The bloodstained arena still echoed with the cries of pain and triumph from the beast trials, but now a new tension replaced the earlier fear. Not of death—but of rejection.
The crowd of surviving disciples, now numbering just over a thousand, stood in tight groups—many bruised, others limping, but all with blazing eyes. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Who is Kent, truly?"
"Did you see the way he fought the Domu? Without spells… just a mace! Not even a single chant!"
"He must be a body mage… or someone who received ancient inheritance. He has a flying throne! Who gets that in this age?"
"I heard one of the elders whispered the term 'Heavenly Ruler of Eternity' after his test. That's not a title you give to a mortal."
"He's not from a lower realm, that's for sure..."
As the murmurs grew into theories and suspicions, a powerful gust swept the arena.
