The ceremonial horn's echo died, swallowed by a guttural roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Oulbeck arena. The Gauntlet of Blades sprang to life. Stone pillars groaned, grinding against each other as they shifted like colossal, angry teeth. Platforms tilted, blades whirred with a hungry sound, and the air grew thick with the scent of ozone and ancient dust. Liam's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the symphony of destruction, but his mind was a sliver of ice, honed by a lifetime of battles yet to come, and one already tragically lost.
Vorian. He won't stop. Kael's warning echoed, a grim counterpoint to Grandmaster Orin's challenge. This wasn't just a trial; it was a hunting ground, and he was the prey. But this time, the prey had fangs.
"Dragonheart Vigor, full flow!" Liam mentally commanded, pushing his mana into Agility and Strength, feeling the familiar surge ignite his muscles, sharpen his already heightened Draconic Senses. Crimson Fang, drawn in a whisper of steel, felt like an extension of his soul, its crimson fuller pulsing with a faint, eager light.
He moved. Not with the panicked scramble of other competitors, but with a predator's calculated grace. His amber eyes, enhanced by the draconic essence, scanned the shifting labyrinth, processing the deadly ballet of grinding stone and spinning steel. He saw Lady Elara Voss, agile as a wildcat, already leaping across a chasm, her bow ready. Kael Thorne, a force of nature, was smashing through a section of magically weakened wall, his axe a brutal, efficient tool.
Liam vaulted onto a rising pillar, its surface slick with a strange, oily residue. Below, a hapless youth screamed as a rotating platform studded with blades swept him off a narrow ledge. The Gauntlet was merciless, a true crucible.
His first true challenge came in the form of a chasm, too wide to leap, spanned only by a series of retracting stone spikes. He saw other competitors hesitate, some attempting reckless jumps, others turning back to find another route. Liam watched the rhythm of the spikes, his Draconic Senses picking up the faint clicks of the mechanism beneath. He saw the pattern. With a burst of speed, he launched himself, his feet finding purchase on the spikes for fractions of a second, a deadly dance over the abyss. He landed on the other side, a thrill of triumph thrumming through him.
A volley of small, needle-like projectiles erupted from hidden crevices in the wall. Liam spun, Crimson Fang a crimson blur, deflecting the majority, the impacts stinging through the blade. One needle, imbued with a faint, sickly green aura, grazed his cheek. Poison. Minor, but debilitating if left unchecked. Dragonheart Refinement was already working, the draconic essence in his blood neutralizing the toxin, but it was a stark reminder of the Gauntlet's insidious nature.
As he rounded a towering obelisk, two figures emerged from the shadows. They wore the colors of House Varro, a minor house known for its loyalty to… Vorian. Their eyes, hard and merciless, fixed on Liam. They moved with a coordination that bespoke more than just tournament rivalry. These were Kael's "more vipers."
"So, Uncle sends his regards," Liam muttered, his voice a low growl lost in the clang of distant steel.
The Varro swordsmen attacked, their blades aimed not at a sigil, but at his throat, his heart. Lethal intent. Liam met their assault, Crimson Fang weeping a song of vengeance. He parried a thrust from one, the force of it jarring, then spun inside the other's guard, his elbow smashing into the man's jaw with a sickening crunch. The man staggered, momentarily dazed. Liam didn't hesitate. He needed to end this quickly. His blade, empowered by a surge from Dragonheart Vigor, bit into the man's sword arm, not a killing blow, but deep enough to cripple. The man screamed, dropping his weapon.
The second Varro knight, seeing his comrade fall, pressed his attack with renewed ferocity. Liam, his Agility at its peak, danced around him, Crimson Fang deflecting, probing. He saw an opening, a momentary lapse in the knight's defense. With a guttural cry that was more draconic than human, Liam lunged. Crimson Fang pierced the knight's shoulder, the Jagged Edge ensuring a deep, bleeding wound that would take him out of the fight. The Blooddrinker effect pulsed, a faint [+2 Strength, +2 Agility] flickering in his vision.
He didn't linger. He left them, groaning and incapacitated, a clear message to any other hidden assassins.
The Gauntlet grew more treacherous. Illusory floors shimmered over deadly pits, jets of flame erupted from unexpected openings, and crushing stone blocks threatened to obliterate the unwary. Liam moved through it all, a phantom in the chaos. His past life's combat experience, combined with the System's enhancements and the potent Dragonheart Vigor, gave him an edge no other competitor possessed. He felt the distant, oppressive gaze of Sword Sovereign Eldrin, a silent weight on his soul, driving him, testing him.
He saw Lady Elara, pinned down by a relentless barrage of magical projectiles from a hidden turret. With a well-aimed ricochet of a thrown dagger – a skill he'd honed in desperate skirmishes of his past – he struck the turret's focusing crystal, shattering it. Elara looked up, startled, then offered a curt, almost imperceptible nod before disappearing deeper into the maze. A debt, perhaps, repaid.
Kael Thorne, he encountered next, battling a golem of animated stone. The commoner fought with savage power, but the golem was relentless. Liam, seeing Kael's axe glance off the golem's hardened hide, shouted, "The joints, Thorne! Its joints are weaker!" Kael, without missing a beat, adjusted his attack, his axe blows now targeting the golem's elbows and knees with devastating effect. The golem crumbled.
"Still don't like you, Lithian," Kael panted, "but that was… decent advice."
The final stretch. The colossal dragon statue loomed, its gaping maw the finish line. But between Liam and his goal lay a wide, rotating platform, its surface a dizzying array of sharpened spikes and flame jets, all moving in a complex, unpredictable pattern. Several competitors lay broken at its edge, their attempts to cross ending in disaster.
Liam took a deep breath, his mana reserves dwindling, his body aching. This was it. He studied the platform, his Draconic Senses working overtime, tracing the patterns of fire and steel. He saw a path, a razor-thin window of opportunity, a dance with death itself.
He launched himself.
He leaped, he spun, he ducked, Crimson Fang a silver whisper as it deflected a stray blade, its pommel smashing a fire jet nozzle just before it erupted. His movements were a blur, a testament to the harmonious fusion of his regressed knowledge, his draconic power, and the sheer, unyielding force of his will. He felt the burn of near-misses, the sting of grazed skin, but he pressed on, his amber eyes fixed on the dragon's maw.
With a final, desperate leap, he cleared the platform, tumbling onto the smooth stone within the shadowy interior of the dragon statue. He had made it.
Panting, bleeding from a dozen minor cuts, his training tunic in tatters, he pushed himself to his feet. The arena outside was silent, save for the groans of the fallen.
Then, the System flared, a triumphant cascade of light in his vision.
[Quest Update: The Gauntlet of Blades - COMPLETED!]
[Objective 1: Survive the second trial - COMPLETE!]
[Objective 2: Finish the second trial ranked in the Top 3 - COMPLETE! (Rank 1)]
[Bonus Objective: Earn the direct acknowledgment of Sword Sovereign Eldrin - PENDING…]
[Rewards Granted:]
• [Unlock Dragonheart Vigor's 3rd hidden trait (???)] – Awaiting revelation.
• [500 EXP (Total EXP: 1300/1000 -> Level Up!)]
• [Stars: ★★ (Swordsman Apprentice) -> ★★★ (Adept Knight)]
• [EXP: 300/2000 to next Star (Knight Commander)]
• [Title: Eldrin's Hopeful - Acquired! (Grants significant favor with Sword Sovereign Eldrin)]
• [Special Reward: One personal training session with Grandmaster Orin Oulbeck - Acquired!]
A wave of euphoria, quickly followed by profound exhaustion, washed over Liam. He had done it. Adept Knight. He was catching up to his past self faster than he'd dared hope.
As he savored the moment, a low, resonant chuckle echoed from the shadows deeper within the dragon's maw. "Impressive, young Lithian. Most impressive indeed."
Sword Sovereign Eldrin stepped into the faint light filtering from the arena, his cowled face still obscured, but the sheer weight of his presence was undeniable. His eyes, like chips of ancient ice, seemed to pierce Liam's very soul.
"You possess not just skill, boy, but a fire I have not seen in generations. A dragon's fire, perhaps?" Eldrin mused, his voice sending shivers down Liam's spine. "Grandmaster Orin will oversee your final trial. Succeed there, and we will speak of apprenticeships, and the true meaning of a bloodstained legacy."
The unspoken promise hung in the air, heavy with destiny. Liam felt a thrill, not of fear, but of fierce, unyielding determination. He would not just rewrite his legacy; he would forge a new one, in fire and dragon's blood, on the anvil of this second chance.