North Side of the Trial Grounds
Middle of Monster Territory
The winds howled faintly, brushing past thick foliage as silence ruled over the wild land.
Perched high in the arms of a gnarled, ancient tree, Razeal sat with one leg dangling lazily, concealed within a dense thicket of leaves and branches. His violet eyes flickered with calculated anticipation, locked onto the pale marble platform far below.
"Preparations are all set. Now…"
He leaned back against the bark with a soft, amused sigh,
"All I have to do is wait for the rat to take the bait."
It had only been ten minutes since he'd been teleported here ten minutes since he tricked death itself and signed a Blood Spirit Contract with Kaeryndor, the eternal guardian of the Dragon Heart.
It should've taken even less time, honestly. But Razeal had insisted Kaeryndor fully customize the pocket secret realm and carve the inscription onto the stone tablet exactly as he required.
Not that Razeal actually used the secret realm in the usual way.
Oh, no.
He'd butchered its traditional purpose entirely.
Most people would use a pocket realm for training, hiding, or survival. A miniature dimension a priceless treasure hoarded by sect masters and monarchs.
But Razeal?
He turned it into a damn stage.
Literally.
The secret realm had been condensed and anchored here a white marble platform, suspended slightly above the ground like a sacred altar. Open on all sides, glowing faintly under the moonlight, and almost impossible to miss even from several miles away.
A gleaming pillar rose from its center, and atop it stood a stone tablet, inscribed with glowing ancient text that shimmered like firelight caught in crystal.
It was the ultimate attention grabber.
No stealth. No secrecy.
Pure spectacle.
"No one uses pocket realms this wastefully…"
Even the System had muttered in disbelief earlier.
"It's basically a glowing billboard for your enemies to shoot at!"
But Razeal didn't care.
It needed to be seen.
Because what mattered… was who would see it.
On the front of the stone tablet, etched in majestic Draconic script, a riddle burned softly with ethereal light:
Where fire sleeps and silence sings,
The Dragon's Heart beneath flame clings.
To tread the path, let power rise
Or fall in ash 'neath shattered skies.
One thousand cores, in balance laid,
Shall wake the flame where none have stayed.
But woe to those who dare unfit,
The pyres feast where cowards sit.
Let only strength and will remain,
The weak shall die, the bold shall reign.
Originally, Razeal had just wanted it to say something like,
"Pay 1000 elemental cores to enter the Dragon Heart Trial."
But Kaeryndor being the dramatic spirit-bound warden that he was insisted on writing it his own way.
"If the person is worthy," Kaeryndor had said, "they'll understand the message. If not, they're not worthy. That's all there is to it."
Razeal didn't argue.
Let the old dragon spirit have his poetry.
Because at the end of the day, the stage was set.
Baited. Visible. Compelling.
"Come to the platform."
"Pay the price."
"Get a chance at the Dragon Heart."
That was the unspoken promise written in light and power.
And Razeal knew one thing for certain if he went directly to the protagonist, the so-called "hero," and said:
"Hey, I found something valuable. Follow me."
That guy would sooner stab him through the chest than listen.
Razeal's reputation alone would guarantee that.
He was a villain in everyone's eyes.
Tainted. Rapist. Shame, Not to be trusted blah blah balh bullshit.
So, instead of words… he crafted a lure.
Let the hero come chasing power instead of following him.
Let him walk into the trap of his own desire.
"And when he does," Razeal muttered under his breath, his smile curling darkly,
"that's when the game begins."
Five more minutes later.
Razeal shifted slightly on the branch, the bark rough against his palm.
"Tch… Just how long is that bastard going to take?" he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with equal parts irritation and anticipation.
Every passing second felt like another itch beneath his skin. The waiting wasn't hard… it was excruciating.
His posture was tense. The bark beneath him was rough and uncomfortable, the leaves scratching at his skin. But he didn't move.
He couldn't afford to.
Not yet.
Down below, the marble platform stood like a temple in the wilderness, glowing faintly, beckoning.
The trap was perfect. The performance was ready.
Only the main actor was missing.
[Host… giving up the Dragon Heart just to collect elemental cores this is not worth it. Not even close.]
The System's tone was drenched in fatigue, as though it had aged centuries just watching Razeal operate.
[That relic is a mid-to-late arc artifact. The protagonist was never supposed to get it until at least three years into the story's main timeline. We're in the beginning! This is basically handing him a cheat code and wrapping it in a pretty bow.]
Razeal didn't even glance up. His violet eyes were locked onto the glowing marble platform below the bait.
His lips twitched.
"When did I ever say that getting a few cores was my only goal?"
A smirk crept across his face. "You're still thinking too small, System."
He reclined slightly on the branch, resting his back against the thick trunk. The wind ruffled his hair gently, brushing against his cheek like a phantom whisper.
"Calm down. I've calculated every angle, every consequence. Everything."
"Just having the Dragon Heart doesn't make someone unstoppable.. atleast not now. There's a reason he was meant to find it years later."
Razeal paused, gaze sharpening like a dagger under moonlight.
"Right now, his body is weak. His mana circuits are underdeveloped. His foundation? Barely stable."
"Giving him the Dragon Heart now is like… handing a greatsword forged for gods to a toddler."
"It won't make him powerful. He won't wield it. It'll wield him."
A short silence passed. The System, unconvinced but cautious, finally responded:
[I understand the metaphor. But statistically, you're still giving him a massive shortcut.]
[By obtaining the Dragon Heart now, he'll accelerate far beyond schedule. My projections estimate he'll reach the strength meant for Year Three within just one year, maybe less. This is a dangerous variable. A reckless move.]
Razeal's smile didn't fade.
If anything, it grew colder.
"Then let him reach that level," he said softly, eyes glowing with eerie calm.
"Because if I can't crush him within a year with a system and future knowledge of my own then I don't deserve to win this game."
The leaves around him rustled, almost in agreement. Or perhaps in warning.
But Razeal wasn't done.
He leaned forward, tone dropping into something more dangerous more predatory.
"Besides… those one thousand elemental cores? That's just Phase One of the operation."
"I won't just take a profit…" His voice dropped to a whisper, cold and cruel.
"I am going to suck everything dry ."
The System didn't respond after that.
What was there to say?
Suddenly
Razeal's ears twitched.
Footsteps.
His pupils narrowed, and a slow breath slipped from his lungs. "They're here," he whispered in his mind.
Without moving an inch, he steadied his breath and silenced even the beat of his heart, sinking deeper into the natural camouflage of the thick canopy. Nestled high in the crown of a towering tree, he remained motionless, each leaf and shadow a shield against the approaching presence.
He couldn't afford even the slightest sound not the creak of a branch, not the brush of fabric. One wrong move, and it was over. Not just for him, but for the elaborate plan he had spun from threads of deception and foresight.
His only saving grace: Aeron, the protagonist, wasn't particularly sharp when it came to sensory talents. That man was a frontline warrior brute force incarnate. The kind who charged into battle like a storm, smashing through everything in his path with strength, not subtlety.
And fortunately for Razeal, his followers were cut from the same cloth blunt edges in a game that required precision.
Had it been Selene, the Saintess, or Sylva Faerelith with her army of whispering spirits, he wouldn't have stood a chance. Those two were like wind and silk sensitive to even the faintest tremor in mana. Just their proximity would've ripped through his veil of stealth like fire through dry parchment.
As for why he had chosen this particular spot high up in a tree whose branches stretched like skeletal arms above the monster-infested wilds. Monsters rarely climbed, too large and heavy for the delicate balance of branches. It was one of the few safe zones monsters ignored, and people, in turn, never thought to search.
From up here, he had a perfect vantage leaves veiled him, but through the gaps, he saw everything below. From the ground looking up, however, the leaves were a fortress.
And then, the silence broke a chorus of distant footsteps. A soft clang of steel against steel. Voices, low but disciplined.
Razeal's eyes sharpened.
Dozens no, nearly eighty people or more were moving as one unit, weaving through the forest like a hunting pack. Some wore glimmering metallic armor, others preferred lighter gear, but the coordination was undeniable. Knights, mages, archers, assassins every class was present, a mobile army cloaked in lethal purpose.
They moved with trained precision. No wasted motions. No mindless chatter.
And at the helm of this formidable force walked two figures side by side.
One, clad in deep crimson armor with matching long hair that gleamed under the filtered sunlight. His crimson eyes were sharp, calm, and utterly commanding. Mana radiated from him in palpable waves, the sword at his waist practically humming with pressure.
Aeron Dragonwevr.
Razeal's eternal enemy. The golden child of fate. The Chosen One.
Five years.
The last time he had seen this man, they had both been children standing on opposite ends of fate's cruel game board. Now, Aeron walked like a king in waiting, tall and broad shouldered, every step radiating strength and confidence. His presence was magnetic undeniably heroic.
He's grown, Razeal noted silently, eyes following the protagonist's form with a strange, quiet detachment. A little taller. A little sharper. The same flame behind his eyes, just stronger now.
We are so different now Razeal realised he who is hiding on tree weak anf powerless and him standing tall like a king.
Sighh he just sighed.
But then his gaze shifted.
And whatever fleeting sentiment had dared rise within him was crushed in an instant.
But then Razeal's stomach lurched. His gaze shifted slightly, and his expression soured. A low groan threatened to escape his lips.
"Just my rotten luck," he cursed internally.
Beside Aeron floated a figure like a moon beside a star.
His stomach twisted. A wave of nausea climbed up his throat as his eyes fell on the woman walking beside Aeron. The sight alone made his chest tighten, a familiar pressure building in his lungs.
She was wrapped in a white robe adorned with golden embroidery, her long hair glowing like molten sunlight. Golden eyes radiated calm, divine serenity. She seemed to exude purity but Razeal could feel it. The overwhelming tidal wave of mana surrounding her like a divine barrier. It wasn't just powerful it was oppressive.
Selene Luminus.
The Saintess of the Church of Light.
What is she doing here? Wasn't she supposed to be in the south.
A fucking butterfly effect this fast?
Why the hell is she here?! Razeal gritted his teeth, keeping every muscle frozen. Even breathing now felt like risking death.
Behind her, a procession of white-robed priests and armored holy knights followed in solemn formation. Their eyes were sharp, hands hovering near blades and spell-scrolls, ever watchful. It was clear one wrong twitch near their Saintess, and they'd launch divine judgment without hesitation.
Nearly half the entire entourage maybe fifty people belonged to her faction alone.
The other half seemed to obey Aeron. And the remaining few? Independent hunters and academy talents who had simply gravitated toward strength and protection in numbers.
Razeal's grip tightened around the bark.
He was surrounded and all it would take was one flicker of awareness, one accidental noise, one poorly timed heartbeat, and the Saintess would zero in on him like a hawk.
Just his shitty luck.
---
Shameless Author here to beg.
Guys please powerstones and golden tickets we aren't even in top ten.