"Oh! Honey, I think it's starting!"

The owner of the Wyvern's Breath, a man with a strong build and an enchanting smile, sat in one of the many arenas dedicated to the first event of the Rising Stars Tournament.

"How ridiculous it is that we must shut down our restaurant for this…and with those trouble makers last night too! We lost significant business! I can't believe you let them stay!" His wife grumbled with her arms crossed.

The man then turned to his wife, an awkward smile on his face.

It was Regias, the one who had once been a gate guard from the small city of Plamodel.

He scratched the back of his head. "H-Haha… yes. Sorry, honey, but you have to understand, that person really wasn't someone we can offend, even here in Colosseo…Plus, they did apologize and offer to compensate us…."

Regias still remembered that day. How could he forget? It was the day he had decided to follow his dreams and open a restaurant with his wife instead settling down for the stable city guard position.

The reason he had done it still gave him nightmares at times. Few could speak of having been in the middle of confrontation between a high noble and a high-ranking member of the Temple.

His wife pouted, mumbling under her breath. "What was the point of even coming to Colosseo if we were going to prostrate ourselves before nobles regardless…"

Regias simply sighed and turned toward the center of the arena. 'I'll have to apologize properly later…'

—

In the arena, Verity stroked his chin with his eyes closed, reminiscing the events that occurred three days ago at the Wyvern's Breath.

'Did he say something about a 'Constant'...?'

Confusion. Distrust. That's all the Rune of Truth had shown him, little more than what was already obvious to the eye. On paper, a Primordial Rune sounded grand, sure to possess unfathomable power, but being able to vaguely tell which emotions another felt was about as much as Verity could manage.

That, and it made his head somewhat clearer too. Verity could only guess, but he could vaguely feel that some foreign force was limiting its power, and that the more he used the rune, the less the foreign force seemed to be intervening.

Its power was disappointing considering that Verity had quite literally died for it, but Verity could not complain. It was still a gain, and he had already set his mind on eventually trying to engrave more runes into his body… after taking more precautionary measures of course.

'That guy…isn't he just too much like a main character? I mean, he just pops out of nowhere, says something like 'he's not who you believe him to be..' and disappears looking all cool and whatnot. Seriously, he's not even hiding it…'

Yes, that is what bothered Verity the most, not the words the man had spoken, nor that he had drawn his sword on him.

Verity had no idea what those strange words could have alluded to regardless, and he liked to make a habit of not dwelling on what he could not control.

He clicked his tongue, and he mumbled to himself. "This man… he is not who you believe him to be…" He smirked like an idiot. "..Hehe, something like that, right?"

A young archer, shorter than Verity, tugged at Verity's sleeve. "Um, sir? Did you listen to the explanation at all?"

Verity's eyes widened and his head whipped toward the young archer. "...Ah, no. Were they important?"

The young archer laughed awkwardly. "Well, it's just that—"

The announcer's voice boomed louder than ever before. "Without waiting another second, by my authority as the Trial Overseer, let the first test of the soul commence! Open the gates!!"

Verity froze.

Why was he such an idiot?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He sighed and he equipped his trusted spear. Beside him, the young archer drew his bow, and all around them, the hundreds of challengers that filled the arena readied their weapons.

Thumping began to resonate throughout the ground, the heavy gates of the arena opened, and from them, a horrific sight emerged.

Or rather, it would have been horrific almost a year ago.

A legion of orcs stepped through the gates. Red skin, large battle axes, and fangs protruding from their lower mouths, they marched forward with malicious grins on their lips.

Most of the challengers scoffed, and a sense of relief washed over them.

"Oh, it's just orcs?"

"Here I was worried for nothing. I don't even see an orc chief, or even a legion commander."

"Ah, must be some ragtag group the organizers pulled together on short notice."

"With this many of us, there's really nuthin' to worry 'bout."

A mage raised his large wand. "If none of you mind, I'll get us started."

He began chanting.

"O flames of the ancestors,

flames that scorch,

flames that sear,

flames that consume,

flames that erase

Strike true, and turn my foes to ash! Flame Arrow!"

Five different flaming arrows flew toward the orcs, each of them raising a cloud of smoke upon impact. The mage smirked. "At this rate, this won't take long."

He prepared to chant another spell, but then, a crimson foot stepped through the smoke. It was the orc which had just been hit. Its grin had grown wider, and it kept on moving forward as if nothing had happened.

Snickers could be heard among the challengers, and the mage's face flushed. "T-They must have given it some sort of artifact!! I shall prepa–"

A large woman wielding an axe and wearing animal pelts pushed the mage aside. "No need, weakling. Leave this to the likes of me."

With a booming war cry, she rushed toward one of the orcs at the forefront of the march, and she swung her axe with all her might.

Her eyes widened upon impact.

Her axe did not even make a dent in the orc's skin.

And then the orc tore her arm off with one hand before kicking her away. She screamed loud enough for her vocal chords to break.

Silence now reigned over the challengers. No matter if that woman was weak or not, if she was here, she should at the very least have been able to damage an orc. Perhaps not kill it, but it should have suffered a wound.

And yet, there it stood, unharmed, grinning.

A mage from the Second Magic Tower used a Wind spell to fly into the air, and she then used Sound category spell to make her voice louder. "Do not panic! Clearly, these orcs are more powerful than the norm, but if we work togeth—"

A mace split the air and with ungodly precision, and it tore the right part of her jaw off. She plummeted to the ground, holding the gaping hole in her mouth and unable to speak.

A challenger beside her widened their eyes. "H-Hey, wasn't that Chiara…? She's a pretty famous Third-class Magus where I'm from...!"

Another stumbled back. "She didn't even have time to cast a barrier spell…!!"

The challengers were now wary, but there was no panic, not yet. These were all hardened adventurers, knights, mages and those who had faced impossible odds countless times.

They all gripped their weapons tighter, preparing all sorts of counterattacks, but the orcs did not give them time to think. One of them screamed, and they all charged, the march now turning into a full blown stampede.

What ensued was simply put, a massacre.

It left even some of the audience unable to cheer or enjoy the moment. Regias and his wife had to look away at times, not expecting this level of brutality.

Limbs were torn, crushed, or ripped apart. If they listened closely, one could hear screams, pleads for salvation, surrenders, and desperate cries from the challengers. It was as though the city of trials had brought all of the promising youth of the continent and they had thrown them into a slaughterhouse.

"T-This… has the Emperor approved of this madness…?" A noble lady said in the audience, holding a fan over her contorted face.

Verity, for his part, stood still near one of the walls of the arena as the massacre was under course.

He had come to a conclusion some time ago.

The system periodically repeated a notice in his mind. [The sub-skill -Indomitable Will- is in full effect. You have resisted the effect of an attack.]

Then there were his eyes, and what the rune of Truth told him through them. "I don't feel anything at all from these guys. No malice, no hunger, nothing at all. It's like they're robots."

Verity's instincts had been hardened by Evangelina, so he was not adept at detecting danger, but he felt nothing from these orcs whether through that nor through the rune of Truth.

The archer from earlier stood not too far from Verity, surprisingly calm. He tilted his head. "Sir? Do you have some sort of plan?" He asked.

Verity shook his head. "Not really, no."

The archer let out a hollow laugh, as if he'd been talking to an under-performing classmate, and he turned his attention back to the slaughter.

Verity had not said that because he had given up, however. In fact, it was just that he did not need a plan, since every single one of these orcs was fake.

Of course, this raised one question. If he could tell, how come most of the other challengers could not? Verity believed that this was linked to his sub-skill, [Indomitable Will], activating. Some sort of skill, or spell had been cast over the participants, to make them afraid, to force them to abandon their cold logic and rationality.

That skill, however, was not working on him, or at least not fully. His hands trembled at his side, but that was it, he was still sound of mind.

An orc jumped into the air, and it landed right before Verity. It towered over him, and drool dripped front the corner of its mouth.

"Grak Vorr!!" It screamed.

Verity scrunched his nose, but only because of the smell. These fakes had been well made.

The orc, thirsty for blood, crouched, and it gripped Verity's head. It huffed in his face twice, and it then screamed with all his might.

Verity's face turned green. The smell was truly nauseating.

Verity then tilted his head. "Now what? Judging from the others, you have to scare a great deal before you do anything, right?"

The orc paused, and it almost seemed to click its tongue. In one swift motion, it stood straight once more. It raised its war axe, and it swung down at Verity, splitting him in half before he could react or do anything to defend himself.

At that very moment, Verity's eyes opened to an entirely new scenery. His head spun and a strong sense of disorientation overcame him, forcing him to one knee.

'Woah, what the–'

An older man with a grey beard approached him. "That's a pass. Now extend your arm."

Verity, still in shock due to being thrown out of the illusion so abruptly, extended his arm, and the old man stamped an unknown symbol onto his wrist.

Verity raised his gaze, and he quickly noticed that there were two kinds of challengers around him. There were those who foamed at the mouth, collapsed on the ground, and those who were still conscious. Those who had not passed out bore the same symbol as him on their arm.

Verity scoffed.

He had passed the first trial of the Soul - Faced with Death.

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