Eiden had felt danger many times in his life—but standing alone in the center of the circular chamber, surrounded by ten hostile students, he understood there were different flavors of danger.
This one tasted like blood.
The three groups spilled into the room from separate entrances—each carrying the colors of their respective villain lineages. Their uniforms were modified, marked, or torn in ways that told him one thing:
They were used to fighting.
Used to hunting.
Used to winning.
Eiden tightened his grip on his dagger.
His hand trembled—only slightly—but he hid it by lowering his stance.
The Labyrinth's torchlight flickered like a heartbeat.
He counted them quickly.
Four students from the Crimson Scythes.
Three from the Silent Maw.
Three from the Serpentgrave line.
All notorious villain families.
And all staring at him as if he was prey they had already claimed.
A tall boy with piercings stepped forward from the Silent Maw, smirking lazily.
"Eiden Vale," he drawled, cracking his knuckles. "Heard you took down a Bone Warden alone."
Eiden didn't respond.
Another student—a girl with neon tattoos glowing under her skin—licked her teeth.
"Must've been luck. He looks like he's about to collapse."
A third boy scoffed. "Doesn't matter. In the Trials, weaklings die early. Saves us trouble later."
Eiden's jaw tensed.
Focus. Breathe. Don't panic.
He scanned the formation.
The Crimson Scythes were coordinated, forming a triangle to cut off his retreat.
The Serpentgrave trio spread to his right, circling like wolves.
The Silent Maw closed the left side with a slow, deliberate approach.
They weren't here to test him.
They were here to eliminate competition.
One of the Serpentgrave boys—thin, snake-like, eyes glowing yellow—hissed:
"Don't make this hard, Vale. Kneel, and maybe we'll make it quick."
Eiden smirked.
"Kneeling isn't really my style."
A few students snarled.
One laughed sharply.
The tall boy rolled his shoulders. "He's got a mouth. Shame he won't have it long."
The Trial Core floating above the platform pulsed once, and the Chamber's walls sealed completely, roots of black thorn twisting into place like iron bars.
No escape now.
No time to stall.
The Core flashed:
"COMBAT PERMISSION: GRANTED."
Silence followed.
A breath held by the Labyrinth itself.
Then—
"BEGIN."
The students moved as one.
The first attacker came from the right—a Serpentgrave boy launching forward with chain-blades swirling around him like metallic vipers.
Eiden jerked back just in time as the blade snapped at his throat.
The chain hissed past, striking sparks from stone.
Two Crimson Scythe girls rushed him next, one aiming high, one aiming low—coordinated, lethal, trained.
Eiden ducked, twisted, rolled—
—but his ribs screamed from the earlier hit.
Pain flared white-hot.
He barely blocked a kick that would've cracked his jaw.
His arm went numb from the force.
Too many. Too fast. I won't last long like this.
He caught a glimpse of a Silent Maw boy forming a sphere of dark mist in his palm—poison magic. Another was preparing a whip of shadow.
He needed terrain.
Space.
A way to break their formation.
An idea sparked.
Eiden darted backward toward a pillar—but instead of using it for cover, he sprinted up it, feet finding purchase against the rough stone as he ran vertically.
The attackers below shouted.
"The hell—?!"
"He's climbing?!"
At the top, Eiden pushed off, flipping midair, landing behind the Serpentgrave trio.
They spun too slow.
His dagger slashed the back of one's knee—
not deep enough to maim, but enough to break his balance.
The boy collapsed with a cry.
The others whipped around.
Eiden was already moving.
A Crimson Scythe girl swung her scythe dangerously close—Eiden blocked, but the force rattled his bones.
"You little—!"
Eiden grabbed her wrist, twisted, and slammed his knee into her stomach.
Air burst from her lungs as she crumpled.
Two down.
Eight left.
But his breathing was growing uneven.
The Silent Maw boy with poison magic snarled.
"Enough playing. Kill him."
Dark mist formed into sharp needles and launched toward Eiden.
He dove behind a pillar.
The needles struck stone and fizzled with a hiss that melted the surface.
One hit from that and I'm done.
Before he could catch his breath, another student charged—this one wielding twin daggers coated with green venom.
"You're not leaving this chamber alive, Vale!"
Eiden met him halfway, parrying dagger against dagger.
Sparks flew.
The boy was strong—stronger than Eiden—but reckless.
Eiden pivoted, letting the boy's momentum carry him forward, then slammed the hilt of his dagger into the back of his head.
The boy dropped like a sack of stones.
Seven left.
But Eiden was slowing.
His ribs ached.
His right arm throbbed.
Blood trickled from a cut on his temple.
And worse—
The others were starting to realize he was running out of stamina.
A Crimson Scythe girl smirked.
"Look at him. He's swaying."
A Serpentgrave boy cracked his neck.
"Time to finish this."
They advanced again—
but this time, more cautious, spreading out, moving like predators closing in on a wounded beast.
Eiden forced his breath steady.
He scanned again.
Positions.
Weapons.
Weaknesses.
The Silent Maw's poison mage stood further back—protected.
Two Crimson Scythes flanked the left.
Two Serpentgraves the right.
One Silent Maw brawler in the center.
They were tightening the circle.
No escape forward.
No escape back.
Eiden exhaled.
Just once.
Slowly.
Master Kael's voice echoed in his mind:
"When you're outnumbered… you don't fight the group."
Eiden raised his dagger.
"You break the leader."
His eyes locked onto the Silent Maw poison mage.
The one giving subtle signals.
The one controlling formation.
The one confident they had already won.
Eiden moved.
He sprinted toward the mage with every ounce of strength he had left.
The chamber erupted into chaos.
"STOP HIM!"
"BLOCK HIM!"
"CUT HIM DOWN!"
The brawler lunged.
Eiden slid under the punch.
A scythe whistled past inches from his face.
Chain blades snapped at his legs.
Eiden pushed harder.
The mage's eyes widened as Eiden closed the distance.
"You—stay BACK!"
He hurled a wave of poison mist.
Eiden dove through it—
closing his eyes, holding his breath, trusting pure instinct.
He came out the other side coughing—skin burning slightly where the mist grazed him—but still moving.
The mage tried to form another spell—
Eiden grabbed his wrist.
The boy froze.
Eiden whispered:
"Tag."
Then he slammed his forehead into the mage's nose.
A sickening crack echoed.
The mage collapsed.
And everything changed.
The formation shattered.
The other students faltered—hesitating.
And at that moment—
The Trial Core above pulsed violently.
"THREAT LEVEL SHIFTING."
"ADJUSTING LABYRINTH PARAMETERS."
Eiden frowned.
"What—?"
The floor trembled.
Cracks snaked across the chamber—
glowing with dark red light.
The students backed away in panic.
"What's happening?!"
"Is the room collapsing?!"
"No—this is something ELSE!"
The Trial Core flashed again.
"NEW ENTITY DETECTED."
Silence.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
Then—
"PREDATOR CLASS: UNCHAINED BEAST."
Eiden's blood ran cold.
The walls ruptured.
The torches blew out.
Something massive crawled out of the darkness behind the pillars—
Breathing.
Growling.
Hungry.
Every student froze.
Even the most ruthless among them swallowed hard.
Eiden slowly turned.
In the darkness…
two enormous yellow eyes snapped open.
---
The chamber fell into an eerie stillness, broken only by the deep, guttural growl of the Unchained Beast. Its massive frame loomed from the shadows, muscles rippling under dark, scarred skin, each movement radiating raw, predatory power.
Eiden's pulse raced. He had faced death before—but this… this was on another level entirely. The Labyrinth's trials had never been meant to test mere skill. This was survival against a force that seemed almost alive with hatred.
The first student to move—a Crimson Scythe boy—tried to dash to the opposite pillar. The beast reacted instantly, claws slicing the air with terrifying speed. The boy's body flew through the air, striking the stone with a sickening crack. Silence followed.
"Shit…" Eiden muttered, feeling the weight of reality pressing down on him. This was no longer about winning the trial. This was about staying alive.
The remaining students scattered, desperately trying to put distance between themselves and the beast. Its yellow eyes tracked each movement, calculating, hunting, and preparing to strike with lethal precision.
Eiden pressed himself against a broken pillar, breathing ragged, ribs burning from previous hits. Every instinct screamed: move, dodge, survive.
He knew he couldn't fight the beast head-on. Not yet. Not without terrain advantage.
His eyes darted around the chamber—the roots of black thorn lining the walls, the shattered pillars, the floating Trial Core above. Energy pulsed from the Core, faintly resonating with the thorns.
Eiden's mind clicked. If he could manipulate the Labyrinth… maybe he could restrain the beast.
He inched toward the largest root cluster, keeping low, every muscle coiled like a spring. The beast's head swiveled, nostrils flaring. Its growl deepened, resonating in the chamber like the tolling of a death bell.
Suddenly, it lunged.
Eiden rolled just in time as massive claws slammed into the floor, shattering stone and sending shards flying. Pain shot through his side as dust and debris stung his skin.
Using the chaos, Eiden darted onto the thickest root, gripping it tightly. He sprinted along the twisted surface, agile and precise, like a shadow climbing the night.
The beast swiped at him, missing by inches. Each swing sent vibrations through the stone. Eiden's teeth clenched as his muscles screamed. He had mere seconds to act.
He reached the Trial Core, dagger in hand. With a surge of desperation, he stabbed at the core's base—not to destroy it, but to force an emergency response.
The Core pulsed violently, red glyphs illuminating the chamber.
"ADJUSTING ENVIRONMENT PARAMETERS…" it intoned.
The roots shifted. Thorned vines whipped upward, almost alive. The beast hesitated, growling in frustration as the ground itself began to move against it.
Eiden used the moment, rolling across the floor, kicking debris toward the beast. It thrashed, claws missing him narrowly, eyes burning with fury.
The Labyrinth itself seemed to awaken. Roots snaked across the chamber, pillars shook, and the air pulsed with raw energy.
Eiden drew a deep, ragged breath. Pain lanced through his ribs and arms. He could barely stand. But the beast's attention was fixed on him.
He baited it—step to the right, then left. Each movement deliberate. Each glance calculated.
The beast lunged again, faster than before. Eiden leapt onto a fallen slab, flipping over its edge to strike at its flank with his dagger. Sparks flew as his blade scraped against near-impenetrable hide. The beast roared, thrashing violently, destroying debris as it swung.
Eiden pressed on, leading it toward the densest cluster of roots. This was the gamble. The only chance.
With a final sprint, he stabbed the base of the root cluster. The Core flared. Energy surged. Roots responded instantly, whipping upward like a cage closing.
The beast, caught mid-lunge, crashed into the growing root-thorn prison. It roared, furious, thrashing violently. Pillars collapsed. Dust and debris filled the chamber. Blood from the previous fights coated the floor.
Eiden pressed himself against a safe pillar, body trembling violently, every breath a struggle. He had not killed the beast—but he had contained it, temporarily.
The Core's voice rang out, crisp and mechanical:
"CONTAINMENT ACHIEVED. SURVIVAL PROTOCOL: ENGAGED."
The remaining students, terrified and bloodied, slowly began to move. Eiden didn't look at them. Not yet. Not while the Unchained Beast's glowing eyes still pierced through the thorned cage.
This was only the beginning.
The predator was unchained—but for now, it was cornered.
And Eiden Vale had survived.
---
The chamber was a war zone. Dust hung thick in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of blood and scorched stone. Broken pillars lay scattered like fallen giants, and the roots of black thorn had caged the Unchained Beast—for now—but it thrashed violently, shaking the ground and snapping stone beneath its massive claws.
Eiden pressed his back against a cracked pillar, bleeding from multiple cuts, ribs screaming with each breath. His dagger, slick with crimson, was barely enough to keep him alive. Every second in this chamber felt like a minute, and every minute could be his last.
The remaining students—four bruised, battered, terrified—huddled together, exchanging glances of panic and calculation. Survival instinct warred with pride, and for now, instinct was winning.
Eiden's eyes darted across the chamber. The thorn cage held the beast temporarily, but its growls rattled the air, reverberating through stone and bone alike. He knew he had bought only moments.
"We can't stay here," Eiden rasped, voice hoarse. "We have to move it, contain it, or we all die."
One Serpentgrave boy swallowed hard. "And how exactly do you propose we do that?"
Eiden didn't answer. He couldn't afford words—only action. He drew a deep breath, scanning the thorn roots and shattered pillars for a weak point. The Core above pulsed in sync with the roots, and he realized: the Labyrinth itself responded to intent, to desperation. He had one shot.
"On my mark," he muttered, dagger in hand, muscles coiled like springs. "We bait it toward the corner. Everyone, stay tight but don't block each other."
The students hesitated—but the growl of the beast, low and vibrating the floor, forced their compliance. Every second of hesitation was a gamble with death.
Eiden darted forward, agile as a shadow, and taunted the beast with calculated movements. Step left, step right, feint forward. The Unchained Beast followed, massive claws tearing stone and debris as it lunged.
He leapt onto a fallen pillar, flipping over its edge and jabbing at the beast's flank with his dagger. Sparks flew against the near-impenetrable hide. The creature roared, thrashing violently, and the chamber shook with every swing.
A Crimson Scythe girl hurled herself forward, swinging her scythe against the beast's side. The blade bounced harmlessly, but her sacrifice drew the monster's attention long enough for Eiden to maneuver.
A Serpentgrave boy shouted, throwing enchanted shards of stone imbued with fire. They struck the beast, leaving superficial burns but enough to cause irritation, forcing it to pause mid-lunge.
Eiden pressed the advantage. Every movement was calculated, every dodge precise. Sweat and blood blurred his vision, but his mind remained razor-sharp. This was survival, not heroism.
Finally, he reached the densest cluster of roots—the only terrain that could contain the beast. With a desperate surge, he stabbed the base of the root cluster. The Core flared violently. Energy pulsed, and roots whipped upward like living spears, wrapping the beast in a cage of thorns.
The Unchained Beast crashed into the thorn prison, thrashing with inhuman strength. Pillars splintered, dust filled the chamber, and blood from the previous skirmishes coated the floor.
Eiden pressed himself against a safe pillar, trembling violently. Every breath was agony, every heartbeat a reminder of mortality. He had not killed the beast—but he had survived, and for now, containment held.
The Core's mechanical voice rang out, echoing through the chamber:
"CONTAINMENT ACHIEVED. SURVIVAL PROTOCOL: ENGAGED."
The students, terrified and bloodied, slowly began to regroup. They glanced at Eiden, some in awe, some in fear. None spoke. Words were meaningless here.
Eiden's eyes remained locked on the beast, glowing through the thorn cage. It was cornered—but not defeated. Its hunger, its rage, its unbroken will radiated from within.
And somewhere deep in his chest, Eiden felt a spark of something fierce, undeniable: he would not die in this chamber. Not yet.
The Labyrinth trembled again, and a new, unspoken challenge lingered in the air.
This was only the beginning.
---
The chamber quaked like a living thing. Dust and splintered stone swirled through the air, mingling with the metallic stench of blood. The thorned cage shuddered violently under the Unchained Beast's relentless assault, each swing of its claws sending shockwaves through the floor.
Eiden pressed himself against a jagged pillar, ribs burning, arm throbbing with a dull, pulsing pain. He had survived countless encounters—but nothing like this. The Labyrinth wasn't just a test of skill; it was a crucible, forging survival out of desperation.
The remaining students—three, now only three—stared at the beast, terror frozen on their faces. Their weapons, once gleaming with lethal intent, now trembled in their hands. Instinct screamed: run, hide, survive. Pride be damned.
Eiden clenched his teeth, vision blurred by sweat and blood. Every beat of his heart was a countdown. Every inhale was fire in his lungs.
He had one plan. One chance.
The beast roared, a sound that shook pillars and scattered shards of stone like leaves in a storm. Its eyes, yellow and burning, locked onto him. Its teeth gleamed like daggers, hunger radiating from its massive frame.
Eiden darted forward, baiting it. Step left, then right. Duck. Roll. A swipe narrowly missed his shoulder, tearing stone and scattering shards into his hair. Pain shot through him, but he kept moving. Focus. Survival first.
"Over here!" he shouted to the remaining students. His voice was hoarse, ragged, but commanding. "Distract it. Keep it occupied!"
One girl, trembling but resolute, hurled a fire-imbued scythe. The weapon clanged uselessly against the beast's thick hide, but it roared and shifted its massive frame toward her.
Eiden seized the moment. Using his agility, he sprinted toward a collapsed pillar near the thorned cage. He leapt, rolling over its edge, dagger in hand. Sparks flew as his blade scraped against the beast's flank. It bellowed, swiping violently, tearing stone and air alike.
The ground cracked under its weight. A pillar splintered, falling toward Eiden—but he twisted midair, landing on a shard of debris. Blood from old wounds mingled with sweat, stinging his eyes, but he pressed on.
He had learned the Labyrinth's rhythm. The Core responded to intent, to desperation. He focused every ounce of will, every instinct honed through pain and survival.
"Contain it. Force it. Survive!" he murmured under his breath.
The beast lunged again, faster, more furious. Eiden rolled to the side, stabbing at the roots of the thorned cage with a calculated strike. The Core pulsed violently, and the roots snapped tighter, embedding into the beast's shoulders, slowing it—just enough.
"Now!" he shouted.
The remaining students, rallying under sheer terror and instinct, hurled every attack they could muster: daggers, scythes, shards imbued with magic. Sparks, fire, and stone collided with clawed flesh. The beast roared, thrashing violently, but the combined effort, guided by Eiden's calculated direction, forced it into a corner.
Eiden's vision blurred. Pain lanced through his ribs and arms. Blood coated his hands. But his eyes never left the beast's. Its hunger burned like fire—but so did his resolve.
With a final, desperate maneuver, he stabbed at a weak point in the thorned cage's base, redirecting energy from the Core. The roots snapped tighter, embedding hooks into the stone floor and driving the beast into a near-perfect containment.
It roared—louder, deeper, full of rage and frustration—but it could move only in place. Its massive frame heaved violently, shaking the chamber with each thrash.
Eiden collapsed against a pillar, muscles trembling, breath ragged. He had not defeated the Unchained Beast. He had survived it. Contained it, yes—but its hunger, its fury, and its unbroken will still burned bright.
The Core intoned mechanically:
"CONTAINMENT SECURED. SURVIVAL PROTOCOL: SUCCESSFUL."
The remaining students fell silent, some vomiting, others staring in awe. Eiden didn't look at them. His gaze stayed locked on the creature, glowing yellow eyes piercing through the thorned cage.
Somewhere deep in his chest, Eiden felt it: the fire of survival, sharper than any blade, more unyielding than any wall. The Labyrinth had tested him—and he had endured.
But the Unchained Beast was only one trial. Others awaited. And Eiden Vale, bleeding, battered, yet unbroken, knew one thing with certainty:
He would survive. And when the Labyrinth tested him again, he would be ready.
Because predators don't wait. They adapt. They endure. They fight.
And Eiden Vale… was a predator too.
---