Samael's eyes snapped open and he sat up, immediately assessing his surroundings.
Thankfully, he'd made it back to the Steel Gardens—thanks to Aegon. Currently, he lay on a bed placed beside his cultivation platform, right in the middle of the space.
"We truly need to have a talk about those suicidal tendencies of yours, let alone your masochistic side—why the hell would you trigger a…"
Samael tuned out Aegon's nagging as he stood, making sure not to use his hands at all while doing so. Hopping off the bed, he stretched briefly before looking at Aegon.
"You have my wraps?" He had barely spoken the words when a set of dark silver and gold rune-covered bands of thin metal were tossed at him.
Instantly, they wrapped around his hands, from the top of his fingers all the way up to his elbows. They resembled layered bandages, yet were as solid and durable as steel.
Despite their appearance, they remained flexible. As Samael flexed his fingers and closed them into fists, it was as though nothing was there at all.
He nodded in satisfaction.
"You should probably go—you have about…" Aegon checked his wrist, glancing at a nonexistent watch. "About thirty minutes before it begins."
Samael immediately rushed away, catching a pair of robes Aegon tossed at him on his way out.
Aegon looked at his imaginary watch again. "If you count the time to pass through the teleportation tunnel, you actually have about ten minutes!" he shouted with a smile.
"I already registered you as Hovier Lumien. Good luck!"
.
.
.
Every week, the Void Trading Alliance and the Grand Order Council—the largest merchant association in the world and the greatest military force in the world—organized exhibitions and showings.
These showings mainly served as entertainment for the public, but also functioned as networking events where all allied merchant organizations could carry out trades under the Alliance's umbrella. Of course, the Trading Alliance took a large cut via commissions and entry fees.
For the Grand Order Council, however, these exhibitions served as scouting opportunities—ways to identify talent and assimilate it into their ranks.
All in all, it was a culturally embedded event that people eagerly looked forward to and often saved for.
But this week's Exhibition would be… special, to say the least.
——
In the middle of a grand coliseum, an expanse of grass stretched out beneath the open sky. The coliseum's stands were packed with thousands, with more streaming in, eagerly finding their seats.
At the center of the grassy expanse, a man floated calmly in midair. He bore a head of greying black hair and a particularly well-groomed beard.
His eyes were a tame bronze hue, and he wore simple garments—black outer robes layered over dark blue inner robes.
Below him stood hundreds, if not thousands, of youths and middle-aged individuals, each bubbling with anticipation and excitement.
Looking down at them, taking in the raw hope and ambition in their gazes, he couldn't help but smile. He was an Elder of the Void Trading Alliance—a Head Merchant.
Head Merchant Leroy.
But he too had once stood where they did—years ago, a participant in the very same exhibitions. Through decades of effort, he had managed to transfer from the Grand Order Council into the Trading Alliance, and since then, his life had been one of comfort and affluence.
And now, he hoped that some—if even only one—among these fresh faces could walk the same path. To do so, however, they'd have to display the full depth of their potential.
He waited a few more minutes, giving time for the last spectators to settle and for the remaining participants to arrive.
Then, he began scanning the crowd, taking a mental roll call. More than that, he was checking to ensure none of the participants carried anything that could endanger others or disrupt the trials.
The participants below felt a shiver run down their spines. It was as if they were being stripped bare under his gaze. But unable to do anything, they could only grit their teeth and endure.
'Idiots,' Head Merchant Leroy sneered inwardly. He was actually one of the more tame figures compared to the other old monsters of the Alliance. Most would've let their auras leak out, suppressing the youths and imprinting fear upon their minds.
Some would even sweep their senses over every single inch of the participants' bodies in the most invasive, almost perverse, ways—just to shatter any pride they might carry.
Regardless, he sighed and shook his head before beginning.
"I suppose we all know how this shall proceed, yes?" he asked.
All nodded in agreement.
"Great." He turned to the crowd. "Have you all settled? Food in hand, drink in the other?"
The audience erupted in cheers, and to this, he chuckled lightly before waving his hand.
"Well then… let's begin this year's 26th Exhibition. Good luck!"
The grassy field of the coliseum suddenly parted like a gate, and in a blink, all the participants fell into an abyss of darkness—each headed toward their trials.
———
Samael fell from the skies, alone.
Landing on his feet, he immediately began to sink.
Reacting swiftly, he coated his entire body in qi, rendering it non-polar to separate himself from whatever liquid was pulling him in.
Using the surface of the waters as though they were solid ground, he pushed himself upward and regained his footing.
'What a welcoming gift,' he thought with a quiet chuckle, dispelling most of his qi—keeping just enough at his feet to stand atop the water.
Then, he began to observe his surroundings. Well… there wasn't much to observe.
Everywhere he looked, he saw reflections of himself. Up, down, left, right—there was nothing but himself, repeated endlessly with streaks of darkness in between. The scene was deeply disconcerting.
'A maze of mirrors.'
Bending down, he further examined the supposed sea he stood on. As he'd expected, it wasn't water at all.
It was a thick, black goo that, incredibly enough, seemed to naturally absorb all surrounding qi.
More accurately—it sucked the qi out of one's body. All the way up to one's life qi.
'Fascinating.'