The journey to the Republic of Karlos had been anything but peaceful.
The wilderness sprawled endlessly, a merciless landscape teeming with dangers. Packs of beasts lurked behind every hill and thicket—a sloth of monstrous bears, each nearly three times the size of an adult man, prowled in search of prey. Saber-toothed cats with curved fangs gleamed beneath the moonlight as they stalked the group from the shadows. And once, they even had to evade a stampeding herd of mammoths that shook the earth with each step.
But they endured—hunting when they could, hiding when they had to. Survival had carved its lessons deep into their bones. The farther they pushed, the closer they came to their destination: the capital city of Ravenshire.
It was Alex who suggested it first, days earlier while they roasted meat over a flickering fire.
"You know," he said, tossing a small stone into the flames, "we could head for Ravenshire. It's part of Karlos—the only place in the world that issues dungeon permits officially."
Peter glanced at him, curious. "You mean like… become licensed hunters?"
Alex nodded. "Exactly. The city's a hub for magician teams. Contractors from all over the world hire people like us. There's work—real work. We could earn Lucious and stop running like vagabonds."
Diana blinked. "Lucious?"
"The paper currency used in all major territories. It's backed by Karlos's Republic. We'll need it if we want gear, potions, or even a place to sleep."
Peter grunted, but his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Makes sense. A stable income… and recognition."
Judas stared into the fire, the crackle and hiss reflecting in his burnt skin. "Then we head there."
---
{KARLOS – A sovereign republic where dungeon regulation is centralized. In its capital, Ravenshire—often called the "City of Hunting Dreams"—a year-round grand fair attracted government contractors, independent factions, and military representatives from across the globe. It was a hunter's paradise… and a beggar's grave.}
Ravenshire wasn't a city. It was a living organism.
Magicians poured in from all corners of the world, each displaying their ranks like feathers on a peacock. Grand halls boomed with recruitment offers. Banners from different nations fluttered over high towers. The elite walked with bodyguards, surrounded by whispering servants and interviewers. Their polished boots never touched dirt.
In contrast, the weaker ones—unranked, underfed, and unproven—huddled in alleys or camped near sewer vents, desperately trying to be noticed.
Judas, Diana, Alex, and Peter weaved through the throng, necks craning at the towering architecture, their worn clothes and battered cloaks drawing disapproving glances from high-ranking hunters.
"Whoa…" Diana whispered, spinning to look at a floating stage where a magician conjured a golden hawk made of flame.
"This place's insane," Judas muttered. "Like a circus for wizards."
They turned a corner—and Judas bumped shoulders with a cloaked old man with stained white bandages on his one arm.
The man didn't flinch.
Instead, he leaned close, his face a maze of wrinkles and hidden eyes, having a white short beard surrounding his dried lips.
"Found you… the Dark Prince," he whispered and laughed faintly, so faint it felt like a joke.
Judas blinked. "Sorry—?"
But when he blinked, the man had vanished.
Only a faint curl of black smoke drifted lazily in the air.
Judas shook his head. "...Weird."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just… thought I saw something."
They moved on.
---
Soon, they arrived at the Evaluation Centre, a grand building styled like a fortress. Carved from obsidian stone with banners flapping atop its towers, the structure seemed to challenge those who dared step inside.
They were greeted by a striking woman—tall, blonde, dressed in a black coat over a white blouse and formal skirt. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she approached with a practiced smile.
"Welcome to the Ravenshire Evaluation Center," she said warmly. "Please follow me."
She led them through echoing corridors to a chamber with a glowing arcane device at its center.
"This is the Aura Meter," she explained. "Place your palm here. It will measure the strength and nature of your aura. Based on your team's average rank, we'll determine your eligibility for contracts."
Judas stepped forward first, pressing his hand on the device.
"B-Rank," it flashed in silver.
Diana followed—"B-Rank."
Peter smirked and stepped up—"A-Rank."
Then Alex approached.
He placed his hand on the device… and nothing happened.
The device blinked. Then beeped. Then… silence.
Peter frowned. "What's wrong?"
The attendant's smile faltered. "He may not have any detectable aura… or the device could be malfunctioning."
"That's not possible," Judas said, stepping closer. "He can use both Earth and Wind."
She ran a diagnostic rune over the machine. "Functioning properly."
Alex scratched the back of his neck and forced a grin. "Guess it just doesn't like me today."
Peter sighed. "Can't we proceed with just the three of us?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. Minimum requirement is four confirmed ranks. But—there is an alternative."
She led them down a side corridor.
The attendant offered a polite smile and motioned for the group to follow her. "There are many magicians present—ranging from D to Divine rank. You're free to challenge any of them to a supervised duel."
She led them down a wide marble corridor that opened into a coliseum-like structure. The vast space hummed with energy, the sharp scent of mana thick in the air. She gestured toward two individuals near the entrance to the arena floor.
The first was a tall woman with green hair, a brown leather overcoat draped over her shoulders. A sleek black mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving only sharp green eyes exposed. Beside her stood a burly, brown-skinned man with mutton-chop sideburns and a single braided lock tied behind his head. His arms were crossed, and his posture was that of a seasoned warrior who had seen countless battles.
The Justice Seekers approached and bowed respectfully.
"The rules are simple," the attendant continued, nodding toward the two supervisors. "No killing. No intentional brutality. Specific instructions will be provided by the overseers before each match."
With that, she offered one final smile and departed, her footsteps echoing as she disappeared into the hallway.
"I'm Wolfgang," said the burly man, his deep voice booming through the arena. He then gestured to his masked companion. "And this is Maddie. We'll be overseeing your evaluations. Follow us."
They were escorted through the roaring stands filled with spectators—fellow magicians, nobles, and evaluators from the capital—all eager to witness new talent. The arena floor was a hardened stone platform surrounded by tall boundary runes pulsing in soft blue light.
Two magicians were already mid-battle: one wielding elegant streams of water, the other lashing out with blazing torrents of flame. The collision of elements sent violent gusts through the air, and steam blanketed parts of the battlefield.
The water magician outmaneuvered the flame user, summoning a spiraling vortex that extinguished the enemy's fire and knocked him flat onto his back.
"Victory goes to Davis, the Water Mage!" Maddie declared, her voice clear and authoritative as she raised a gloved hand.
The crowd clapped, though some were clearly waiting for something more dramatic.
"Who dares to challenge this C-Rank magician next?" Maddie asked, scanning the observing group.
Judas stepped forward, eyes locked onto the arena. "Can I go, Master?"
Peter nodded once, "yeah! You should try your training", his expression unreadable.
Judas drew his claymore in one fluid motion. "I'm the next challenger!" he called out, his voice firm and confident.
The crowd made way, a murmur rippling through the stands as the young boy marched forward. His black boots clacked against the stone with every step. Maddie motioned him into place opposite the previous victor.
She raised her hand. "Combatants ready? In 3... 2... 1... Start!"
The water mage didn't hesitate, hurling a focused cannon of pressurized water straight at Judas.
But Judas was already moving—sidestepping with precise footwork, his form clean and sharp. His claymore gleamed under the sunlight as he swung it horizontally, unleashing a vibrant, crimson aura slash.
The water mage ducked just in time—but when he looked up, his eyes met Judas's glowing red gaze.
Judas's aura surged.
A heavy, suffocating pressure descended over the arena. The spectators leaned forward in their seats. The water mage's wand trembled in his grasp, and he staggered back, face drained of color.
"I—I forfeit!" he stammered, dropping his wand and raising both hands.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Judas lowered his blade and relaxed his aura. Maddie stepped forward, raising her hand once more.
"Victory goes to Judas—the Spatial Mage."
The crowd buzzed with curiosity and awe.
"Anyone else willing to face this boy?" Maddie asked with a half-smile.
Before anyone could answer, a powerful presence surged through the area. A muscular, red-haired man shoved through the spectators, a savage grin on his face. He wore nothing but beast fur over his thighs and tiger-shaped gauntlets that shimmered with a faint golden hue.
His body radiated heat. Magic practically oozed from his skin.
"I'm Max Gorod," he said proudly, rolling his shoulders. "High B-Rank. I use Earth and Flame. But I don't fight nameless kids."
He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing like snapping branches.
Judas tilted his head, unfazed. "Judas. Spatial magic." He twirled his claymore once and pointed it at Max. "Now that we're on a first-name basis... come at me."
Max chuckled. "Alright then, Judas!"
Wolfgang stepped between them, his face serious. "No fatalities. Both fighters ready?"
They nodded.
"In 3... 2... 1... Begin!"
Both auras exploded.
Max's was a demonic, emerald in colour, crackling like thunder, while Judas's shimmered like glass bending light—unstable, warping the space around him. The very ground beneath them cracked and buckled under the collision of pressure.
Judas vanished.
Teleportation.
In a blink, he reappeared mid-air, firing cross-shaped aura slashes at Max.
Max slammed both fists into the ground, raising a thick mud wall—but the slashes tore through it like paper.
"Too slow," Judas taunted.
He appeared behind Max, driving a knee into his opponent's back and smashing his head into the crumbling mud wall. But Max twisted out, unfazed, and grinned.
"You've got fire in you, kid."
He roared like a wild beast, flames spiraling from his gauntlets as he charged with terrifying speed.
Judas ducked under the first punch, barely avoiding a burning uppercut. The second punch landed square across his jaw, flames searing across his face and forcing him back.
Max pressed the advantage—rapid punches, each laced with bursts of fire. Judas tried to dodge, but Max's relentless onslaught burned through his defense. His coat was scorched. His skin blistered.
A flaming punch slammed into Judas's stomach, sending him flying into the arena wall. Dust erupted as he crashed and crumpled to his knees, coughing blood.
"Give up, kid. I don't want to break you more than I already have," Max said, his voice genuine despite the battle-rage in his eyes.
Judas grinned through the pain, blood trailing from his lip. "Kindness doesn't suit a beast like you."
He stood shakily, raising his hand. Magic pulsed. The air twisted unnaturally.
A dome-shaped spatial field began forming around them—small, shimmering, and tightening by the second. Max found himself trapped, pounding against the walls. No escape.
"Not bad," Max growled, trying to break the spatial cage. His limbs contorted slightly from the pressure.
Judas's body trembled violently as he pushed more energy into the spell. Veins bulged. Blood spilled from his mouth. His vision blurred.
Then, the sphere shattered—the rebound knocked both combatants off their feet.
Max crashed into the ground, groaning in pain. Judas fell to one knee, gasping for breath. Neither stood.
Wolfgang stepped in. "This match... is a draw!"
Max slammed the ground, fists pounding into the stone. "Damn it!!" he roared, frustration dripping from every word.
Then they both collapsed, unconscious on the battleground.
Medical staff rushed in, lifting both fighters onto stretchers and carrying them toward the healing chambers.
The crowd erupted in applause—not just for the battle, but for the tension, the spectacle and finally a battle which they could have enjoyed.
Moments later, Maddie stepped up again. "Next match: Peter versus C-Rank flame specialist—Amelia Ryze."
A woman with slick blue hair and flaming gauntlets stepped into the ring, cracking her neck with confidence. She conjured blue flames around her fists and launched herself at Peter without hesitation.
Peter sidestepped each strike with surgical precision, eyes calm and calculating. His arrows weren't just weapons—they were traps, snares, pressure points, nullifying the fire attacks of Amelia.
With a short burst of speed, Peter got closer to her, Amelia shocked with his speed, the very next moment...Peter ducked low, swept her legs on amelia's legs, she was in mid-air when, Peter finished with a solid kick to her abdomen, launching her clear out of the ring into the spectators.
"Amelia's out," Wolfgang confirmed. "Peter wins, next opponent who want to challange him, please step forward."
Then, to everyone's surprise, a strong voice spoke up.
"I want to go next."
Heads turned. It was Alex.
Diana's eyes widened. "Alex?! Why do you want to fight Big Brother?"
Alex's face was unreadable—quiet, yet determined. "Because I need to know how strong I really am."
He stepped into the arena with silent confidence. Peter looked at him, and for a brief moment, they locked eyes with a smirk—teammates, now rivals.
Wolfgang looked between them, then raised his hand.
"Begin!".
---{end of chapter 9}