The morning sun burned through the mist like a blade through silk.
Naku Hizusuki stood at the window of his small inn room, watching as the 7th Kagavata Kingdom stirred to life. The stone streets were already alive with warriors heading toward the Trial Arena—some armored in polished steel, others wrapped in enchanted cloth that shimmered like starlight. Every step they took echoed with purpose.
He didn't feel ready.
And yet… he had come to be tested.
He adjusted the cloth around the stump of his right forearm, then slung his spear across his back. The wood was worn smooth from years of training, but in his hands, it still felt heavier than steel.
He took a deep breath.
"Victory begins with presence."
Buddha Mong's voice echoed in his mind.
Naku stepped outside. And with that, his first trial began.
---
The Trial Arena was a fortress of combat.
A circular coliseum built from obsidian stone, it loomed over the heart of Kagavata like a god staring down at mortals. Inside, the roars of hundreds thundered against the walls. Fire banners whipped in the high winds. The scent of sweat, magic, and blood filled the air.
Newcomers were herded into the waiting grounds—an open courtyard at the base of the Arena, surrounded by instructors, medics, and grim-faced judges in black robes. Above, hundreds watched from the stands, cheering and jeering with wild hunger.
Naku's name appeared on a glowing board suspended by hovering crystals.
MATCH 12 — Naku Hizusuki vs. Kaizu Dren
Type: Melee. Objective: Disarm or incapacitate. Fatal strikes forbidden.
He felt a knot form in his gut.
"Naku Hizusuki?" a voice sneered from across the yard.
He turned.
Kaizu Dren stood tall, wearing a half-plate of silver armor etched with the symbol of the noble Dren House—a wolf devouring a serpent. His hair was tied high, and his eyes glittered with arrogance.
"You're my opponent?" Kaizu laughed. "A cripple with a stick? This is an insult."
Naku said nothing.
Kaizu scoffed. "I'll make this fast. You can crawl back to whatever temple you came from and pray someone teaches you how to hold a blade."
---
They stood across from each other on the blackstone dueling floor.
"Begin!" the judge called.
Kaizu moved fast. Faster than Naku expected.
His twin sabers came flashing in twin arcs of steel and fury. Naku barely dodged the first, pivoted around the second, and rolled to create distance. The crowd howled in approval.
Kaizu grinned. "Run, little monk. Run."
He attacked again, but this time Naku met him head-on—deflecting one blade with the shaft of his spear, and using his shoulder to absorb the other blow. Pain exploded through his side, but he didn't fall.
Kaizu narrowed his eyes. "Tch. You're still standing?"
Naku didn't answer. He focused. Watched. Waited.
When Kaizu lunged again, Naku moved—not backward, but forward. He parried the first strike, twisted his body under the second, and struck Kaizu's wrist with the butt of his spear.
Crack.
Kaizu shouted in pain, dropping one blade.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Naku didn't stop.
With a single sweeping strike, he knocked Kaizu's feet from under him, then pinned his remaining sword arm to the ground with his knee. The spear's tip hovered at Kaizu's throat.
The judge raised his hand.
"Match over! Winner: Naku Hizusuki!"
---
The roar of the crowd swelled like a wave.
Some were shocked. Others cheered. But in the upper stands, one figure in a gray cloak sat silently, his eyes locked on Naku with quiet intensity.
Kaizu was dragged off by his clan retainers, muttering curses through bloodied lips.
Naku stood still for a long moment, letting his heart settle. Sweat poured down his back. His arm trembled from strain. But he was standing.
Not as a victim. Not as a survivor.
As a fighter.
As he left the arena floor, a few heads turned to watch him. A few whispers followed.
"That kid… he beat a Dren noble?"
"With one arm?"
"Who is he?"
Naku didn't respond. He wasn't here for attention.
But as he looked up at the towering arena, firelight flickering against the sky, he felt something shift within him.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
Purpose.
He tightened the wrappings on his arm and whispered to himself:
"I'm not just surviving anymore.
I'm beginning."
---
To Be Continued.