Chapter 45- The Worthy

The third trial was war.

The battlefield was transformed into a brutal arena of stone and steel, the terrain shifting every ten minutes thanks to Sasha's simulations. One moment it was an icy wasteland, the next a volcanic ravine, then a jungle thick with choking vines and razor sharp leaves. Booby traps were hidden everywhere. No one was safe.

From her perch high above, Rhiannan sat in a reinforced crystal throne, her belly round and tight, her fingers clenched around the armrests. Her mates flanked her, tense and watchful. Sasha had surrounded them in a dome of transparent energy for protection, but it didn't muffle the sound. Screams. War cries. The clash of steel. The hiss of spells. It echoed through her bones.

FaeNet was an explosion of chaos.

👤@SwordBitchJules: Holy fuck she just CUT A DUDE IN HALF with a vine whip. GO OFF DRYAD QUEEN

👤@OrcDaddyThrust: 300 gold on the bald minotaur with the club. That dude is terrifying.

👤@PixieSnack87: WHERE IS MY GAY ELF SNIPER I SWEAR TO THE GODDESS IF HE DIES!

Azarion kept rubbing her shoulders. Liam passed her fruit. Elisha was pacing like a dragon in a cage.

"Three hours," Rhiannan muttered. "Three godsdamned hours of this madness."

"They're proving they're ready," Kaleb said, his voice hard and proud through the com. "This is what it takes."

Rhiannan's eyes were locked on the bloodied field. So many were holding their ground, pushing through pain, rage, and exhaustion. She could feel their desperation. Their courage. Their fucking will to build something better.

A gladiator ring of dreams.

She spotted Thorne ripping through a group of bandits with brutal efficiency. Lerenya and Masaila were close behind, their bond magic glowing like a beacon as they fought back to back. Masaila let out a feral scream and launched a spear of vines into a charging ogre's chest.

"That bitch is terrifying," Mela whispered beside her. "I love her."

Mo was live commentating again.

💬"AND THAT'S ANOTHER DOWN FOR TEAM FERAL. I repeat, Team Feral is not here to make friends, they are here to MURDER."

Contestant POV – Jaevin, Ironwood Sentinel

Jaevin's leg was bleeding badly, but he didn't stop. His forest wrought blade was slick with blood, his breath ragged. He ducked under a fireball, rolled across a patch of thorns, and drove his blade into a stone guardian's weak point. The statue shattered. Cheers erupted around him.

He glanced at the glowing countdown rune.

Nine minutes left.

"Just a little more," he grunted.

He wasn't fighting for glory. He was fighting for his village. His parents. His little sister who wanted to grow up in a world where war wasn't the only option.

Contestant POV – Daela, Bloodmire Witch

Daela's robes were torn. Her staff cracked. Her magic was nearly spent.

But her eyes burned with vengeance.

She had taken down four enemy squads with one blight burst and summoned a gravebloom to finish the last brute who'd tried to stab her in the back. Her body ached. Her hands trembled. But she stood tall.

"I didn't survive the Bloodmire Plague to die in a fucking trial," she muttered.

As the final horn blared, the field stilled.

Bloodied warriors dropped to their knees. Cries of pain and triumph filled the air. Sasha's drones descended, scanning survivors.

Rhiannan stood slowly.

"We build our kingdom on the blood of the worthy," she whispered. "And every one of them just proved they fucking belong."

FaeNet went wild.

The dust finally settled.

Three grueling trials. Hundreds of thousands of souls. And only sixty two remained.

Rhiannan stood from her seat at the edge of the battlefield, her belly heavy and her heart fuller than ever. Her glowing gaze swept over the scorched training grounds where the last of the Trial of Valor had ended just minutes ago. Blood soaked the soil. Steam rose in eerie wisps. The crowd still roared.

Sasha's voice cut across the field.

"Out of the forty five thousand that entered trial three, sixty two have passed."

Gasps. Screams. Cheers. Chaos.

"From these sixty two, one shall rise as General. One as Warden. And sixty others will be appointed as officers, six per squad across ten squads. The remaining warriors will join Tier One military ranks and receive enhanced pay and leadership training. Advancement is not just possible, it's expected."

Rhiannan placed a hand on her belly as the triplets kicked violently, almost as if they were excited too. She laughed under her breath.

"Thorne, Masaila, and Lerenya all made it," Liam muttered beside her, pride in his voice.

"No shit," Rhiannan said with a grin. "Those three are fucking monsters. In a good way."

Faenet exploded with commentary, everyone losing their minds trying to guess who would become the General. Bets were flying. Memes were already being posted. One featured Mo holding a banana like a sword with the caption, Let me in the army, I got potassium.

Rhiannan made her way to the center dais, Azarion helping her up gently. Her voice rang out, magically amplified.

"To our champions. You've bled, broken bones, and proven your worth to the goddess and your realm. You are the elite. Tonight, we feast. Tomorrow, you will know your ranks. The Noble Trials begin in two days. Rest well. Fight harder. And remember....your strength builds our kingdom."

She ended with a wink at the closest camera. Faenet went wild again.

As her feet hit the stone path, the triplets kicked with renewed fury.

"They are not happy I just made a royal speech while standing up," Rhiannan hissed.

Sereth appeared at her side instantly, with Kaelith and Brimma flanking.

"Let's get you back to your chambers, My Queen," Kaelith said calmly.

"You're not going into labor, are you?" Mo asked nervously, trotting up with Mela and Riven in tow.

"No," Rhiannan muttered. "Probably. Maybe. Possibly. I don't fucking know."

The nannies whisked her away like a royal storm cloud, her mates close behind, leaving the field in chaos and celebration.

Tomorrow, they would choose their leaders.

And soon... war would come.

Rhiannan groaned as another sharp twinge struck low in her belly. Lady Kaelith was already at her side, palms glowing a soft green as she pressed them gently over the swelling curve of Rhiannan's stomach.

"It's not time yet, My Lady," Kaelith said soothingly. "False labor, but very close. A week at most, maybe days."

"Fucking hell," Rhiannan muttered, flopping back against her pillows.

Sereth knelt nearby, book of fate open and eyes glowing faintly. "The timeline is converging. We'll be ready."

Brimma snorted from the corner, clutching a basket of enchanted toys. "Just don't sneeze too hard, or we'll be delivering triplets in the garden."

Azarion scooped Rhiannan into his arms, ignoring her grumbles. "Bath. Now."

Liam, Elisha, and Sable followed as Azarion carried her to the marble bathing chamber. Steamy rose scented water filled the massive tub. They undressed her gently, reverently, lowering her into the soothing water.

"I'm fine," Rhiannan muttered, relaxing in spite of herself as Elisha massaged her shoulders.

"You're radiant," Liam whispered, feeding her chilled grapes. "Also angry as hell, but radiant."

Meanwhile, the castle buzzed with the energy of celebration. The 62 who passed the final trial were being honored in the grand feast hall. The courtyard blazed with torches, laughter, and roaring music. Sentinels and siblings patrolled the edges, ensuring safety.

At the far end of the feast, Bruxxa the Beastmother stood alone, her plate untouched.

A deep rumble echoed across the table.

She turned...and locked eyes with a towering half orc warrior, his face scarred, his tusks slightly crooked, and his moss green eyes filled with stunned recognition.

They didn't speak. They sniffed.

The entire table fell silent.

Reyna gasped and jumped to her feet, pointing between them. "You're mates!" she shouted. "I can see the thread! It's glowing like a damn sunbeam!"

Bruxxa stiffened. Her hand went to the dagger at her hip.

"I've been hurt," she growled.

The orc placed his weapon on the table and raised both hands. "Then I'll earn your trust. However long it takes."

Her lips twitched, almost a smile.

Reyna clapped her hands, giddy. "Name?"

"Grogg Bloodbellow," the orc said, bowing low.

"Well, Grogg," Bruxxa murmured, voice low and gravelly, "don't expect me to swoon. I bite."

He grinned, revealing sharp canines. "So do I."

FaeNet exploded with comments and gifs of wild cheers.

The Beastmother had found her match.

And the kingdoms future had never looked stronger.