The referee's voice carried across the arena, amplified through crystal channels so no participant could miss a word.

"The rules for the Team Arena Preliminaries are as follows:

Every ten minutes, the arena space will shrink, pressing combatants closer and closer. The contractions will continue until only sixteen teams remain. Those who fall—whether by defeat or elimination—will be withdrawn immediately, returned to the academy grounds in safety. Remember, a single elimination of either beast or participant eliminates the whole team. Each participant has a max limit of three beast. Victory, however, belongs only to those who endure the shrinking battlefield."

A ripple of excitement coursed through the stands.

"Remember," he added, voice sharp, "alliances are permitted, betrayal is not punished. Survive however you must."

The crowd erupted in cheers, but for the competitors, the words sat like weights.

Light flared across the battlefield. Dark sigils spread beneath every participant's feet.

"Participants, prepare for entry!"

—

Aston barely had time to exchange a nod with his team before the world folded in. A wrenching pull seized him, and then—

He staggered forward into shadow.

The roar of the crowd was gone, replaced by the endless hush of trees. Vast trunks loomed in every direction, their canopies knitting into a ceiling of leaves that blocked much of the sky. Mist clung low to the roots, curling with every breath.

Team Eleven regrouped within moments, their beasts materializing beside them.

"Where are we?" Marcellus muttered, scanning the dim underbrush. His wolfhound prowled ahead, nose twitching.

"Endless forest," Aston answered, eyes narrowing. Mirage's wings glimmered faintly as she took off, vanishing into the canopy with barely a sound. "I'll check from above."

He shut his eyes, linking his senses with Mirage's. The world tilted. Sight shifted, body dissolving into weightless flight. Suddenly, he was above the treetops, the forest spreading out like a green ocean beneath.

Show me the terrain, Aston thought.

Mirage's vision sharpened. The forest stretched for miles, broken by ridges of stone and distant rivers of silver light. But it wasn't the terrain that chilled Aston's blood.

Above the treeline, dark shapes wheeled. Wings beat against the mist—four, no, five spirit beasts in flight—a hawk, a drake, a mechanical construct, a giant dragonfly, and a sparrow, their eyes scanning the canopy. Scouts for other teams. They saw each other—Mirage included.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

And if there were five airborne beasts, there were at least five people beneath them, already tracking positions.

Aston pulled free of Mirage's senses, heart steady despite the revelation. He dropped low, landing before his teammates.

"Move," he ordered, voice low. "Now."

"What? We just got here," Brennar grumbled, his construct clicking at his heels.

Aston's gaze swept the trees, sharp and unwavering. "We're exposed. They saw Mirage. There are at least five people that know exactly where we are. If we stay, we'll be surrounded."

The urgency in his tone silenced further debate. Marcellus tightened his grip on his weapon. Ivy's fox flickered with runes, tails swishing nervously. Selene pressed a hand over her dove, which cooed uneasily.

"Where to?" Ivy asked.

Aston glanced into the fog, recalling the terrain from Mirage's sweep. A ridge, not far from here, with broken stone cliffs. Cover, elevation, and choke points—better ground to hold.

"Follow me," he said. "And stay quiet."

Gray leapt from his shoulder, padding ahead with soundless steps, tail flicking like a blade through mist. Mirage wheeled above, a silent shadow against the treeline.

Team Eleven slipped into the forest's depths. The hunt had begun.

The forest pressed close around them, every rustle and distant cry sharpening the tension. Mist curled through the roots, hiding movement, but Aston's senses stretched thin, guided by Mirage's aerial sweeps.

Then—footfalls. Too many. Too close.

A squad emerged between the trees, four figures fanning out in practiced formation. Their beasts stalked at their sides: a horned boar snorting sparks, a copper-feathered hawk circling low, and two smaller familiars weaving between roots.

Marcellus tensed, his wolfhound snarling. Ivy raised a hand, her fox's sigils glowing faintly.

Aston didn't hesitate. "Marcellus—Iron Fang Charge. Ivy—Rune Snare. Now!"

Both froze, startled.

"How—?" Ivy blinked.

"You—" Marcellus turned to him.

"Do it!" Aston snapped.

Training overcame confusion. Marcellus surged forward, his wolfhound's jaws glowing with steel-essence as it slammed into the nearest opponent. At the same time, Ivy's fox spun into motion, runes igniting around its tails. Glimmering chains of light snapped across the trees, wrapping around the opposing beast handler before he could even react.

The boy's eyes went wide—then he collapsed, unconscious, essence bond snapping. His team gasped, their formations crumbling.

A bright flare lit the air. In an instant, the defeated group dissolved, bodies and beasts alike vanishing into shimmering motes—teleported back to their arena chamber.

Silence fell.

Marcellus turned, eyes wide. "How did you know the name of my beast's skill? That's not something I've shown in open duels."

Ivy's fox slunk close, tails bristling. She narrowed her eyes at Aston. "And Rune Snare… only my instructors should know I've mastered that already. What are you hiding?"

Aston met their gazes calmly, though Gray's tail flicked once like a blade behind him. "Nothing. I studied your beasts while we strategized earlier. I knew what they were capable of. I only told you what you already knew."

Their suspicion lingered, but beneath it was something else—unease mingled with reluctant trust. He had directed them like pieces on a board, and it had worked.

Selene broke the silence, voice quiet but steady. "Then maybe we should listen more carefully next time."

The group moved on, but the air had shifted. They had seen Aston's sharpness—not just his beasts, but his mind.

And for the first time, they wondered if following his lead might be the key to surviving the preliminaries.

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