The Eight Great Families. The very name carried weight, like the gravity of a planet bearing down on everyone within its orbit. With their reputation and influence stretching across the world, it was unthinkable that anyone would dare imitate them—much less claim to be part of their direct lineage. The wealth, power, and prestige those families commanded was unimaginable to someone like me. They weren’t just born with silver spoons in their mouths—they practically had platinum cradles handed to them at birth.
And here I was, stupidly dropping their name.
I could already picture the scene if they took offense: A simple word from one of them, and I’d be thrown in prison, with no trial, no questions. Maybe they wouldn’t even bother with prison—just have me erased. And no one would say a thing. I’d disappear like dust blown into the wind.
I swallowed hard. Anxiety seized my chest, and sweat began to prick at my brow.
“Hey, are you okay? You’re sweating. Like… a lot,” came a voice beside me, pulling me from my panicked thoughts.
I turned slowly, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. The boy sitting next to me leaned away as he scooted his chair back a few inches. His orange hair was a wild, messy mop on his head, contrasting with his paper-white skin that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in years. Acne dotted his face, and freckles were scattered across his nose and cheeks. He didn’t fit the image of a member of one of the Great Families, but when he spoke, his voice carried a calm arrogance, as though the world was nothing but a playground to him.
My eyes darted to the second kid sitting nearby, and he looked even more out of place. His long hair, dark and heavy, fell into his face in dreadlocks, though it was the color that threw me off—it was purple. Deep, rich purple. Whether it was natural or a rebellious dye job, I couldn’t tell, but it definitely made him stand out. He had a more composed look than his companion, but his youthfulness was still evident in the smoothness of his features.
The orange-haired one snapped his fingers in front of me, jolting me back to the present. “Hey, you good? Do we need to call an Arimus or something?”
I blinked, scrambling to get my thoughts in order. “Oh, no—no, sorry. Just… lost in thought.” I forced an awkward cough before extending a shaky hand. “Cy—no, uh… Jai. Jai Boone.” I stammered, hoping they hadn’t caught my slip-up.
They exchanged a glance, and then both broke into wide, amused grins before shaking my hand.
“Austin Burns,” the orange-haired one said with a smirk.
“Saiba Okoye,” said the purple-haired one, his voice smoother but no less confident.
For a second, I was left hanging in a tense silence before Austin, never one to leave a lull unfilled, spoke up again. “So… why were you looking for us? You mentioned the Great Families. You know who we are, right?”
I hesitated but then decided that honesty was my best bet. “I didn’t know who you guys were before I got here,” I said, straightening up a bit. “I just wanted to see how strong you were.”
They exchanged another glance, almost as if communicating wordlessly. There was a weird synchronicity to their movements, and for a moment, I couldn’t shake the thought that they might be capable of some form of telepathy. But maybe they just knew each other that well.
Saiba was the first to break the silence, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re decent,” he said. “But honestly? Me and Austin don’t care much about the fighting. We’re just here to save face for our families. We figure we’ll place second and third, keep it respectful, and call it a day.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why not just go for first and second? If you’re confident you can do that, why hold back?” My anxiety was dissapating as they showed no signs of being angry at my words.
They both laughed at that, a low, mocking kind of laugh, like I’d asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
Austin wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Dude, you think we want to go up against him? We’ll go for second and third, yeah, but only because we’re stopping short. No way are we taking on that monstrous bastard.” He pointed to one of the large screens in front of us.
I followed his gaze, my eyes locking onto the biggest screen, where a single contestant stood, surrounded by mountains of carcasses. That wasn’t an exaggeration—he was perched on top of a literal mountain of dead magical beasts, holding a flagstaff casually over his shoulder. He wasn’t even winded. His clothes were pristine, not a drop of blood or a sign of struggle anywhere on him.
He sheathed a glowing white sword and then sat cross-legged atop the pile of bodies, closing his eyes to meditate. The sheer calmness of his demeanor amidst such carnage made my blood run cold.
“Who the hell is that?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
Saiba and Austin stopped laughing, their expressions growing somber.
“We don’t know,” Saiba admitted flatly.
I blinked in confusion. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
Austin leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “He’s a mystery. Popped up out of nowhere, challenging so-called geniuses across the world. Cleared out the entire southern continent like it was nothing. Now, he’s only participating in fighting tournaments and events before heading to The Academy.”
“So, he’s not part of the Great Families? Or some hidden faction?”
They both shook their heads. “Nah,” Austin said. “If he was, trust me, everyone would be scrambling to claim him. The guy’s already made it clear, though—he’ll only follow someone he deems worthy.”
“Worthy of what?” I muttered. “Who the hell is more worthy than the old monsters in charge of the great families?”
They both shrugged, though I could see the faint glimmer of envy in Saiba’s eyes. This nameless man wasn’t just strong—he was a one-in-a-trillion prodigy. The kind of person who came along once in a lifetime.
I clenched my fists, trying to quell the fear bubbling up in me.
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So what if he’s a genius? I thought, forcing a bravado I didn’t feel.
I can take him. Probably not that strong anyway.
‘Shut up, Infra,’ I shot back at the voice in my head. How would it know anyway.
Horns blared around the room, pulling my attention back to the screens. It was our turn next. The winners and losers of the previous round were already displayed, their outcomes scrolling across the large display. I could feel the tension in the air as my stomach twisted into knots. As much as I wanted to stay confident, my gut was telling me otherwise.
?
We stepped through the wood-paneled walls, and the world around me shifted. The familiar sight of the waiting room vanished, replaced by the cold, ominous landscape of the underground maze. The air was damp, and an unnatural chill permeated the narrow, winding corridors.
I took a deep breath, calming my nerves.
Just get one of the flags, I reminded myself. Sneak past the beasts. Avoid the stronger contestants. You can do this.
The faint sound of growls echoed from behind me.
I tensed, allowing my aura to flare, and threw myself against the wall just as a massive wolf-like beast lunged at me. Its growls were deeper and more guttural than any animal I’d ever heard. Bloodthirsty eyes gleamed in the dim light, and as I glanced around, my heart sank. A pack of seven surrounded me.
Great. Everything’s going according to plan.
“Well? Who do you think’s going to win?” The question hung in the air, charged with anticipation and the scent of sweat and anxiety.
“Are you stupid or what? Obviously, that silent swordsman kid. I already bet this month's salary on him.” The confident declaration was punctuated by a smirk, as if victory were a foregone conclusion.
“The hell is your wife gonna say when she finds out about that?” The other man leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a knowing grin.
“Something along the lines of ‘let’s get working on number 4.’” The first man chuckled, clearly unfazed by the potential consequences.
“You’re one weird guy, you know that?” The sarcasm was thick, but amusement twinkled in his eyes.
“Yeah, well—”
Creak!
The men’s banter abruptly ceased as their postures shifted, alertness replacing their casual demeanor.
“Cameras one through fifteen. Clear,” a voice commanded, cutting through the tension.
“Roger. Cameras sixteen through thirty, clear.”
“Roger.”
Metal boots echoed ominously across the floor, each step deliberate and heavy, resonating like a war drum. A dark figure emerged from the shadows behind the two men, an aura of authority trailing in their wake.
“Stop with the acting, you idiots.” The figure delivered a sharp smack to the back of their heads, a gesture more playful than punishing, before slamming a heavy sack down onto the table with a thud. “Years salary on that kid.” A long, bony finger pointed at one of the screens, where a single, stark image dominated the display.
“Him? No way, boss, that guy’s a total wuss.”
“Shut up. You game or not?” The figure’s voice was low, but the challenge was unmistakable.
The men exchanged glances, the thrill of potential fortune igniting a spark of excitement. They dropped lighter bags onto the table, their anticipation palpable.
“Deal, but we’re both betting on the Silent Swordsman,” they exclaimed in unison, their minds already racing with dreams of wealth and the power it would bring.
“Good. I’d expect no less.” The figure smiled, a glimmer of satisfaction in their eyes, before stepping back and gliding through the door, slamming it shut behind them.
“Don’t disappoint me, Fortis.”
This whole test is a scam. It’s a worthless, stupid, pointless, idiotic joke of a tournament. It’s so ridiculous that I struggle to even find the words to describe its absurdity. Seriously, the whole thing should be canceled and never held again.
Since I stumbled into the first pack of wolves, I’ve been thrown into a hellscape of beasts. Eight different herds! Eight! After the wolves came the rats, then the bears, then the lions, and then those bizarre mini gryphons. The weird multi-headed snakes chased me next, and after that… I can’t even recall. The point is, I’ve encountered more monsters than I can count.
After nearly twenty exhausting minutes of running, I finally found a small respite. It was a narrow crevice in the maze walls, just wide enough for me to squeeze into, providing a brief sanctuary from the chaos outside.
Crack!
“Oh, come on! Are you guys sending me these things on purpose now?” Panic surged through me as I realized the noise came from something—or someone—hunting me down, following me and ignoring everything else. I frantically began to shimmy out of the crevice as a massive hand clawed at the wall, tearing away chunks of stone like they were made of paper.
“What is so hard to understand about a break, Infra? Shut up! Zip it!” I shouted, forcing my body through the tight space. But the more I screamed, the more I felt the attention of whatever beast was lurking beyond the wall.
As the hand finally gave up on the wall and reached for me directly, adrenaline surging through my veins. I scrambled free and bolted without a moment's hesitation.
The dormant cores of beasts I had scavenged rolled chaotically in my pockets, their jagged shapes almost slipping out with each frantic step. I had scavenged these from the carcasses of the fallen, and despite my urgency, I couldn’t help but marvel at their strange beauty—jagged rocks with an odd circular symbol embedded in their centers.
It was said that Heartiles only took on the form of the cores after their host dies because without the Tecz, they’re just that: a core. An empty shell devoid of life. It was absurd, but I found a twisted sort of logic in it.
Now, as I sprinted through this living nightmare, I regretted not scavenging more. The meager ten or so cores in my possession were nowhere near the twenty-five I needed, and as my plan to grab a flag began to crumble, my options shrank alarmingly.
After running for what felt like an eternity, I stumbled upon twin stone doors standing imposingly against the maze.
“Random stone doors in a death maze. There’s definitely nothing bad back here,” I muttered to myself, attempting to catch my breath. But the oppressive silence surrounding me left no room for doubt; there was no other option but to enter.
With every ounce of strength I could muster, I threw the doors open, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the stillness. Once inside, despite the sense of impending doom that loomed over me, I allowed myself to slide down to the ground, finally taking a moment to breathe and process my surroundings.
“You dare enter my home? Stand and die, unworthy one.”
A chilling voice resonated through the air, sending shivers down my spine as a swirling black mist began to coalesce before me. I looked around, realizing I stood in a desolate throne room, the stone walls cracked and worn down with age, remnants of a grandeur long lost.
Makes sense.
I pushed myself to my feet and drew my Weaver, the weapon extending with a familiar click, its sleek form feeling reassuring in my hands. I summoned my aura, letting it flare up to its full potential.
Gradually, the mist coalesced into a form. First came the legs, then the arms, followed by a broad chest, and finally the head emerged—a towering knight clad in ominous black armor, gripping a blood-red sword that seemed to drink in the dim light.
“Again? Really?!” I protested, incredulity lacing my voice as I instinctively lowered myself into a fighting stance.
“Whatever, let’s get this over with, you giant tin can.” I steeled myself, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
“I will squash you like the worthless insect that you are!” the knight roared, swinging down with terrifying force.
As I prepared to dodge, I couldn’t help but wonder if taunting a twenty-foot-tall, sword-wielding death knight was truly the smartest choice in my situation. The answer felt like a distant whisper, swallowed by the echoes of the chaos unfolding around me.