Chapter 13: The Trial of the Medasu
Elvas stood on the training ground, his heart heavy and churning. The dirt beneath his boots felt less like solid ground and more like a tripwire, waiting to snap shut around him.
He had joined this rigorous training to prove something—to himself, to Avalon, to everyone who had ever called him worthless.
But now, surrounded by sneering faces and whispered insults, he instantly regretted that decision. This field felt like a trap, populated by everyone who desperately wanted to see him fail.
"Hey, demon boy!"
The voice came sharp and mocking, slicing through the morning air like a thrown blade.
Elvas turned, his stomach sinking. Auran, the werewolf alpha, was walking toward him, his pack trailing behind like obedient shadows. Their eyes gleamed with undisguised hostility, low growls rumbling ominously in their throats.
Auran's voice was low, taut with anger. "What was my girl doing in your room last night?"
Elvas stiffened, meeting Auran's gaze head-on. He refused to look away, even as his pulse quickened dangerously.
"Liora came to thank me," he said, keeping his tone steady and even. "For respecting her friend Kalia. That's all that happened."
Auran grabbed the front of Elvas's shirt, yanking him close until Elvas could smell the faint, metallic scent of wolf blood on his breath.
"You think Liora has time for a nobody like you?" Auran sneered, his grip crushing the fabric. "Stop dreaming, demon. You're trash—act like it."
He shoved Elvas back with enough violent force to send him stumbling. Elvas's hand hit the ground hard, a sharp rock cutting deep into his palm. Pain shot instantly up his arm, and a thin line of blood welled across his skin.
He clenched his jaw, pushing himself upright. Before he could respond, another voice cut through the tension, smooth and smug.
"Finally, someone actually managed to piss off the dog," Marcus drawled.
Elvas turned toward the sound. The vampire prince sauntered over with Mark and Luke, their red eyes gleaming like hot embers.
Auran's glare shifted immediately, his voice a dangerous, coiled growl. "What did you say, bloodsucker?"
Marcus grinned, taking another provocative step closer. "You heard me clearly, dog. I said it's about time someone made you mad enough to fight."
The werewolves behind Auran instantly tensed, their growls deepening into a unified threat. Elvas could feel the storm building between the two powerful predators. He quickly stepped back, his wounded hand stinging, his mind racing. He didn't belong in the middle of this, but here he was—caught between inevitable rivals.
Auran's fist clenched tightly, his muscles coiling like compressed springs. His pack braced themselves for the brawl. Marcus's sharp fangs glinted as he smirked, entirely ready for the challenge.
Before either of them could throw the first punch, a sharp, authoritative voice rang out across the field.
"Enough!"
Every head snapped toward the sound. Miss Elira, the Nephilim instructor, strode onto the training ground, her dark robes swirling around her legs, her silver insignia flashing sharply in the sunlight. Her sheer presence instantly quelled the chaos.
"This ground is for training," she said firmly. "Not fighting like wild animals. If you genuinely want to brawl, report to the war zone."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
Auran's nostrils flared with frustration, but he slowly lowered his fist. His pack reluctantly backed off, though their hostile glares lingered. Marcus laughed under his breath and gave a mocking, exaggerated bow before stepping aside with his vampire crew.
Elira's gaze softened slightly as she approached Elvas. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Elvas wiped the blood off his palm, nodding stiffly. "Yeah. I just need a minute."
She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable but not entirely unkind. "Don't let them get to you," she advised. "You are here for a reason. Now, return to the formation."
He nodded again. Her voice carried a quiet strength that surprisingly steadied him.
As she walked away, Elvas turned back to the line of students forming up. The whispers were immediate and cruel.
"That's the demon kid."
"He really thinks he can fight?"
"He'll be gone after today's mission."
Each word felt like a tiny knife turning in his gut. He clenched his fists tighter. He absolutely couldn't let them see him break now.
Coach Red, a tall, intimidating man with a deep scar running down his face, stepped forward. His voice thundered across the entire field.
"Listen up!" he shouted. "Today marks your first true mission."
A ripple of nervous anticipation spread through the crowd.
"You'll be working in predefined teams," Red continued. "No fighting, and absolutely no betrayal. You will prove to Avalon that you possess the courage to protect it. Two teams—A and B—are already listed."
He held up a clipboard, his tone dropping lower, growing serious.
"Your task is incredibly simple," he announced. "Bring back the head of a beast."
A collective hush fell over the group.
Red's lips twisted into a grim, challenging smile. "It's called the Medasu—kin to the ancient Medusa. One look into its cursed eyes, and you will turn instantly to stone."
A few students gasped aloud. Others muttered in hushed disbelief.
"Whichever team successfully retrieves its head earns the title of Boldness," he said. "This is a trial of courage—and more importantly, survival."
He paused, his voice steady but cold. "If you are not prepared, back out now. There is no shame in acknowledging your limits."
Elvas froze. The name Medasu rang in his mind like an ominous bell. He knew that name from the old legends—stories his mother once whispered when he was small. A creature with a serpent's face, a powerful curse in its blood, and a ravenous hunger for human souls.
His hands trembled slightly. How am I supposed to fight that? he thought desperately.
He only possessed two active powers so far—the forbidden gifts of the System. His Speed ability, and his Devil Wings.
Speed made him quick enough to dodge Marcus's punch that day, fast enough to shatter that bat when he first lost control.
The Wings gave him raw physical strength and the ability to move through the air—but he'd used them only once, and the pain had been unbearable, the force nearly destroying his small room.
He swallowed hard, fighting down the panic. Can I really do this with my current strength?
Red stopped directly in front of him, his sharp eyes narrowing dangerously. "Kid," he said. "Are you ready? Or are you backing out before the mission even starts?"
Elvas opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Marcus's mocking voice cut in sharply.
"Coach, don't waste your time," he said, laughing cruelly. "He has no power. He'll be petrified stone before he even gets close to the Medasu."
Laughter immediately rippled through the gathered students. The sound echoed across the field like a cruel, unifying chorus.
Elvas's face burned with sudden, fierce anger. His fists trembled—not from fear, but from something hotter, something sharper: determination.
He took a decisive step forward, his voice rising clearly above the laughter.
"I can do it," he stated. His voice wasn't loud, but it was absolutely steady, and everyone instantly went silent to hear him. "Power or not, I'm ready."
"I've been training for this," Elvas continued, his eyes fixed on Marcus and Auran. "One beast won't stop me."
Marcus smirked, tilting his head mockingly. "Big words for a demon boy," he said. "Let's see you prove it in the field."
Auran stepped up beside him, his voice a low, hostile growl. "You'll choke out there, and nobody will be around to save you."
Elvas met his glare without flinching. "I don't need saving," he said sharply. "Not from you, and certainly not from anyone else."
He looked around at the entire group, his voice firm and final. "I'll prove it—to all of you."
Coach Red watched him for a long moment, then a faint, challenging smile touched his scarred face. "That's the spirit, kid," he said. "Let's see if you can back up that brave claim."
He turned to face the entire group, his voice booming again across the field.
"Alright. Everyone has decided to stay, then?"
A low murmur of defiant agreement moved through the assembled crowd.
Red's eyes gleamed with something between fierce approval and dire warning. "Good," he said, his tone rising with intensity.
"Now that everyone has decided to stay..."
He paused dramatically, his grin widening, a chilling anticipation in his eyes.
"...then let the game begin."