Chapter 40- The Feral Meet Cute

The final hour of Trial Two was not for the weak.

The obstacles had shifted again. What started as enchanted puzzles and physical challenges had escalated into soul triggered horrors that twisted the very fabric of reality. You didn't just fight shadows. You faced your own nightmares in flesh.

And some didn't make it.

But she did.

She, with bark thick skin etched in mossy vines and eyes like glowing emerald wildfire.

She, with clawed fingers wrapped in thorns and blood and sap and fury.

She, with a name whispered only in the oldest forests.

Masaila.

A 400 year old dryad. Powerful enough to crack the bones of the earth itself, and barely clinging to sanity.

She moved through Trial Two like a storm with tits and a vengeance.

She didn't solve riddles. She growled at them until the magic bent to her will.

She didn't cross the bridge of sacrifice. She tore it off its hinges and used it as a weapon to beat back the soul eaters waiting beyond.

And when a cursed chimera rose from the mud in her final test, it lasted six seconds before she wrapped it in vines and shattered its skull with her bare fists.

Every drone on Faenet swiveled to follow her.

💬 "WHO THE FUCK IS THAT???"

💬"My gender is now dryad rage monster."

💬"Masaila 2025. I would vote, kill, or die for her."

And somewhere else, also in that trial, another beast of legend was tearing through obstacles like he'd been born for this chaos.

Thorne.

His eyes were blood red, glowing like twin moons of madness, his body stained in enemy ash and sweat and the taste of challenge. He hadn't spoken once. Hadn't blinked. Just moved with terrifying grace through every part of the gauntlet like it was child's play.

And then....

Just as the blaring horn rang out across the field, signaling the end of Trial Two...

They collided.

Literally.

Masaila came barreling through the final clearing like a freight train of rage and vine and boobs, and Thorne stepped into her path with fangs bared and fire in his bones.

There was a grunt. A snarl. And a sudden, bone snapping CRASH as two of the oldest, most unhinged, and dangerously hot ferals in the entire kingdom smashed into each other chest first and hit the fucking dirt.

Time stopped.

Power coiled.

The arena went quiet as Faenet zoomed in like hungry vultures.

They stared at each other.

Breathing heavily.

Snarling softly.

Confused.

And then....

A tiny missile of sea colored hair and fae fury launched from the sky.

"THORNE YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU'VE GOT A SECOND MATE AND SHE'S HOTTER THAN HELL!"

Lerenya, glowing and sparkling and unhinged, crashed into both of them with the force of a tiny, curvy meteor, sending all three sprawling into a heap of limbs, bark, vines, fangs, and moans.

Thorne roared.

Masaila growled.

Lerenya giggled and grabbed Masaila's face.

"Oh my gods you're so hot, I could cry. Thorne, baby, meet your other psycho girlfriend!"

Thorne's fangs extended fully. His pupils dilated. His hands gripped the dirt as his magic surged.

Masaila looked down at her chest, currently pressed to Lerenya's, and then at Thorne, who was still kneeling between them with a look that said I could fuck both of you or die trying.

And she smiled.

A wild, dark, ancient smile.

"Finally," she rasped. "Someone feral enough to survive me."

Faenet lost its damn mind:

💬"THE POWER TRIO I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED."

💬"Thorne's gonna die of happiness or dehydration."

💬"Lerenya: MVP of matchmaking."

💬"Did that dryad just purr???"

Back on the royal viewing platform, Rhiannan let out a high pitched squeal and nearly fell off her cushion.

Liam caught her mid waddle. "You okay?"

"I think I just witnessed the hottest mate pile in history."

"Do we... send them a fruit basket?"

"Send them a bathtub. And a warning."

The horn blared once more, this time with a heavy, soul deep echo that told everyone on that scorched, trampled battlefield the second trial was over.

The shields began to shimmer, retracting slowly from around the arena like curtains falling after the final act. Magic buzzed through the air. Ash and sweat hung thick as breath. Cheers erupted across the stands. Cries of victory. Sobs of loss. Echoes of glory.

And then, Sasha's voice, smooth and commanding, echoed through every skull.

"Trial Two is complete. Please stand by for final results."

On Faenet and across the field, everyone held their breath.

Rhiannan stood with effort, belly prominent, heart thudding, flanked by Elisha and Liam. Her hand gripped the railing as Sasha's glowing construct flickered into the center of the arena, voice firm and solemn.

"Out of 375,000 trial entrants… the results are as follows."

A hush fell over the world.

"Five souls have fallen in combat. Their names will be etched in stone and their stories remembered in the halls of the Divine Citadel. They gave everything. May their spirits find peace in the Everrealm."

Rhiannan's hand pressed to her chest. All across Faenet, tribute videos and digital candle flames ignited instantly, comments flooding with prayer hands and crying emojis.

Sasha continued.

"280,000 contestants have not passed Trial Two. However, you have successfully completed Tier One qualifications. You will now be placed in Tier One army positions alongside the 50,000 who chose to remain. You are still warriors of the kingdom. You are still vital. And your service begins immediately."

The ground shifted. New banners rose. Purple and gold, marked with the Tier One sigil. Kaleb and Arwen stepped forward into view, commanding presences radiating leadership.

"Report to us after you exit the field," Arwen shouted. "You'll receive your assignments, rank placement, and barracks housing tonight."

Kaleb added, "This is just the beginning. Some of you may still climb the ranks. Every soldier matters. Every weapon counts. And your Queen is fucking proud of you!"

Rhiannan raised her fist high and let out a war cry that had her children kicking wildly inside her.

"RHIANNAN FOR LIFE, BITCHES!!"

The roar that followed could've shaken mountains.

Sasha gave them a moment before finishing.

"And now… the elite. The chosen. The Tier Two warriors."

Every screen lit up in gold.

"Forty five thousand souls have passed Trial Two. You will receive your encrypted code from me in the next hour. Use your SmartBrain to confirm your readiness for Trial Three. You are the highest tier of combatant in this realm. Your names will be entered into the Book of Blood and Bone. Your destinies… are just beginning."

Faenet fucking exploded.

💬"WE PASSED!! CODE ME QUEEN SASHA!!!"

💬"Tier Two squad LET'S GO!!!"

💬"Bro I got chills. Literal gooseflesh. Rhiannan screamed and my crops flourished."

Sasha's final words carried over the air, soft but firm.

"Rest well. Eat well. And be ready. Tomorrow, we begin the Trial of Unity. And only the strongest hearts will rise."

By sundown, the castle's main hall was bursting with light, laughter, and enough noise to wake the gods. Tables lined every wall, stacked high with roasted meats, fresh bread, mountains of fruit, and enough dessert to give a dragon diabetes. Goblets clinked, magic swirled lazily through the air like glittery mist, and even the most uptight guards had loosened up enough to undo a button or two.

Rhiannan was front and center, propped up in her queen's chair with three pillows under her swollen belly, a glass of apple cider in hand, and the glow of absolute chaos surrounding her.

Liam leaned over and grinned. "You realize they're worshiping you now, right? Like full blown goddess status."

"Damn right they are," she said, biting into a mango. "And you're all lucky I'm too pregnant to start twerking on this table."

Elisha choked on his drink. "Please don't. I will breathe fire if someone makes you slip."

Kaleb was already up, raising his glass. "To Trial Two! To the 45,000 badasses who made it, and the 330,000 others who didn't but still showed the hell up!"

"TO WAR MOMS AND WARRIOR BABIES," Mo bellowed, standing on a chair.

Riven, leaning dramatically against the wall, added, "And to my ass, which has never looked better on Faenet."

"Confirmed," Mela muttered, patting it.

Laughter broke out everywhere.

Reyna cleared her throat and tapped her stylus against a glowing scroll. "While y'all are losing brain cells, some of us are shaping the fucking kingdom."

"Boooo," Mo groaned. "Let us be stupid for ten more minutes."

"Nope," Gailia chimed in, her arms full of two chubby, sleepy baby girls. "Royal Council is already sorting through applicants for the Noble Trials. We launch in five days, remember?"

Soris nodded solemnly from the shadows, arms folded. "The threads are already shifting. They're coming fast. We need housing immediately."

Iriel, glowing faintly in his silver robes, muttered, "And maybe screening for emotional stability."

Bruxxa, mouth full of venison, snarled, "I'll handle background checks. If they smell like traitors, I'll leash them."

"What does a traitor smell like?" Barrick asked from further down the table, his three nymph mates lounging around him like smug woodland queens.

"Rotten hope and damp socks," Bruxxa replied flatly.

Zaiya, draped in black leather and smug satisfaction, raised a brow. "Sexy."

Kazra, swirling a flaming cocktail, added, "You had me at damp."

Veena chuckled, Caelira and her phoenix guard mate lounging behind her like a sun god and goddess. "Can we not traumatize the hopefuls before they arrive?"

Rhiannan smirked and pointed her fork at Mo, Mela, and Riven. "I need y'all to grab some mages and builders first thing in the morning. I want a whole temporary apartment structure by the edge of the forest. These Noble Trial people need comfort. Maybe a garden. Definitely soundproof walls."

Mo saluted with a breadstick. "Yes, ma'am."

"Can I decorate it?" Mela asked sweetly.

"Please don't," said literally everyone.

Rhiannan held back a laugh, then glanced toward Arwen and Kaleb, who were glowing with excitement.

"Tell us how you really feel about your big ass death maze," she teased.

Kaleb leaned forward. "It's going so well. Like, too well. I thought we'd have to baby these people but they're fucking vicious."

Arwen grinned. "We had one contestant build a siege weapon out of moss and guilt."

"I liked the chick who turned her trauma into a spear," Sable muttered, swirling his wine. "That's a woman who gets it."

Rhiannan sighed, warmth pulsing through her chest. "Y'all… this kingdom is real. This is happening. We're building a new fucking world, and it's full of weirdos and warriors and cinnamon rolls with rage issues."

"Sounds like a dream," Elisha murmured, kissing her temple.

The feast carried on into the night. Laughter echoed. Plans were made. Bellies were filled. Allies bonded. Lovers stole glances and kisses under floating candles. The scent of roasting meat mixed with sugar and magic and something distinctly hopeful.

Eventually, one by one, the crew headed to bed.

Some went in pairs. Some in threes. One in fours. No one asked questions.

And Rhiannan, cradled between her mates, belly warm, cheeks flushed, whispered,

"Tomorrow's gonna be chaos."

Liam grinned. "Good. We were born for it."