Chapter 4: The First Trial

The sky was chaos incarnate.

Lightning danced like serpents across the clouds, splitting the heavens with every crack. Winds howled from all directions, twisting into tornados of raw, divine energy. And in the center of it all stood Ravoth, his colossal form framed by the storm he commanded.

Arius barely had time to think before another bolt shot toward him. He rolled again, dirt and sparks exploding in his wake. Every strike left craters in the marble floor, glowing with divine heat.

"I WILL SHATTER YOU!" Ravoth roared, raising both hands to the sky. Thunder followed his every word like applause.

Arius's lungs burned. His arms ached. His sword—his grandfather's old blade—was chipped and flickering with unstable light. He wasn't just fighting a god… he was fighting the idea of a god. A being worshiped for centuries, feared in songs and storms alike.

And yet…

He wasn't losing.

Not yet.

Every time Ravoth struck, Arius moved. Not with practiced grace, but with something deeper. Instinct. Memory. As if his body remembered things his mind had never learned.

He ducked under a burst of lightning, spun on his heel, and slashed upward. His blade connected—not with flesh, but with a barrier of raw wind. Ravoth staggered a step, surprised.

"You have power," the god grunted. "But not control."

Arius gritted his teeth. "Then I'll learn the hard way."

He drove his sword into the ground again—this time, not to anchor himself, but to call upon the energy humming beneath the arena's surface.

And it answered.

A golden light erupted from beneath his feet, spiraling up his arms, across his chest, forming glowing runes along his skin. His eyes blazed, and in that moment, the crowd of gods above leaned forward—some in shock, others in fascination.

"What is this?" whispered a silver-skinned goddess with a crescent halo. "He's awakening already?"

Arius felt it too. Power. Lineage. Legacy.

His feet lifted an inch off the ground. His sword, once cracked and mundane, now gleamed with celestial light. A whisper—no, a chorus of whispers—echoed in his ears. The voices of ancestors. Of divinity.

"Stand, Heir of Stars," they said. "You are not alone."

He surged forward, faster than lightning. Ravoth raised a wall of wind to stop him—but Arius cut through it with a shout, the force of his swing splitting the air.

CLANG!

Their weapons collided—Ravoth's hammer of storm-forged iron against Arius's newly awakened blade. The force sent shockwaves through the arena, shaking even the divine spectators.

For a heartbeat, they were locked.

And in that heartbeat, Arius looked into Ravoth's burning eyes.

And Ravoth… hesitated.

"You're not just a mortal," the storm god growled, voice low, almost… respectful.

Arius pushed harder. "I'm your future."

With a final cry, Arius unleashed a blast of radiant energy that sent Ravoth flying backwards, crashing into the wall of the arena with a deafening explosion of light and thunder.

Silence followed.

Arius dropped to one knee, breathing hard, steam rising from his body. His arms trembled. His sword sizzled in his grip, still glowing faintly.

Then—

The crowd erupted.

Roars of approval, shocked gasps, some even standing in disbelief. A few gods nodded in acknowledgment. Others scowled.

But one figure in particular—a tall, cloaked god seated at the center of the divine council, his face hidden beneath a mask of black glass—leaned forward, resting his chin on a gloved hand.

"The heir has awakened," he whispered. "This… will be interesting."

Ravoth, groaning, rose to his feet. His armor cracked, his body sparking. But he grinned.

"You passed," he said, pounding his chest. "Not many do. You've earned your place here… Arius of Thaloria."

Arius blinked. "You're not going to smite me for that last hit?"

Ravoth laughed—a deep, rumbling laugh that seemed to shake the clouds. "Kid, if you hit harder, I might've."

With that, he vanished into a burst of wind and lightning, leaving Arius alone in the center of the arena. The gate opened again—this time, not to unleash a god, but to welcome him deeper into the divine world.

The envoy reappeared, now with a second figure beside him—tall, slender, with eyes like twin moons.

Arius turned to him, wiping blood from his lip. "What now?"

The envoy smiled faintly. "Now? Now, you begin your training."

The other figure stepped forward, extending a hand.

"I'm Lysaria," she said. "Champion of the Crescent Court. I'll be your mentor… if you survive long enough."

Arius took her hand, breath still ragged, but eyes burning.

"I've waited my whole life for this."