed.

And he would not fail.