They navigated the streets, ignoring the constant stares and whispered insults from the local elves.

It took them about ten minutes to reach the Proving Grounds.

The place was an expansive, open-air arena surrounded by tall stone walls. The sounds of clashing steel and grunting warriors echoed over the top of the barricades.

Kane pushed the doors open and stepped inside the compound.

The training yard was packed with fighters from various races, all preparing for the upcoming matches.

Elves practiced their elegant sword forms in one corner, while a group of beastmen wrestled near a sand pit.

He scanned the crowd, searching for anyone who looked like a genuine threat. His eyes stopped on a figure near the far end of the yard.

Standing near a row of training dummies was a man who clearly did not belong in an elven city.

He was a mountain of muscle, covered in tribal tattoos that Kane didn’t recognize from his own camp.

The man wielded a giant two-handed sword, swinging it with enough speed to create a whistling sound through the air.

He wore animal furs and leather, bearing the unmistakable rugged look of a seasoned barbarian.

’A barbarian from another clan,’ Kane thought, watching the warrior cleave a dummy clean in half with a single swing.

[Participant Scan Initiated]

[Target: Rutheus of the Dragonblood Clan]

[Level: 45]

[Class: Berserker Vanguard]

[Threat Level: High]

Kane raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Level forty-five was a very high rank for this stage of the game, making this man a serious contender for the championship.

Then the clan name clicked in his mind, and his meta-knowledge flooded his thoughts to fill in the missing lore.

’The Dragonblood Clan,’ Kane remembered, watching the giant man reset his stance.

’They were the only bloodline to escape the great massacre. They retreated deep into the northern mountains while the human kingdoms slaughtered the rest of our kind. I didn’t expect to see one of them this far south.’

Rutheus stepped back from the ruined dummy and shouted at a small group of younger teenage warriors gathered behind him.

"Your footing is completely wrong," the giant barbarian barked, pointing a calloused finger at a boy holding a shield.

"If you plant your feet like a rooted tree, a fast elf will just dance around you and open your throat. You have to stay loose and move with their strikes. Raw power means nothing if you cannot hit your target."

The young boys nodded eagerly, adjusting their stances to mimic his fluid movements.

Rutheus watched them practice for a few seconds before he turned his head and noticed the new arrivals.

His eyes locked directly onto Kane.

Brak stepped forward instinctively, holding his iron spear ready to defend his chief, but Kane raised a hand to stop him.

Kane stepped out to meet the warrior, keeping his posture relaxed and his hands far away from his axes.

"You carry the scent of the southern woods," Rutheus said, stopping just a few feet away.

His voice was a deep, resonant rumble that perfectly matched his intimidating size.

He looked Kane up and down, noting the twin weapons and the smirk.

"I recognize those tribal markings on your men. You men are from the Bloodfang tribe."

"We are," Kane replied calmly.

"My name is Kane."

Rutheus let out a booming laugh that turned a few heads in the busy courtyard.

"I didn’t think any of you southern bastards had the balls to walk into an elven city. Where’s that idiot Lain?"

"Lain’s dead," Kane answered, looking the giant right in the eye without blinking.

"I killed him a few days ago, so I lead the tribe now."

Rutheus did not look angry or surprised by the news.

Instead, a wide grin spread across his scarred face.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Rutheus chuckled, shaking his head.

"That guy was way too proud and far too horny to be a proper leader. He spent more time chasing skirts than feeding his own warriors. It is very good to see someone with actual fire in their eyes taking charge of the Bloodfang."

The tension in the air melted away instantly. Sira lowered her bow slightly, and Thora relaxed her grip on her daggers.

Rutheus clearly didn’t harbor any ill will toward his distant cousins.

In fact, he seemed genuinely happy to see another barbarian making a name for himself in this hostile territory.

"My name is Rutheus," the giant said, offering his free hand in a warrior’s greeting.

Kane shook it firmly, noting the intense physical strength hidden in the man’s calloused grip.

"Welcome to the Celestial Aurora," Rutheus smiled, gesturing broadly toward the packed training yard.

"You picked a hell of a time to show up, Kane. I have been coming here every tournament season for the past twenty years, but this year is completely different from the rest."

"How so?" Kane asked, crossing his arms to listen.

Rutheus leaned his giant sword against a nearby stone pillar.

"The Elven Prince is competing this year. Because of that, the queen doubled the prize pool and opened the borders to more foreign fighters. They want a spectacular show, but they mostly want to prove their prince is the strongest warrior on the continent."

Kane glanced around the yard, watching an elven spellsword launch a barrage of ice spikes into a stone target.

"They look flashy, but they seem fragile when you get up close."

"Don’t underestimate them," Rutheus warned gently, stepping easily into the role of a seasoned mentor guiding a new prospect.

"They lack raw physical strength, but they make up for it with insane speed and magic barriers. If you try to trade blows with an elite elf, you will find a blade in your ribs before you even finish your swing."

Rutheus pointed a finger toward a group of high elves practicing their footwork near the far wall.

"See how they always pivot on their back foot before casting? That is their main weak point. If you sweep their leading leg while they cast a spell, their barrier shatters instantly, leaving them wide open."

Kane committed the advice to memory.

It matched his game knowledge perfectly, but hearing it from a veteran of this specific arena was invaluable.

"I appreciate the tip," Kane said, offering a respectful nod.

"But why are you helping me? We might end up facing each other in the ring later this week."

Rutheus laughed again.

"Because it pisses the elves off when barbarians do well. We are supposed to be unwashed savages, so every time one of us wins a match, a snooty noble loses a fortune in bets. Besides, if we do face each other, I want you at your best. There is zero honor in beating a man who does not know the rules of the house."

Rutheus picked his sword back up and rested it comfortably on his shoulder. He looked at the fierce women standing closely behind Kane, offering an approving nod.

"You’ve already claimed some fine women. Keep winning, and the elves might start throwing their own daughters at you just to keep you from burning their pretty city down."

He laughed again and clapped Kane on the shoulder.

"Grab a practice ring before the sun sets. You’re going to need it.

"We might face each other in the arena."

"I hope so. Fight well, Kane. Let’s give these pointy-eared bastards something to remember."