The arena, once a cacophony of war cries and bloodshed, had fallen into a tense lull. The bodies of the fallen littered the sand, some sprawled, others curled into final, lifeless positions. Over half the teams had already been eliminated. The survivors, bloodied and breathless, stood in pairs—or alone if their partner hadn't made it—scattered across the battleground like fractured shards of a broken mirror.
And yet, all eyes now turned to the two newcomers.
They moved like whispers on wind, their black silk cloaks trailing behind them. Their faces remained hidden behind smooth, featureless masks that shimmered faintly in the dying sunlight. Even their weapons didn't look like any metal Ethan had ever seen—they pulsed with a dark blue glow, humming faintly like they were alive.
Ethan stepped in front of Alessia, whose wounds from the last fight were mostly healed but still tender. The strange pair exuded an energy unlike anything else in the arena. Not rage. Not bloodlust. But certainty. As if they already knew the outcome.
"They're not normal," Alessia murmured. "I've never felt anything like this."
Ethan nodded. Divinacea pulsed at his core, alert and on edge. Whatever these two were, they didn't belong.
The taller of the pair spoke first. Their voice echoed strangely, neither male nor female, but something in between. "You stand at a crossroads, Awakened. One path leads to elevation. The other... to erasure."
The second figure raised a hand, fingers spread. Blue energy gathered at the tips, swirling like mist. "We are the eyes of the divine. This trial was meant for twenty. But the gods have taken... an interest."
Gasps rippled through the remaining contestants. A few brave ones backed away. Others stepped forward, weapons raised.
Ethan's heart pounded. Were these people agents of the gods? Had the billionaire invited them? Or had they simply... arrived, like a natural consequence of the supernatural?
Alessia tapped his arm. "We can't let them do whatever they want."
But before Ethan could respond, another team made their move.
A pair of confident warriors—one wielding a massive warhammer, the other glowing with an internal golden aura—charged the cloaked figures.
"They bleed, they die!" the hammer-wielder roared.
He didn't reach them.
With a flick of the taller figure's wrist, the air shimmered. A sound like glass breaking rang out. Then, silence.
The hammer-wielder was gone.
Not dead. Just... vanished.
His partner screamed. But not in rage or grief—pure, unfiltered fear. He fell to his knees, dropping his weapon.
The shorter cloaked figure tilted their head. "You still wish to fight?"
Ethan didn't answer. He stepped forward.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice loud and steady. "Why are you here? This is our trial."
The tall one turned to him. "We are not here to steal your challenge, Healer. We are here to measure it."
Something about the way they said "Healer" sent chills down Ethan's spine.
Alessia joined him, arms raised. "Then measure us. But you don't get to decide who lives and dies."
A flicker of amusement echoed from behind the masks. Then, the cloaked ones moved.
Fast.
Faster than anything Ethan had seen.
One moment, they stood still. The next, Alessia was already parrying a strike that blurred through the air like lightning. Ethan's own instincts kicked in—Divinacea surged through his veins, sharpening his reflexes.
He ducked as the taller figure's blade cut through the space where his head had just been. His own palm met their wrist mid-strike. Healing energy surged on reflex.
The blade-wielder recoiled, staggering back a step. A shimmer of something cracked across their mask—pain? Surprise?
"You touched me," they whispered.
"You bleed like anyone else," Ethan replied, trying to hide how hard he was shaking.
Alessia, meanwhile, was a blur. Her reflexes gave her a fighting chance, and she used every ounce of her combat intuition to anticipate the opponent's next move. Still, she was being pushed back—just not overwhelmed.
The second cloaked figure fought with elegant detachment, as if analyzing more than attacking.
The duel raged. Sparks flew. Cries of the watching contestants rose in disbelief. But slowly, Ethan began to see something: their opponents weren't trying to kill them.
They were testing them.
And they were... holding back.
Ethan signaled Alessia silently. She nodded. It was time to change tactics.
As the taller figure lunged again, Ethan stepped forward—not to strike, but to press his palm against their chest.
Divinacea pulsed.
This time, he didn't just heal. He invited the figure's essence to meet his own. For the briefest moment, he felt it—a presence ancient, disembodied. Cold intellect wrapped in a cloak of judgment.
And it blinked.
The blade stopped inches from Ethan's face.
The cloaked figure staggered back and dropped to one knee.
"He... reached into me," it said, voice altered. "He saw."
The second one also stopped. Their weapon shimmered and vanished.
A new silence fell.
Then, the taller figure rose. "Trial satisfied."
They turned to the rest of the arena. "Your fates remain your own. We leave you now—not untouched, but... awakened."
With that, both cloaked ones stepped backward into the dust.
And vanished.
The surviving contestants looked at one another, breathless.
Ethan sagged, half-collapsing. Alessia caught him.
"What did you see?" she whispered.
He shook his head slowly. "Not what. Who."
A pause. Then, in a whisper only the wind could carry:
"The gods are watching."
The words lingered in the air, heavy with implication. One of the other contestants—Kara, a sharp-eyed girl who'd barely survived her last fight—stepped forward, voice low. "Are we supposed to believe we passed their test?"
"Maybe we did," Alessia answered. "Maybe only some of us did."
Ethan stood again, his balance steady. "This isn't over. It's not just a fight for survival anymore. It's a game of eyes—watchers, judges, players. They're shaping us for something else."
The battlefield was quiet again. In the distance, more gates opened. Time resumed. But something fundamental had changed.
Those who remained began gravitating toward new allies or drifting apart in solitude. Trust, already scarce, had become a luxury.
The Trial of Twos was far from over.
But now... it belonged to a different world.