Chapter 221: Team Trials (2)

The sudden drop in temperature and the dead-eyed, grey-robed figures stepping out of the unmapped dungeon wall had thrown the entire team on edge, but Nathan knew panicking right now would get them killed.

Those strange, void-faced phantoms weren’t part of any official tournament programming, and as Kaito instantly lunged forward to test their defenses with his blade, the cold reality set in that whatever was happening here went far beyond simple competition points and ranking boards.

The grey-robed figures formed a loose circle around them, blocking every exit.

Kaito didn’t hesitate. He pulled his sword and stepped in front of the group. "You want to test us? Try me first."

The lead figure tilted its head. Its voice sounded hollow, scraping right against their eardrums. "The Sword Saint. Your pride is your shield, but it’s also your weak spot. We didn’t come here for you."

"Then what do you want?" Kaito snapped.

The figure slowly raised a thin hand and pointed a long, grey finger straight at Amara. "Her."

Amara jumped back, her eyes going wide. "Me? Why?"

"You talk to spirits. You see past the veil. You are an interesting one."

Nathan immediately stepped sideways, sliding between Amara and the robed figure. He pulled an arrow from his quiver. "You’re not taking anyone anywhere."

The figure let out a dry, rattling laugh. "We aren’t taking her, for now. We’re just looking. But if you want to fight, we’ll see what you’ve got."

All seven figures raised their hands at the exact same time. Thick black shadows pooled around their feet, rising up like living smoke. The air turned freezing cold instantly, and Nathan could see white puffs of breath every time his teammates spoke.

"Form up!" Nathan yelled over the wind. "Kaito, hold the front! Sigrid, cover the left! Park, watch the right! Amara, keep your spirits up for defense! I’ll find their weak point!"

Kaito didn’t argue. He charged, his blade igniting with blinding white light. He slashed right through the lead figure’s chest—and his sword just kept going, hitting empty air. The figure didn’t even flinch. Its shadow body rippled like water and closed right back up.

"What the hell?" Kaito swung again, but the result was the same.

Park raised his rifle and fired three quick rounds. The bullets flew straight through the figures without slowing down. "They aren’t solid! My rounds are passing right through them!"

Sigrid drove her heavy spear forward, but it met no resistance at all. "They’re phasing! We can’t land a hit!"

Nathan slammed [Hunter’s Insight] up to maximum power, his eyes scanning the dark corridor. The figures in front of them weren’t real bodies; they were just projections. Their real source had to be anchored to something nearby.

He swept his gaze across the stone walls until he caught a faint flicker. There—a small, jagged crystal jammed deep into a crack in the basalt, pulsing with the exact same pale light as the phantoms.

"There!" Nathan pointed his bow. "That crystal on the wall! It’s their anchor! Smash it and the projections go down!"

Amara called her spirits back. Half a dozen glowing, translucent blue shapes swirled around her shoulders. "I can feel it. That stone is tied right to them. But it’s locked behind a shield."

"Then we break the shield," Nathan said, nocking an arrow and activating [Death’s Homing Compass].

A glowing red crosshair locked onto the crystal. Nathan let the arrow fly. It curved through the air, locked onto the target, and slammed into the stone—only to bounce off harmlessly as a pale dome of light flared to life.

"Protected," Park muttered, lowering his rifle a fraction. "Now what?"

Nathan studied the shimmering barrier through his skill. It was thick, but it wasn’t unbreakable. "Amara, can your spirits chew through that mana?"

Amara closed her eyes, her lips moving in a quick, quiet chant in a tongue none of them knew. Her spirits surged forward like glowing jellyfish, throwing themselves against the pale dome and wrapping around it. The barrier began to flicker and hum. The grey-robed figures around them started to blur and fade out.

"Keep pushing them!" Nathan shouted.

Amara gritted her teeth, her spirits tightening their grip. Cracks started to spiderweb across the pale barrier. The figures in front of them shrieked in overlapping, distorted voices.

"Interesting," the lead voice echoed inside their heads. "You are far more stubborn than we thought."

With a sharp crack, the crystal on the wall shattered into dust.

The robed figures dissolved into thin air like smoke. The shadows vanished, and the heavy, freezing chill lifted from the corridor.

Seconds later, the stone floor beneath their boots shuddered violently. The dungeon instance was collapsing.

"Move!" Nathan yelled, turning toward the exit.

The team scrambled down the hall, diving through the portal just as the ceiling caved in behind them with a deafening roar. They tumbled out onto the floor of the staging area, gasping for air while the crowd around them cheered for the other teams still finishing their runs.

Back in the main staging area, Kaito sheathed his sword with a sharp click. His hands were steady, but his jaw was clenched tight. He looked over at Nathan. "Those things back there... you figured them out fast."

"Yeah, they had a pattern to them, so I just looked for that" Nathan replied simply, wiping dust off his shoulder.

Kaito stared at him for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. "Hmmm... You’re useful, Nathan Cross."

"Uh? Thanks? I’ll... take that as a compliment."

"It was an observation," Kaito said, turning away.

Amara chuckled softly, adjusting her sashes. "In his weird sword-lord language, that’s practically a love confession."

Park slung his rifle over his back, frowning. "Who were those freaks anyway? And why did they want Amara?"

"I don’t know," Nathan said grimly. "But we’re probably going to find out soon."

Sigrid crossed her arms, looking uneasy. "They said they were observing and testing us. That means they’re hunting for something specific. Or someone."

---

Up in the packed stadium stands, Dillon wasn’t watching the arena at all.

While the other spectators cheered for the teams on the big screens, Dillon had slipped away from the team seats and climbed up into the dark, empty rows of the upper nosebleed section. The grey-robed figures he’d spotted earlier were gone now, vanished into the shadows before he could reach them.

But they hadn’t left empty-handed. Or rather, they had left something behind.

Dillon knelt beside a concrete pillar. Wedged into a narrow gap in the stone was a small, familiar crystal. It pulsed with a faint, pale light—the exact same light he had seen flickering on the broadcast during Nathan’s dungeon run.

Dillon reached out and plucked it from the wall. It felt warm in his palm, humming with a strange, heavy energy. He slipped it into his jacket pocket, his blue eyes narrowing as he looked out over the massive, cheering crowd.

Something was very wrong with this tournament. And they were right in the middle of it.