The dawn broke over the Nexus, painting the sky between the colossal spires with the hues of three different suns – a soft gold, a fierce crimson, and a pale, ethereal blue.

The city, usually a chaotic symphony of a million different lives, had a new, focused energy today. Streams of beings, thousands upon thousands of them, flowed through the designated transit corridors, all heading towards one destination: the Sector Gamma Arenas.

Rhys moved with the current, just another anonymous figure in the vast, multi-species river. He wore the same simple, durable traveler's clothes he had registered in, the small metallic data chip identifying him as Combatant 7,842,912 clipped securely to his belt.

His face was the unremarkable mask he had maintained for the past month, his brown eyes showing a carefully controlled mixture of nervousness and determination. Inside, however, his mind was a calm, cold lake, his senses fully expanded, observing everything.

The Sector Gamma Arenas were located in a dedicated district on the lower levels of the Nexus. As they descended through the city's transport network, the architecture became less ornate, more functional, vast structures of grey metal and reinforced plasteel replacing the elegant crystal spires above. The arenas themselves were a colossal complex, a sprawling labyrinth of interconnected domes and massive, sealed structures that covered several square miles.

He followed the glowing directional signs towards Gate 17. The crowd grew denser, the air thick with anticipation and the raw, untamed energy of millions of hopefuls. He saw beings sharpening claws, chanting quiet mantras, checking energy levels on wrist-mounted devices. The sheer diversity was staggering, but the underlying ambition was universal. Everyone here believed they had a chance. Everyone wanted the prize.

Gate 17 was a massive archway, fifty feet high, leading into a cavernous, dimly lit waiting hall. Thousands of participants were already gathered, a chaotic sea of different shapes, sizes, and energy signatures. Floating announcement drones zipped through the air, their synthesized voices repeating the trial rules in a dozen major galactic languages.

Rhys found a quiet corner near the back, leaning against a cool metal wall. He closed his eyes, not to rest, but to observe. His divine senses easily pierced the chaotic energy of the hall, cataloging the power levels around him. He felt the sharp, focused energy of trained warriors, the wild, untamed power of cultivators from primitive worlds, the cold, calculating auras of assassins, and the arrogant, overwhelming presence of young masters from powerful families. He was, as he had intended, utterly unremarkable in this crowd. His carefully suppressed Tier 4 aura barely registered among the sea of Tier 5s and the occasional, hidden Tier 6 expert.

After what felt like an hour, a deep, resonant chime echoed through the hall. The noise died down instantly. A section of the far wall slid open, revealing not a door, but a shimmering, unstable field of pure, white energy.

"Group 7843, prepare for transit," a loud, synthesized voice boomed from hidden speakers. "Enter the transit field in an orderly fashion. The trial will commence upon arrival. Rules are simple: survive. Only the final ten will advance. Good luck, combatants."

A wave of nervous energy passed through the crowd. This was it. Rhys felt the push of bodies around him as the group surged towards the white energy field. He moved with them, keeping his footing, his expression unchanging.

He stepped into the transit field. For a moment, his senses were overwhelmed by a feeling of pure, chaotic energy, a sensation of being pulled apart and reformed at the same time. Then, just as quickly, it was over.

He found himself standing not in a hall, but under an alien sky. He was in a dense, humid jungle. Massive, purple-leafed trees towered over him, their thick, gnarled roots forming a tangled web across the muddy ground. Strange, brightly colored insects buzzed in the thick air, and the distant calls of unknown creatures echoed through the dense foliage.

He was not alone. All around him, a thousand other combatants materialized, appearing in a scattered, random pattern across a wide area of the jungle.

For a single, tense second, there was silence. Then, chaos erupted.

The nearest combatants immediately turned on each other. A hulking, reptilian warrior with four arms roared and charged a slender, feline-like being. Energy blasts, strange projectiles, and the clash of exotic weapons filled the air. Alliances were meaningless. Trust was a liability. In this first, brutal culling, the only goal was to eliminate the weakest and secure your own survival.

Rhys did not join the initial frenzy. He melted into the shadows of a massive, purple-leafed tree, his form blending seamlessly with the gloom. He watched, his eyes cold and analytical. He saw dozens of the weaker participants, those whose cultivation was barely Tier 3, cut down in the first few minutes. He saw small, temporary alliances form as groups ganged up on stronger individuals. He saw lone predators, like himself, using the chaos to pick off isolated targets.

He identified the immediate threats near his position. A trio of insectoid warriors, their movements fast and coordinated. A lone, heavily armored cultivator whose body pulsed with a powerful earth-based energy. A small, almost invisible creature that moved through the undergrowth like a shadow.

He decided to act. He could not afford to let potential threats consolidate their position. He moved through the shadows, his steps silent on the damp jungle floor.

He reached the trio of insectoids first. They were busy finishing off a wounded opponent. Rhys did not announce his presence. He formed three Twilight Edge blades in his hand. He flicked his wrist. The silent, black projectiles shot through the air.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Three silent bursts of white light. The insectoids collapsed, their carapaces cleanly punctured, their life force extinguished before they even knew they were under attack. Rhys was gone before their bodies hit the ground.

He moved towards the earth cultivator. The man was standing his ground, his powerful aura creating a small, clear space around him. He saw Rhys approach and let out a challenging roar. He slammed his fists onto the ground, and sharp spikes of rock erupted from the earth, shooting towards Rhys.

Rhys did not dodge. He simply adjusted his Veil of the Ordinary, making his aura flare slightly, mimicking the bright, energetic signature of a Light affinity cultivator. He held up his hand, and a small, controlled burst of pure white light erupted from his palm – a carefully disguised manifestation of his Twilight Edge's secondary effect. The light met the rock spikes, shattering them into harmless pebbles.

The earth cultivator stared in surprise. Rhys used that moment. He activated Low-distance Jump, appearing directly behind the man. He did not use a killing blow. He brought the edge of his hand down in a sharp, precise chop to the back of the cultivator's neck. The man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious. Rhys quickly stripped him of his identification chip – proof of elimination – and melted back into the shadows. He was minimizing his kills, focusing on disabling when possible, maintaining his cover.

He spent the next few hours moving through the jungle. He avoided large-scale battles, preferring to pick off isolated targets or small, overconfident groups. He used his disguised Light affinity sparingly, making it seem like a powerful but limited trump card. Mostly, he relied on his superior speed, his perfect combat instincts, and the element of surprise. He was building a reputation, not as a powerhouse, but as a lucky, slippery survivor.

As he moved, he also observed the environment. The jungle was not just a backdrop. It was an active participant in the trial. Strange, carnivorous plants would lash out with thorny vines. Clouds of poisonous insects would descend without warning. Occasionally, the ground would tremble, and a massive, simulated beast – a six-legged jungle titan covered in thick, green fur – would crash through the trees, scattering the participants and forcing new, desperate confrontations.

Rhys used these environmental hazards to his advantage. He would lure pursuers into the path of a giant, snapping flower. He would use the chaos caused by a rampaging beast to slip away unnoticed, or to finish off a weakened opponent discreetly.

Hours passed. The number of participants dwindled rapidly. Rhys estimated that less than three hundred remained. The trial zone itself began to shrink, invisible energy walls slowly closing in, forcing the survivors into a smaller, more concentrated area.

He found himself near a wide, muddy river. On the opposite bank, he saw a large, organized group of about thirty participants. They wore matching armbands, the symbol of a minor mercenary guild Emma had identified: the Star Vipers. They were led by a tall, reptilian woman with cold, yellow eyes and a long, energy whip coiled at her side. She was clearly a Tier 5 expert, and her guild members were disciplined and well-equipped. They were systematically clearing their side of the river, eliminating any smaller groups or individuals they encountered.

Rhys knew he could not avoid them forever. The shrinking zone would eventually force a confrontation. He decided to act first, on his own terms.

He waited until the Star Vipers were engaged in a messy fight with another small group. Under the cover of the battle's chaos, he slipped into the muddy river. He moved silently beneath the surface, his senses guiding him. He emerged on the opposite bank, behind the Star Viper's main formation.

He targeted their leader. He knew that taking her out quickly would break their cohesion. He used Shadowed Dive, his form a black blur that shot from the riverbank.

The reptilian leader sensed him at the last moment. She spun around, her energy whip lashing out like a striking snake. Rhys met the whip not with his sword, but with a perfectly timed Spark Fist. He kept the explosion small, contained, just enough force to neutralize the whip's energy.

Boom.

The whip recoiled. In that split second, Rhys was past her guard. He did not go for a kill. He slammed his palm into her chest, releasing a focused pulse of pure, neutral Qi. It was not a destructive blow, but a disruptive one, designed to overload her energy channels.

The leader gasped, her yellow eyes wide with shock as her own power turned against her. She stumbled back, momentarily paralyzed.

Rhys did not press the attack. He used Low-distance Jump again, instantly appearing back on the other side of the river, melting into the jungle shadows just as the other Star Vipers realized their leader was down.

Confusion erupted in their ranks. Their coordinated assault fell apart. Rhys watched from the shadows as the group they had been fighting seized the opportunity and launched a counter-attack. The Star Vipers, leaderless and disorganized, were quickly overwhelmed.

Rhys slipped away, leaving the two groups to finish each other off. He had eliminated a major threat without revealing his true strength, reinforcing his image as a cunning opportunist.

The final hour of the trial arrived. An announcement echoed through the jungle: the safe zone would shrink to a small, central clearing in ten minutes. Only the ten survivors who reached the clearing would advance.

Rhys ran. He pushed his speed, weaving through the dense jungle. He could hear the sounds of desperate, final battles all around him. He saw flashes of powerful skills, remnants of fierce struggles.

He burst into the central clearing. It was a wide, open space, empty except for a single, glowing blue pillar in the center. About fifteen other combatants were already there, eyeing each other warily. The invisible walls were closing in fast. There were too many survivors.

A final, brutal fight erupted. There were no alliances now. It was every being for themselves. Rhys found himself facing a pair of avian warriors with sharp talons and feathered wings. They attacked him with aerial dives and energy blasts.

He fought defensively, using his "Light" affinity shield and precise sword strikes. He allowed himself to be pushed back, to appear tired, injured. He took a glancing blow to the shoulder, letting out a convincing grunt of pain.

Then, he saw his chance. The two avians, overconfident, attacked him simultaneously from different angles. He waited until the last possible second. Then, he dropped low, letting them pass over him. As they did, he unleashed two perfectly aimed Twilight Edge blades, one for each of them.

Flash. Flash.

The two avians dissolved into dust.

He looked around. The clearing was suddenly quiet. Only nine other figures remained standing. They were all wounded, exhausted, their eyes wary. They had seen his final, "desperate" counter-attack. They saw him as a lucky survivor, not a hidden threat.

The glowing blue pillar in the center pulsed, and a synthesized voice announced: "Trial complete. Ten survivors confirmed. Proceed to the extraction point."

A shimmering portal opened beside the pillar. Rhys walked towards it, leaning slightly, favoring his "injured" shoulder. He had done it. He had survived the first culling. He was one step closer to the tournament, one step closer to the Seal. He stepped through the portal, leaving the bloody jungle simulation behind him.

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