Silence stretched across the arena long after the cloaked figures vanished, as if their presence still lingered in the dust and air. Ethan remained on one knee, catching his breath. His body trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the raw aftermath of what he had touched. That being. That force. That intellect. He hadn't merely glimpsed into power—he had been weighed by it, measured, and, for now, spared.
Around him, the surviving contestants stood in scattered clusters, uncertain, rattled. The crowd that had once been filled with cries of battle now stood mute, absorbing the magnitude of what had just occurred. Those two weren't challengers. They weren't contestants. They had been something else entirely—sentinels, perhaps. Judges. Or worse.
Alessia remained beside him, her breathing labored but her stance protective. Her reflexes had saved her life more than once today, but even she looked shaken.
"They weren't human," she finally said, voice just above a whisper.
Ethan shook his head. "No. Not even close."
She crouched next to him, eyes scanning the arena, then leaned close. "You said you saw something… someone. Who were they?"
He looked down at his hands, now still. The glow of Divinacea was faint, like an ember after a storm.
"I think they were servants of the gods," he said. "And I think they were here for us. To see if we're ready."
Alessia didn't ask what he meant by 'gods.' She had seen enough by now to stop questioning the impossible. Instead, she nodded and helped him to his feet.
Other contestants were doing the same, gathering their fallen partners, mourning the lost, and tending to wounds with quiet urgency. A few came toward Ethan and Alessia—not in hostility, but reverence.
"You stood your ground," said a man with a bloodied bandage across his brow. "You didn't flinch."
"I felt it," said another, a tall woman with two blades strapped to her back. "When you touched them… something changed."
Ethan said nothing. The attention made him uneasy, but not because of pride or modesty. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt like a man who had wandered too close to a sleeping dragon and lived only because the beast was curious.
A voice crackled from above. It was artificial, cold, filtered through hidden speakers.
"Contestants. Return to your resting quarters. The remainder of the day is yours to recuperate. Tomorrow… the final match of this trial will commence."
Final match?
Ethan turned to Alessia, who frowned. "We're not done yet."
She was right. The 2v2 death match trial wasn't over. The gods had simply… interrupted. Tested them. But the original rules still applied. Only the winning teams would advance. And that meant there were more fights ahead.
They were escorted through steel doors back into the compound, where dim hallways led them to individual rooms lined in sterile white. Ethan's door slid shut behind him with a hiss.
He collapsed onto the cot, staring at the ceiling. His mind wouldn't stop spinning. He replayed the fight, the words of the cloaked beings, and the way they had recognized him—called him Healer. Not by his name. By his power.
Divinacea.
It still pulsed inside him, quieter now, but awake.
He focused on it. For the first time, he could almost feel its shape—like vines of radiant energy intertwined with his nerves. It responded to thought, to intent. He had used it to heal wounds, to cleanse infections… but today, he had used it for something new.
To see.
He hadn't known he could do that. Hadn't intended to. But when he touched the cloaked being, his power had reached into them, pulled something forth. Not just healed… understood.
Was that the true nature of Divinacea?
He needed answers.
Hours passed. Food was delivered—a bland tray of protein, starch, and greens. Ethan ate mechanically, barely tasting it. Eventually, he was summoned by a familiar face.
Ravi.
One of the prior contestants from earlier rounds, now apparently acting in a coordinator role. He stood at the doorway with a tablet in hand and a grim look.
"You and Alessia have been summoned," he said.
Ethan followed him without question. They moved through sterile hallways until reaching a round chamber. Inside, a table glowed with a map of the trial layout. Alessia was already there, standing across from a man in a white military-style uniform.
The man turned. His eyes were pale green, his skin tanned from years of sun. He looked young, but something about his posture screamed authority.
"I am Marshal Thorne," he said. "One of the Warden-class observers. I've come to clarify what happened today… and what comes next."
Ethan stiffened. A Warden?
Thorne seemed amused by the reaction. "No need to panic. I'm not here to judge you. That honor belonged to the pair you met in the arena. They are called Sentinels. They test Awakened and Chosen when the gods are… interested."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "What did they see in us?"
Thorne smirked. "Enough to pause judgment. Enough to let the trial continue. You're not the first Healer they've examined. But you are the first to touch one and walk away."
"So we passed?" Alessia asked.
"In a sense," Thorne replied. "But your actual trial isn't over. You've been matched against one final team. The best of the surviving pairs."
A screen lit up. Two faces appeared. Ethan recognized them instantly.
The woman with the twin blades.
And the man with the bloodied bandage who had spoken to him after the battle.
"They want you," Thorne said. "They requested the final match. Specifically against you."
Ethan felt his stomach twist. "Why?"
Thorne shrugged. "Some say glory. Others say faith. Maybe they think defeating the 'Healer who touched the divine' makes them worthy."
Alessia crossed her arms. "Or they're scared of what he might become and want to stop it now."
Thorne's smirk returned. "Smart girl."
He turned off the display. "The final match is tomorrow morning. Win, and you move on to the Chosen trial. Lose, and... well. You won't have to worry about the gods anymore."
Ethan nodded. "We'll be ready."
Thorne moved toward the exit, then paused. "For what it's worth," he said without turning back, "you've already gone further than most. But don't get cocky. Ascending makes you a target. From enemies... and from the divine."
He left.
Back in their shared training room, Alessia cracked her knuckles. "You ever sparred against twin blades before?"
"Not since I had powers," Ethan admitted.
"Then we train now."
The two of them moved through a rhythm, not just to sharpen their reflexes, but to understand each other. Alessia fought with anticipation—she predicted movements, danced around them. Ethan adapted—healed bruises instantly, learned from each hit.
"Don't hold back," Alessia warned.
"I won't," he said—and meant it.
They trained until their bodies ached and sweat soaked their clothes. Ethan pushed Divinacea in new ways—trying to delay fatigue, to numb pain, to sharpen his clarity in combat. It responded sluggishly at first, like a new muscle being tested.
"You think we're ready?" Alessia asked, collapsing beside him after hours.
"I think we'll never feel ready," Ethan replied. "But we've survived worse."
A pause.
"I'm glad you're my partner," he added.
She looked over, a rare softness in her eyes. "Me too."
As night fell over the compound, Ethan lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He thought of the others who had died. The team who vanished. The Sentinels. The gods. The next fight.
And the path ahead.
Awakened. Chosen. Ascendant. Warden. Demigod. God.
He was only one step above Human now. But even from here, he could see the mountain.
And he was ready to climb.