The chosen ones gathered in clusters across the expanse of the coliseum's stone corridors, each preparing themselves for the upcoming trial. The air was charged with excitement, tension, and the faint echo of footsteps and murmurs reverberating off the high walls. Raiden, Kaito, and Zohar stood together, feeling the weight of the trial ahead. Around them, gods like Odin, Thor, Zeus, and Neptune gave words of encouragement, their presence both reassuring and daunting.
Odin placed a hand on Raiden's shoulder. "Your journey has been nothing short of extraordinary. You've each faced hardship and grown stronger. But in the ring today, remember—it's not only strength or speed that will see you through. It's control. You must harness your powers with precision. They are now as much a part of you as the air you breathe. Use them wisely."
Zeus nodded, his gaze steely. "The All Mighty has made it clear. He will select two of you at a time. This isn't a test of brute force but of balance, technique, and adaptability. It's hand-to-hand, but your powers are allowed, so you'll need to adapt your skills to the powers that flow within you. Show no hesitation. The others won't hold back—and neither should you."
Thor chimed in with his usual thunderous encouragement, "Don't fear getting bruised or broken! You might be up against each other, but it's all for strength, strategy, and the bonds you've built. No one's going to die today, not if you stay sharp."
Raiden crossed his arms, looking doubtful. "Sure, we're not gonna kill each other, but who's to say one of these guys won't push it too far? That Connor guy, for one...he looks like he's got a screw loose."
The group turned their attention to Connor Grayson, who stood a few yards away, his eyes locked onto Morrigan as she spoke in a low, focused tone. Connor's intense gaze and sharp, almost animalistic focus lent him an aura that was unsettling, even among the chosen. Morrigan's presence was fierce yet calm, her hand resting on Connor's shoulder, her expression firm as she prepared him for the fight ahead.
Kaito glanced back at Raiden and shrugged, "He does look intense, I'll give you that. But it's against the rules to kill here. And look, we're all here for the same reason—to prepare for what's out there."
Neptune added with a chuckle, "The rules are clear. No one will die today. But keep your guard up. The trial will push you, and you'll be surprised at what you're capable of under pressure."
They each took a deep breath, preparing themselves for the challenge. They could feel the weight of the gods' eyes on them, but it was their own resolve and their friendships that grounded them. The sounds of armor clinking, quiet murmurs, and the resonant hum of energy filled the coliseum halls, building up to the moment when they would finally enter the arena.
Thor gave the boys a sly grin, his eyes glinting with the thrill of combat. "Listen up, lads," he began, clapping his hands together with a booming echo. "Once you step into that arena, you'll be taken down to the gated chambers below. It's right under the crowd's feet, like the belly of the beast. Each chamber is closed off, and you'll only get out when it's your turn to fight. Now, here's the twist—the winner stays in the ring."
Raiden and Kaito exchanged a glance, a mix of excitement and nerves flashing between them.
Thor continued, "After each match, a random gate opens, and a new challenger steps out. So, if you're lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you look at it—you could end up facing one of your friends in there." He chuckled, clapping them on the shoulders. "Think of it as a warm-up before the real battles come. But don't go easy just because it's a familiar face. This trial is about your control, strength, and survival instincts. If you're in there long enough, you'll have to face each other, and I expect to see some true warrior spirit when you do."
Raiden smirked, nudging Zohar. "Guess this means we get to see what all that training's done for us, huh?"
Zohar grinned back, "As long as you're ready to handle my moves."
Kaito rolled his eyes. "Just try not to take it personally when I knock you both down."
Thor gave them all a final slap on the back, each one stumbling slightly under the force. "That's the spirit. Now, stay sharp. There's more at stake here than pride."
As Thor continued his pep talk with Raiden, Zohar, and Kaito, Neptune, Odin, and Zeus stood off to the side, huddled in close conversation. The three gods looked on as the chosen prepared for the impending trials, their expressions thoughtful.
Neptune spoke first, his deep voice carrying a tone of intrigue. "This generation of chosen... they're stronger than any we've seen before. Could it be due to the massive gap between the last great war and now?"
Zeus nodded, considering the idea. "It's a possibility. Four centuries is a long time, and that gap has given us all the chance to regain our power in full. That extra strength... we've been able to pass it along to them. But there's more to it than just our power alone."
Odin stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Indeed. The power each chosen one receives is tailored not just to our strength but to their own unique qualities. Genetics play a part. The right heritage can allow them to handle much greater power. And if, by chance, they happen to be distant descendants of the god who chooses them... well, that opens the door to something far rarer."
Neptune nodded in agreement. "Yes, the potential for them to become demigods. Of course, tracing lineage from the heavens to earth is nearly impossible, so we rarely know if one of these chosen is our own bloodline. It's a roll of the cosmic dice."
Zeus folded his arms, his gaze steady as he looked at the chosen in the arena. "Yet when that rare match occurs, the result is nothing short of extraordinary. It's as if fate herself nudges them toward greatness."
Odin gave a firm nod, eyes filled with a spark of anticipation. "Well, these young warriors may not yet understand it, but the weight of ages and power courses through them. This generation stands to achieve what none before have... if they have the will to endure."
The gods exchanged a solemn look, each aware of the responsibility and the promise within the new chosen. As the boys prepared for their trial, the gods held quiet hope—perhaps, for the first time in centuries, the chosen would rise to surpass even their divine expectations.
Thor turned back to Odin, Zeus, and Neptune, nodding in their direction with a look that said it all: it was time. The gods returned his nod, each casting one last glance at their chosen.
Thor turned to Raiden, Zohar, and Kaito, his expression serious but encouraging. "Alright, boys. This is it. Head down to the chambers and prepare yourselves. Remember, this isn't just about winning. It's about learning control, knowing your strengths, and keeping that edge sharp. You're warriors, so fight like it."
Raiden gave a determined grin, Kaito squared his shoulders, and Zohar clenched his fists, a spark of lightning tracing his knuckles as if in anticipation. With a final nod, they turned toward the entrance to the gated chambers beneath the coliseum, the faint roar of the crowd above growing louder as they made their way down.
The air in the chambers was thick with anticipation, the echoes of past battles felt in the very stone walls. Dim torches flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to dance as if waiting to witness what the new chosen would bring. The boys took their positions, each waiting by a separate gate, uncertain who would be called first—or whom they'd face next. They knew that if they stayed in long enough, they might have to face each other.
Thor's voice echoed down to them, deep and resounding. "Remember—this trial will test everything you are. Stay sharp, stay true, and let your powers show you the path."
With a heavy clang, the gates sealed behind them, enclosing each in their own chamber. The faint sound of the crowd above quieted as the arena prepared for the first battle. The boys took deep breaths, their senses heightened, their muscles tense, ready for the clash.
The crowd erupted as the first two chosen emerged from beneath the coliseum. The young girl chosen by Tyr stepped out first, her pink and purple hair pulled up in a messy bun that matched her fierce and focused expression. Dressed in a sleek athletic tracksuit, she moved with a natural, almost feline grace, her brown-purple eyes scanning the arena with keen intensity. Her aura was confident, yet she seemed completely focused, not letting the roar of the spectators distract her.
Across from her, the gates opened once more, and her opponent emerged—a towering man with sun-bleached blonde hair and a body etched with battle scars. His gaze was sharp, intense, and unyielding, clearly marked by years of discipline and combat. His choice of armor was minimal, likely to allow for maximum speed and flexibility, though his muscles and bearing suggested he had no shortage of strength. As a chosen of Bishamonten, the Japanese god of war and warriors, his presence alone seemed to command respect, radiating an air of quiet but deadly competence.
The two stood opposite one another, sizing each other up in silence as the crowd's anticipation built. Raiden, Zohar, and Kaito watched from their chambers, captivated by the contrast between the two fighters. Raiden leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied their stances.
"She looks light on her feet," Kaito muttered, taking in her poised but ready posture. "Bet she's fast."
Zohar nodded in agreement. "But the guy... look at him. He's built like a wall. That's not going to be easy to get through."
The girl raised her fists, her eyes never leaving her opponent. With a nod from the all mighty in his grand throne, a signal was given, and the battle began.
The blonde warrior moved first, charging forward with powerful strides that seemed to shake the ground beneath him. But the girl was quick, sidestepping his initial assault with a dancer's fluidity, her eyes locked on his every move. She darted around him, her hands glowing faintly as she summoned her own divine energy. Her feet barely touched the ground as she launched herself into a rapid flurry of strikes, targeting his joints and weak points with precision.
The man's movements were slower but controlled, each swing of his fist or dodge showing his seasoned battle instincts. He blocked her strikes with his forearms, the sound echoing as flesh met energy. Then, in a blur, he spun, catching her off guard with a knee aimed at her midsection. She barely managed to twist out of the way, but his follow-up punch grazed her shoulder, sending her stumbling back.
Watching from his chamber, Raiden's hands balled into fists. He felt the raw intensity of the match, every move a lesson, every strike a reminder of the kind of power they would soon face.
Just as the blonde warrior lunged again, the girl grinned and whispered something to herself. Her eyes flashed, her brown-purple gaze deepening, and with a swift, fluid motion, she vaulted over his shoulder, spinning mid-air. She landed with her fists charged, driving a powerful blow straight into his back, forcing him down to one knee.
The crowd went wild, cheering and shouting for both fighters as they continued their relentless exchange, each moment a pulse of tension and power. The boys watched, knowing that soon, they too would be stepping into the arena.
As the towering warrior knelt, the girl seized her chance, her leg snapping into a swift side kick aimed right at his face. But with a quick reflex, he grabbed her shin mid-air, yanking her down to the ground. She barely had a moment to react before his fist came crashing down, landing blow after heavy blow to her face. He then grabbed her by the hair, her once tidy bun unraveling as he dragged her roughly across the sandy ground. In one powerful motion, he slammed her back-first against the stone wall of the arena.
With an unsettling calm, he leaned in close, his voice a chilling murmur. "You know, they wouldn't really care if I killed you right here. It'd just prove my strength, show them what I bring to this war."
Instead of fear, she looked up at him with a slight smile, even chuckling as if to mock him. He scowled, pulling back to lift his boot and aim for a brutal stomp to her head. But in the fraction of a second before his foot came down, she moved—a blur of motion that kicked up a cloud of dust and sand, blinding him momentarily.
Darting out of his line of sight, she reappeared behind him, fists charged with energy as she unleashed a rapid succession of strikes to his throat, chest, and face. The strikes landed with precision and ferocity, each one breaking down his defenses. Staggering, he struggled to regain his balance, only to see her spinning mid-air, her leg whipping around with a final, powerful kick to his knee.
A sickening snap echoed across the coliseum as his knee shattered, forcing him to the ground. The crowd roared, their cheers filling the arena as she stood over him, victorious, breathing heavily but composed.
The All Mighty raises his voice, echoing across the coliseum. "We didn't even get to the weapons! Well done, Zofia!" He claps, a gesture that reverberates with power, and waves to the soldiers to open the next gate.
As it creaks open, Connor steps out, shirtless, his powerful frame emanating a dark, almost tangible aura that hangs around him like a shadow. The crowd murmurs in awe and anticipation, feeling the heavy, dangerous energy radiating from him. With a subtle thumbs-up from the All Mighty, the signal to start is given.
Zofia wastes no time, darting forward with the same lightning speed she used to defeat her last opponent. But Connor stands still, watching her approach with an unyielding gaze. Then, as she comes within reach, he moves—swift as a flash. His fist rockets upward in a brutal uppercut, catching Zofia off-guard and sending her spinning mid-air. Before she can even hit the ground, his other fist slams into her chest, the force of the blow sending her skidding across the sand.
Dust rises as she tumbles, struggling to gather herself after the raw power of his attack. The crowd gasps, seeing Zofia—one of the most promising Chosen—momentarily at a loss against Connor's strength. He remains calm, waiting for her next move, a dark gleam in his eye as he watches her recover with unshaken composure.
Connor strides forward, a dark determination in his eyes. "Don't take this personally," he says in a thick Irish accent, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. "You did great against the last guy."
Before he can finish, Zofia attempts her same swift maneuver, hoping to catch him off guard. But Connor anticipates her move, his hand shooting out to catch her wrist mid-strike. His grip tightens, and with a sudden, brutal twist, he breaks her hand, a sickening crack resonating across the coliseum.
In the split second of pain and shock, she tries to pull back, but Connor closes the distance, his forehead colliding with hers in a vicious headbutt. Zofia's eyes flutter, and she collapses, unconscious, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
The crowd is silent for a moment, absorbing the raw display of strength. Then, cheers and gasps fill the coliseum, as they realize the ferocity Connor has brought to the arena. The All Mighty gives a slight nod, acknowledging both the power of his Chosen and the chilling intensity Connor commands.