The bottom lane was a corridor of steam and fractured stone. On one side, a sheer wall of grey rock rose toward the arena sky. On the other, the heat pool bubbled and hissed, spitting plumes of scalding vapor across the lane. The ground near the pool was cracked and brittle, spiderwebbed with fissures that glowed faint orange. One wrong step and a fighter would be fighting the terrain as much as their opponent. The air tasted like sulfur and hot copper.

The first control point sat at the lane’s midpoint, a raised stone platform with a neutral crystal glowing white at its center. Waiting.

Greer walked toward it with Seira at his back. His axe was in both hands. His expression was unreadable. He’d spent three years in Harwick green, three years on a scholarship that kept him in the academy, three years following Victor’s orders and laughing at Victor’s jokes and swinging his axe at whoever Victor pointed him toward. Now he was walking into a fight for a team he hadn’t chosen, led by a Summoner he’d mocked in the tunnel before Phase One. The crowd had laughed when his name was drawn. "Kane and the rejects." He’d heard it. He hadn’t forgotten.

Amelia was already at the control point. Her wind mage’s robes rippled in a breeze that existed only around her, the air bending to her will. She was calm. Confident. Two B-ranks against a Harwick castoff and a healer. The math favored her.

Nyssa stood beside her, a swordswoman with a bitter set to her jaw. Her knuckles were white on her blade. She’d been fighting to prove herself since the Trials began, and every round she survived felt like a vindication. She saw Greer’s name on the bracket and her lip curled.

"Look who it is," Nyssa said. "The Harwick lapdog. Victor finally let you off the leash? Or did he kick you out of the kennel?"

Greer didn’t answer. He stepped onto the control point. The neutral crystal flickered between them. Seira hung back, just behind the platform, her hands already glowing with faint restorative light.

"Nothing to say?" Nyssa’s grin was sharp and mean. "That’s fine. You never were much for talking, were you? Just followed orders. Swung your little axe. Wagged your tail when Victor threw you a bone."

Amelia raised her hands. The wind answered.

A gale screamed down the lane, a concentrated blast of air that tore at Greer’s clothes and tried to lift him off his feet. He drove the butt of his axe into a crack in the stone, anchoring himself, and leaned into the wind. His feet slid back six inches. He stopped.

Seira’s barrier flared behind him, a curved shield of gold light that split the gale around them. Steam from the heat pool swirled into the wind, turning the lane into a cyclone of scalding vapor. Greer’s skin reddened. His eyes stung. He didn’t move.

"I can hold against this," Seira said. Her voice was steady. "But she’s got more mana than I do."

"Just hold long enough."

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. The wind intensified. She was pouring more mana into the gale now, trying to overwhelm them with raw power. The steam grew thicker. The heat pressed in from both sides.

Nyssa used the cover. She came through the steam at an angle, her blade low, a flanking strike aimed at Greer’s ribs while the wind pinned him in place. Greer saw her coming. He couldn’t block. His axe was still anchored against the gale.

Seira stepped forward. Her barrier shifted, angling to catch Nyssa’s blade. Steel rang against solid light. Sparks showered into the steam. Nyssa’s eyes went wide. She’d forgotten about the healer. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"Nice try," Seira said.

Nyssa hissed through her teeth and disengaged, dancing back into the steam. "You think you’re clever?" she spat. "You’re nothing. A lapdog and his pet healer. You don’t belong on this stage."

Amelia’s wind was a living thing, a howling gale that turned the bottom lane into a corridor of scalding steam and screaming air. Her robes whipped around her. Her hands were claws, conducting the storm. She saw Greer coming through the steam and her eyes went cold.

"You want to charge me?" she said. "Fine. Let’s see how fast you are."

She brought both hands together. The wind compressed into a focused cyclone, a drill of air that hit Greer square in the chest. The impact cracked something in his ribs. Pain flared white. He kept coming. She twisted her hands and the cyclone became a wall, a barrier of screaming wind that pushed him back, his boots sliding on the fractured stone.

"You’re not fast enough!" she shouted over the gale. "You’re not strong enough!"

Greer planted his feet. The wind howled. Steam scalded his skin. Seira’s healing glow washed over him, closing the worst of the burns, but she couldn’t stop the wind from pushing him back.

Then the wind shifted. Just for a moment. Amelia’s focus flickered toward Seira, toward the barrier that was still holding, and the gale weakened by a fraction.

Greer threw his axe.

The heavy blade spun end over end through the steam, a dark blur cutting through the gale. Amelia’s eyes went wide. She jerked sideways, the axe missing her throat by inches, the wind around her faltering as she lost concentration. The cyclone died.

Greer was already moving. He closed the gap before she could recover, before she could raise the wind again. She tried. Her hands came up, a desperate gust forming at her fingertips. Too slow. Too late.

He caught her wrist, wrenched her arm aside, and drove his fist into her stomach. She folded. He ripped his axe from the stone where it had embedded, brought it around in a brutal horizontal arc, and buried the blade deep in her chest. The impact lifted her off her feet. She hit the ground and dissolved into white light before the wind had fully died.

"Greer eliminates Amelia! Team Three extends their lead in the bottom lane!"

The Surge buff flared around him, golden energy singing through his limbs. The pain in his ribs dulled to a distant throb. He turned toward Nyssa.

The swordswoman was alone now. Her flanking partner was gone. Her wind support was dissolving into light. She looked at Greer, at the Surge buff crackling around his shoulders, at Seira’s barrier still shimmering behind him. Her bitter smile had vanished. Something uglier replaced it.

"You got lucky," she spat. "Amelia got careless. You’re still just a hired thug who couldn’t think for himself if his life depended on it."

Greer didn’t answer. He walked toward her. His axe hung at his side, ready.

Nyssa’s jaw tightened. She came at him fast, her blade a blur of thrusts and cuts. She was good. Better than Greer expected. Her sword traced a line across his forearm, drawing blood. Another cut to his shoulder. She was faster than him. More precise. She fought like someone who’d spent years being underestimated and had learned to make people pay for it.

She feinted high and went low, her blade biting into his thigh. Blood slicked the stone beneath him. Greer stumbled. Nyssa pressed the advantage, raining strikes, each one meant to hurt, each one aimed at joints and soft tissue. A slash across his ribs. A thrust toward his kidney. She wasn’t trying to score points anymore. She was trying to break him.

"You’re nothing," she hissed. "You’ve always been nothing. Victor’s errand boy. You don’t belong here."

Greer took the next hit on his forearm. The blade bit deep. He felt the bone bruise. He didn’t block the follow-up. He stepped into it, let the sword score across his shoulder, and used the half-second opening to grab her weapon wrist. His grip locked around the bone. Her blade was pinned, useless, the edge inches from his ribs but unable to move.

Her eyes went wide. She tried to pull free. He didn’t let go. Her free hand came up, nails raking across his cheek, drawing blood.

"I’m not Victor’s anything," he said. His voice was quiet.

He threw her sideways. She hit the stone hard, rolled, came up gasping. Her blade was still in her hand. She lunged, desperate, all technique gone. Greer sidestepped. His axe came around in a short, brutal arc that caught her across the back of her neck. She dissolved into white light before she could scream.

"Greer with the double kill! Team Three takes the bottom lane!"

The Surge buff flared again, golden and bright. Greer stood in the clearing steam, breathing hard. Blood ran down his arm, his leg, his shoulder. His ribs ached. His skin was blistered from the heat. His hands were completely steady.

Seira’s healing glow washed over him, closing the deepest cuts, cooling the burns. "That was intense," she said quietly.

Greer looked at his hands. "Yeah," he said. "It was."

The second control point was guarded. Greer walked to it, placed his hand on the neutral crystal, and watched it flare gold. Team Three’s colors spread across the bottom lane. The barrier gate flickered and dropped.

***

In the top lane, Soren respawned at his base.

He stood in the cold stone chamber, his hands pressed to his temples. The wet thud was still in his ears. The smile was still burned behind his eyes. His legs worked. He could move. But every instinct was screaming at him to stay where he was.

The barrier gate flickered and dropped. Lysandra were on the other side.

He walked out of the base anyway. He was A-rank. He wasn’t going to let some blonde girl with a club make him afraid.

Lysandra was waiting at the second control point. Her club rested on her shoulder. Her smile was still there, just at the corners of her mouth. She saw him coming and her eyes lit up.

"There you are," she said. "I was hoping you’d come back."

Soren raised his fists. His hands were shaking. "You think you’re funny? You think that little trick with the headshot makes you special?"

"I don’t think anything." She started walking toward him. "I just like the sound you made."

Soren threw a punch. It was fast. It was strong. It was also desperate, and she saw it coming before he threw it. She sidestepped, let the fist pass harmlessly over her shoulder, and drove the iron head of the club into his ribs. The crack split the air. Soren folded. She brought the club up in a short, brutal arc and caught his chin. His head snapped back. His feet left the stone. He dissolved into white light before he hit the ground.

"Li with her second elimination on Soren! He cannot stop her! He cannot even slow her down!"

In the respawn chamber, Soren sat on the cold stone. His hands were pressed to his temples. His whole body was shaking. He didn’t get up.