Chapter 318: Shadow trials [1]

Warren adjusted the heavy leather cuffs on his wrists, his calm, measured gaze remaining fixed on the glowing leaderboard outline. "Three Talented in the Top Five overall. Four in the Top Ten.

"Those are the conditions to qualify for the Veilrend Games, right?"

"No pressure, right?" Xander chuckled, though his eyes narrowed with intense focus, staring at Warren.

"Try not to trip on your own ego on the first platform, Gray," Edmund remarked coldly, though the faint frost crystallizing around his knuckles betrayed his own rising adrenaline.

The arena was a colossal, hollowed-out stadium suspended over a void of localized gravity fields.

Thousands of spectators filled the surrounding tiers, their cheers roaring like thunder as giant holographic projection screens hovered overhead, displaying real-time leaderboards, biometric feeds, and split times.

​Above the roar, the announcer’s voice boomed through the spatial amplification arrays:

​"Welcome to Trial One: The Shattered Path!"

"Live from the Grand Colosseum of the Astral Stadium of Pyreptar Academy, welcome to the opening event of the annual Festival of Shadows—the infamous Shadow Trials!"

​The announcer’s energetic voice boomed through the high end amplification arrays, vibrating the barrier suspended above the track.

Three hundred competitors. Four adaptive sectors. Zero margins for error. The clock begins the instant your boots cross the threshold!

"I’m your host, Jax Sterling, broadcasting exclusively for our live crowd here at the Academy, as well as our elite patrons tuning in on the VIP encrypted stream from the upper realms, if you get what I mean!"

" And sitting next to me today is none other than former Shadow Trial champion and master strategist Maestro Nadia Varas, I must say it is an honour!"

"Maestro Nadia, looking down at these three hundred nervous prospects on the platform... what’s going through your mind as we kick off Trial One?"

Nadia leaned toward her comm-array with a razor-thin, knowing smile, adjusting her earpiece.

Honestly, Jax? I’m watching to see who actually survives their own nerves. The Festival of Shadows isn’t just about speed; it’s about who can adapt when the floor literally dissolves under their feet. The raw talent in this cohort is staggering, but the Shattered Path doesn’t care about reputation and if any of our contenders think this is just another academy drill, the gravity void is going to give them a very expensive reality check."

"And there you’ve heard it folks, straight from the Maestro’s mouth! And we’re off!"

The first wave surged forward in a blur of motion, a few figures zipping across the glorified death trap.

​Xander went early in the rotation, taking off from the starting platform like a shot.

While other students faltered at the edge—watching in horror as the solid stone pathways dissolved into a chaotic sea of floating, shifting geometric blocks—Xander moved fluidly, with almost absurd confidence and pure instinct.

His dark eyes locked onto the shifting terrain, instantly reading the near-fluid geometry of the course before it could fully lock into place.

"Look at Gray out of the gates!" the commentator’s electrified voice exploded sharply over the stadium’s speakers.

"He’s not even waiting for the floor to materialize! Absolute madness—or pure genius! But what else would you expect from our former Student Council President? The guy’s got a fan club in every tier of this stadium! He isn’t just the youngest Novice in historical records—he’s the golden boy who somehow makes high-stakes survival look like a casual weekend flex!""

Mid-stride, the course responded to Xander’s presence.

A massive landing platform beneath him suddenly cracked and dropped away while the next block shifted several yards to the left mid-air.

Without missing a beat, Xander drove his weight downward, planting the heel of his boot into a falling slab of granite.

The stone creaked and tilted under the violent impact, but Xander used the brief moment to leap sideways, twisting his body into a tight spiral.

He plummeted toward the abyss, only to catch the polished edge of a narrow steel beam. With cat-like grace, he flipped and landed on the narrow bar.

Small sparks sizzled beneath his feet as he rode the beam’s greasy surface, using his arms to balance against the disorienting rush of wind.

With one last explosive leap off the metal beam, Xander cut through the air, becoming a dark blur.

The air whipped past his face, carrying the bitter tang of ozone and ground stone, as the course’s defensive grid recognized his trajectory and fought to cut him off.

Mid-fall, Xander tightened his core.

A pair of hydraulic stone pillars shot upward from the abyss, closing like a massive pair of crushing jaws directly in his path.

"Oh damn!"

A collective gasp rolled through the crowd.

"The crushers just triggered outta nowhere! He’s trapped—he’s got nowhere to go!" the commentator screamed into the mic. "Wait—is he spinning?!"

Tucking his chin and drawing his knees up to his chest, he contorted his body into a tight sideways spin, slipping through the narrowing gap with inches to spare.

A grid of searing laser tripwires hummed into existence directly ahead, crisscrossing into high-energy mesh.

Airborne and without footing, Xander bent backward into an impossible, fluid arc—threading the needle between two humming threads so close he could feel the sheer heat radiating off the energy beams, singeing the fabric of his collar.

Gravity finally claimed him as he cleared the hazard, pulling him down toward the final platform.

​A moment later, a sharp chime cut through the chaos, locking in his time as the scoreboard flared crimson above him.

​TRIAL ONE SPLIT — XANDER GRAY: 1m 42.8s

"WHAT A RUN! Xander Gray clears the gauntlet with style to spare!"

The crowd roared as his name shot to the top of the live display.

Xander turned back toward the opening gate, a smug grin plastered across his face as he locked eyes with Warren.

"Top that, elementalist."

​Warren remained silent as the crowd around him roared, taking deep, measured, steady breaths.

He stepped up to the starting line at the entry gate, settling into a grounded stance. Where Xander’s energy was explosive fire, Warren was absolute, calm precision. The moment the signal flashed green, he moved.

He didn’t sprint at full tilt like Xander. Instead, Warren treated the adaptive course like an active, fluid puzzle.

"And Warren Frost is out of the gate," the commentator noted, his tone shifting from hype to genuine curiosity and intrigue.

"No flash, no frenzy... folks, he’s reading the arena’s rhythm!"

"He’s got that stone-cold, soulless glare in his eyes—like he’s looking right through the death trap and calculating his tax returns!"

"Nadia, is it just me, or does this kid look like he hasn’t felt a single emotion since the third grade?"

​"That’s not detachment, Jax, that’s pure focus," Nadia replied, her voice smooth and appreciative. "From the way he’s moving, the course is already mapped out in his mind.

As a massive section of the path buckled and fractured into a long drop, with a near-imperceptible flick of his wrist, Warren released a precise, minimal jet of wind beneath his soles that propelled him forward with zero wasted energy.

Seconds later, the course attempted to crush his line as a thick wall of shifting stone erupted violently from the floor. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

Without even slowing down, he sent a subtle pulse of earth surging through the stone.

The stone’s texture instantly restructured under his soles; the friction spiked exponentially, allowing him to run straight up the vertical face as if gravity had simply rotated ninety degrees.

At the apex, he pushed off the sheer surface, floating effortlessly clean over the hidden spike-trap resetting below.

Where others fought the course, wrestling against its brutal mechanics, Warren fluidly rode its rhythm.

"Look at that, ladies and gentlemen!" the commentator roared, leaning over his console booth. He’s not dodging the course—he’s controlling it!"

​Moments later, a heavy chime rang across the arena, and the floating holograms updated instantly:

​TRIAL ONE SPLIT — WARREN FROST: 1m 40.1s

"HE BEATS GRAY BY NEARLY THREE SECONDS! UNBELIEVABLE CONTROL!"

Xander’s jaw dropped slightly as Warren’s name blinked and slid directly above his on the holographic board.

Warren walked off the platform, shooting Xander a quiet, subtle smirk. "Speechless much, Gray?"

​"Unbelievable," Xander muttered, though a sharp, competitive fire gleamed in his eyes. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Frost."

Before the applause could fade, the track reset itself for the next group of runners.

"Don’t blink, stadium! Lucian Ash is on the line!" the announcer barked, his voice sharp with anticipation.

" Look at those stands—half the crowd is fanning themselves, and I promise you it’s not from the heat! The girls are losing their minds for him, but good luck getting a smile out of that guy! The man doesn’t do fan service, folks—he only does lap times!"

Lucian ran the course like an executioner stalking a target—cold, calculated, and terrifyingly precise. There was no theatrical flair to his movement.

His training showed in every footfall—silent, impossibly low to the ground, and hyper-efficient.

​When the course unleashed its mind games,

casting a brilliant array of shimmering false pathways that tricked the eyes of the other runners, Lucian didn’t flinch.

Ignoring the bright, inviting optical illusions entirely, he threw himself toward what looked like empty air.

Holy skittles!" The commentator screamed.

"He called the bluff! How he saw through that, I have no idea! But then again, this guy more machine than man! Pure efficiency folks!"

With terrifying spatial awareness, he caught the barely visible edge of a real, hidden structural bolt—an impossibly narrow hold.

Rather than hesitating, he loaded all his weight into his calf and launched himself forward before the course could adjust.

He vaulted from one small anchor to the next in a sequence of fluid, punishing bursts, maintaining a blistering speed that turned the deadly labyrinth into nothing more than an execution ground.