The Khaeltrixen did not descend in a rush.

  They circled first.

  The membrane between their bone struts shimmered faintly with heat, as though the air around it were constantly burning. Scales along their underbellies reflected the molten glow of the fractured mountains below, turning them into moving shards of dusk and fire.

  The candidates felt their presence before the creatures attacked. Some froze, some ran, and a few prepared for battle.

  Ashara stepped onto a higher ridge and watched the beasts’ flight pattern. They did not move randomly. They traced slow arcs across the mountain range, tilting their heads downward as though measuring the terrain.

  “They are hunting,” he murmured.

  Below him, a cluster of five candidates began descending toward a narrow ravine, likely hoping to escape the aerial view. It was a mistake.

  One of the Khaeltrix noticed the movement.

  It folded its wings and dove.

  The air cracked.

  It struck like a falling star.

  The impact shattered stone and threw two of the five warriors aside before they could react. Its talons pierced rock and flesh alike, pinning one candidate to the ground. The scream lasted only a moment. The creature snapped its head sideways and hurled the body into the ravine.

  The remaining three scattered in different directions, but the beast exhaled something hotter than flame.

  A focused stream of incandescent vapor tore across the slope, liquefying stone and igniting what little vegetation had survived the earlier poison rain. One of the fleeing candidates stumbled, and the vapor swallowed him in an instant.

  When the vapor cleared, nothing recognizable remained.

  The number of survivors dropped again.

  From the viewing pavilion, the change in the arena’s tone was unmistakable.

  Eryndor exhaled slowly through his nose.

  “Those things are not real, are they?”

  Lirien kept her eyes fixed on the projection.

  “People say the Beastfolk are obsessed with creating perfect beasts.”

  “You are saying those creatures are engineered?” Eryndor raised his eyebrows.

  Lirien did not answer. She simply shrugged.

  Nakira leaned slightly forward in her seat, although her posture remained composed. The elders beside her exchanged measured glances. None of them spoke.

  The trial was unfolding exactly as it had been designed.

  The deaths were expected.

  Back in the pocket realm, heat and altitude began working together as the beasts descended and spread chaos across the mountains.

  Ashara felt the air thinning as he climbed higher along the ridge. His breathing shortened, but he kept his pace steady. The Khaeltrix had chosen lower ground for its first strike, but it would not ignore the peaks forever.

  To his left, the lion-kin candidate he had noticed earlier appeared along the ridge.

  Their eyes met briefly.

  Neither spoke.

  Both of them looked upward when the shadow of a Khaeltrix swept across the peaks.

  Its shriek split the air as it dove again, this time toward the higher ground.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The creature adjusted mid-flight and angled toward a cluster of four candidates who had taken shelter near a jagged summit.

  One of them raised a spear wrapped in mana and hurled it with impressive precision. The weapon struck the predator’s wing membrane and tore a visible rent.

  The beast screamed in fury but did not fall.

  Instead, it altered its approach and crashed onto the summit directly. The impact sent cracks racing across the rock. Two of the four candidates were thrown from the peak and vanished into the chasm below.

  The remaining pair fought back in coordination, striking at joints and exposed flesh.

  Ashara moved.

  He sprinted along the ridge and leapt across a narrow gap toward the battle. He descended toward the summit from the opposite side, his dagger already drawn.

  The Khaeltrix snapped its head toward him as he closed the distance.

  Its eyes glowed molten gold.

  Whether from instinct or intelligence, it recognized the threat.

  It lunged.

  Ashara dropped low and felt the heat of its jaws burn the air above his back. He rolled beneath the arc of its neck and came up inside its turning radius. The scales along its underside were thinner than the armored spine.

  He struck once.

  His blade bit shallowly.

  He struck again, angling upward, and drove his weapon into the creature’s wounded wing joint.

  The Khaeltrix thrashed.

  Its tail lashed across the summit, shattering stone and throwing all three fighters across the ground. Ashara slid toward the edge of the peak and stopped himself by hooking his heel against a rocky outcropping.

  The beast beat its damaged wings and forced itself back into the air, though not as smoothly as before. Dark fluid dripped from the torn membrane and hissed as it struck the heated rock below.

  It climbed higher.

  Ashara pushed himself upright, breathing heavily now.

  Meanwhile the remaining Khaeltrixen continued circling above the battlefield, but their pattern had changed. They avoided steep dives and instead favored lower sweeps and sudden strikes.

  They were adapting.

  But so were the candidates.

  Across the mountain terrain, the survivors began drifting toward higher ground, forcing the beasts to approach from riskier angles. Small temporary alliances formed and dissolved as necessity dictated.

  Outside the pocket realm, the spectators saw everything and reacted with a mix of horror and excitement.

  Eryndor leaned forward slightly with his elbows resting on his knees. His expression was serious, though the occasional playful smile still appeared.

  “Those beasts are fascinating,” he said.

  Garruk grunted. “I prefer the word dangerous.”

  On the elevated platform, Nakira watched the unfolding battle without much visible reaction.

  “Casualties seem higher this time,” she said calmly.

  “They are not children, Your Highness. They know the risks,” Mahrak replied quietly.

  “They are not expendable either,” she said. Her eyes remained on the battlefield.

  “They are approaching critical attrition.”

  Inside the realm, the Khaeltrix that Ashara had wounded began to falter.

  The damage to its wings and underbelly had slowed it significantly. Its final dive was less controlled, and it slammed onto a mid-level plateau with enough force to fracture the stone beneath it.

  Ashara saw the opportunity.

  He ran.

  So did the lion-kin and a wolf-kin nearby.

  Others on neighboring ridges converged instinctively as they sensed the shift.

  The beast attempted to take flight again, but one wing failed to extend fully.

  It staggered.

  The wolf-kin from the Vaashir clan leapt onto its back and drove twin blades into the seam along its spine. The creature roared and rolled, attempting to crush him beneath its weight. The wolf-kin quickly disengaged and retreated to a safer distance.

  Ashara closed the final gap and leapt forward.

  He drove his blade deep into the largest crack along the Khaeltrix’s throat. He twisted the weapon and pulled free just as the lion-kin delivered a crushing strike against the damaged wing joint.

  The beast convulsed.

  Light began building beneath its scales, brighter than before.

  For a moment it seemed as if it might explode.

  Instead, it shattered.

  Not into flesh, but into fragments of hardened energy that dissolved into sparks before they touched the ground.

  The summit fell silent.

  No sound. No movement.

  Then the sky above the mountains cleared and the heat receded.

  In the next instant, the three of them found themselves back in the arena.

  Soon after, one by one, others began to appear.

  The survivors.

  They stood scattered across the arena floor, breathing hard with their weapons still in hand. The number was small now. Perhaps only a quarter of those who had entered the second trial remained.

  Ashara thought quietly, So the trial ends once the Khaeltrix are defeated.

  He simply stood where he had reappeared and waited until the rest of the survivors arrived. He wiped blood, not all of it his own, from his blade and sheathed it.

  Among the audience, Eryndor exhaled slowly.

  “That,” he said with a quiet chuckle, “was not a friendly environment.”

  Garruk nodded.

  “Agreed.”

  “The third trial will not be easier.”

  Lirien remained silent, her gaze fixed on the survivors as they were gradually pulled from the pocket realm. Then, high above the arena, the horn finally sounded.

  The projection across the pavilion shimmered and slowly dimmed before folding away into nothing.

  Beastlord Nakira rose to her feet.

  “The second trial has ended,” she said, her voice carrying across the arena.

  “Those who remain and survived have passed the second trial.”

  “The third and final trial will resume in exactly three days.”

  She paused briefly before continuing.

  “Steel yourselves and prepare your hearts, for you have waded too deep into the tide to turn back now.”

  The crowd erupted into wild cheering after her words.

  They rose together in acknowledgment, hooves, boots, and voices striking the platform in loud approval.

  Ko-fi as to help me stay motivated and keep on writting.