The Huntsman, standing on the pole in the centre of the arena, slightly hunched from old age, scanned the audience focusing on the guests to ensure they were listening before speaking. "The objective of the initiation is to judge individuals competency, most noticeably, personality, resourcefulness, combat prowess and tenacity.

"During the trial, the Huntsmen from their representative groups will be able to bid on individuals that interest them, using our token system. When a person is eliminated, the Huntsman with the highest bid will collect them from the arena and take them to their section's head for induction. If there have been no bids, then the individual is free to sell their services at the auction in central plaza tomorrow and will leave the field as soon as possible. However, their safety is not guaranteed until they have passed the barrier and they must fend for themselves. I must also remind the guest representatives that there is a twenty percent finders feed applied to any successful recruitments."

The man let out a deep breath as if just speaking was extremely taxing. "This year there are fifty-one participants and the trial is expected to last anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours. During this time no one may enter or exit the arena, and the use of transmission crystals is prohibited."

The man's arms swept outwards. "That leads me onto the next point. The maze-like arena and it's many traps have been specially prepared for this event and, although there are no rules against participants actions against them, once the trial has started, there are charms and wards set up to eliminate any outside interference. If someone is foolish enough to attempt it, and if they survive the defensive spells, they will be punished severely."

A moment's silence passed as he let the threat sink in before continuing. "There are only two absolute rules. The first is that participants are expressly forbidden from killing each other. However, due to the nature of the trial and the difficulty holding back certain skills and abilities, they will not be accountable for any injuries inflicted or, if after the trial has ended, a participant succumbs to their wounds as long as it is deemed that the individual responsible did not intend to kill.

Most of the nobles nodded their heads at the Huntsmen's words. However, a few, who had never witnessed the Huntsmen induction before, started whispering to their neighbours, making sure they understood what his last statement truly meant.

Two such figures were the fat, red robbed man and thin woman but they soon fell into the silence as one of the nearby guests elaborated loudly. "A deterrent to stop the strong from wiping out the weak while giving those with... certain skills the flexibility to impress. Though few try to kill under the gaze of hundreds of trained professionals."

"Rember last year when someone got all their limbs ripped off and the wounds cauterised so they wouldn't bleed out." whispered another man to his companion, scratching is greying beard. "In this world, being disabled without strong backing is pretty much a death sentence yet, not a word was spoken of it. The woman responsible even got the highest bidding score."

The man's friend responded dryly. "The poor kid died from shock after the trial ended so she didn't break the rules."

The Huntsman cleared his throat, silencing the crowd. "Secondly, if a participant moves past the outer protective barrier, they are disqualified."

Flicking his wrist upwards, a sandy yellow, dome-like a shield became briefly visible, its bottom matching a dark, circular line a metre away from the arena's walls. "Now onto the format of the trial."

"Each participant will have a magically imbued plate, the size of a small fist, that they must wear, visibly, on their chests. The plate represents a single token and the participant's entry."

"These tokens are used to purchase weapons, armours, materials and anything else they may need while at our fortress as well as paying for the more advanced courses and unique skill training, so it is absolutely critical that students acquire as many of them as they can."

"There are three ways for an individual to be disqualified. Breaking one of the absolute rules already mentioned. Having their token stolen or having it destroyed."

"A broken token is worthless, and so, the participants must try to take them without breaking if they wish to have a head start in their new lives."

"A participant may destroy their own plate to remove themselves from the trial. If they do, they can keep any tokens claimed from others without the risk of them being stolen."

"Hmph, teaching them to quit while the going's good," snorted the fat man, his contempt growing for the overly complicated rules. "Let them duke it out and pick the winners."

The woman could only shake her head. "You don't become an organisation feared by the big three with brute strength alone. If anything, it's terrifying they are looking for these qualities straight off the bat. If this is the requirements for the raw materials, what would they become with half a decade's training?"

A few of the nearby guests nodded in approval of the woman's statement, choosing to ignore the man.

"The trial will be officially over when either, all the participants are eliminated or, last year's champion, Bruce Ironfist, is defeated. He will be stationed at the centre of the arena with an indestructible token worth fifty points. If all participants are eliminated, then he will claim the points as his own. If he is defeated, the tokens will be shared amongst the surviving members."

"And there is the teamwork side of things." chuckled the woman, her eyes burning with anticipation. "Everyone could be an ally or an enemy making this a game of wits as much as strength. This is so much better than Alzor's arenas."

As the Huntsman's words faded, a slow rumbling came from four opposite corners of the top of the coliseum as dark-grey slabs vertically lifted into the air. Bright blue lines on them matching the arena's layout on its surface.

After they had fully risen and slightly slanted forward, providing the correct angle for spectators to see, a small red dot appeared in the middle with a faint, green line leading to the edge, where a small info box appeared.

Name: [Locked], Age: 178, Rank : [Locked], Bid: 1 (Locked)

"The arena's status plates will provide the names and ranks of all participants. This way you will be able to keep track of who is engaged in what fight and the current bid. The are no blocking enhancements so the participants can see and use the information as they see fit."

Name: [Locked], Age: 102, Rank : [Locked], Bid: 0

Another red dot appeared at the edge of the plate and quickly threw a large knife at the man in the centre, the green lines glowed as their info boxes merged.

Name: [Locked], Age: 178, Rank : [Locked], Bid: 1 (Locked) VS Name: [Locked], Age: 102, Rank : [Locked], Bid: 0

Nodding his head to the new arrival, who quickly disappeared, the announcer lifted his arms into the air, causing fifty-one brown, runic circles to appear, equally spaced out, at the perimeter of the arena. "That's all. The trial will start in five minutes."

Two rows of people of varying size and species exited the single entrance and quickly positioned themselves on top of the circles. A few caused quiet murmurs from the Huntsmen and open statements of disbelief from the guests.

"The one with the golden scales looks like one of those new dragonkin species? I heard they only lived in Dragon's Retreat or the Cove."

"Look, that girl is an ice demon! What in the seven hells is one doing here?"

"A Haunting! I heard they were almost extinct after the Second Holy Crusade."

"Ahh, even a Nymph. Coming here is never a disappointment."

Walking lazily, the last one out of the tunnel was covered in a black cloak, its cowl covering his face as his dark, leather armour absorbed the light and was almost entirely ignored.

Unlike the others, this one did not carry any weapons and after stopping at the circle in front of him, let out a loud, uninterested yawn.

With the sound of stone grating, Rock leant forward until his head was in line with Verz. "Are you sure about this? I completely trust your judgement that he isn't a Sun Clan spy but... he caused Eth's death and doesn't seem to be taking this second chance seriously."

"We all make mistakes, and honestly, if I sensed the object of my hate lurking nearby, I doubt I would have been able to restrain myself either," sighed Verz. "If I could turn back time and save Eth, I would, but the past is the past. The Huntsmen are nothing more than a mean's to an end for me but you guys... are my only family, so I hope you understand I did not make this decision lightly. Oh, and don't let his act fool you, he is probably the most focused one out there."

Kelora shuffled forward and peered over the edge at Mors, her eyes narrowing. "He's... different than before. Before, it looked like a spirit possessing another's body, stiff and unbalanced but now..."

Verz chuckled, though it was clear she was still saddened by the previous topic. "The only thing demon's and dragons have in common is that they do not grow and improve with time like most other species, but through violent, life-threatening battles and near death experiences. You know the trolls in the south-west sector?"

Kelora and rock nodded once.

"Well, we no longer have to worry about culling their numbers for the next few years after what that little demon did in the name of eliminating his own weaknesses. Only a handful escaped back to their Den in the West, and they have already sent an envoy with offerings in exchange for protection from," Verz couldn't help but laugh, " the Harvester."

Kelora raised an eyebrow, deciding to ignore the fact the trolls were linking Mors to the God of Deaths, Mortal existence. "Are you sure? They are Knight rank or higher and are an extremely aggressive predatory species. There is no way an impulsive weakling like him could do that amount of damage. Even a Count ranked fighter, with unlimited time, would be hard pus-"

"Just watch," interrupted Verz as she noticed the announcer was about to begin. "Also why haven't you disabled the bidding for him? I am not going to share."

Kelora sat back in her chair, and with a few hand signals, one of the statuses on the large arena plates changed.

Name: Mors Letus, Age: 1 month, 1 week, Rank: Barron - 1 Star, Bid: Claimed.

Keeping a mind's eye on the fifty-three presences in the arena, which included the one hidden in the centre, Mors found his name on the status plate and frowned. "I really should ask someone about the ranking system. I have no clue what they mean."

The change in the writing caused Mors information to stand out and, as one, the arena almost exploded as people revealed their surprise. They had not really checked the board yet, preferring to focus after the first ten or so had been eliminated, however, noticing Mor's age and rank, they were shocked beyond belief. To have that amount of strength at such a young age was almost mythical.

Mors felt hundreds of eyes land on him, causing him to let out an irritated snort. "Fucking great. I bet she did that on purpose so I would be targeted from the start and watched like a hawk. So much for having some fun before things got serious.

The other participants, after noticing the commotion, checked the board and then looked in Mors' direction, even if they could not seem him due to the maze, caution, fear and... anger emanating from their eyes.

The only one's who didn't show this reaction was the ice demon, Ryen, and the demonic goblin, Beth.

Ryen shivered violently as she locked her face in grim resolve while the Beth couldn't help but excitedly hop up and down.

Verz and the other lieutenants had spent the last three days helping Ryen to try and overcome her trauma. She knew that in order to break the bond of complete submission she would first need to master her fear. The fear of the monster that lived in the sea of darkness, surrounded by an army of white spirits with glowing red eyes.

When she told Verz, the wolfkin had tried to explain it as the illusion of a skill or ability, but Ryen knew better. She had seen the beast in its true form. Now he was dreaming, but one day he would wake, and when he did, she did not want to be anywhere near.

Verz words, just before she left to meet Mors, resonated in her head. "Get as many tokens as you can and offer them to him when you meet, he will reject them, but his pride should stop him attacking you. This way you can get closer to him and get used to his presence. Only after that will you have a chance of regaining your freedom."

Ha, if I see him I will probably disgrace myself again. No matter what they say, I am not ready for this. I will get some tokens and forfeit. Kelora has already stated she will win the bid for me. I have nothing to prove to these... monkeys and scaled freaks.

A fireball erupted into the air, pulling the demoness from her thoughts, announcing the start of the trial as a thunderous voice boomed outwards. "BEGIN."