The anticipation in the Philippine Hunter University Arena crackled like a live wire. Thousands of students filled the bleachers, eyes glued to the floating holographic display suspended above the ring.
Today marked the mid-semester *Combat Trial*—a high-stakes evaluation that tested more than strength. Compatibility. Creativity. Instinct. Control.
But today, it was Grim's trial. His moment.
A low murmur rippled through the stands as students whispered excitedly.
"Last match," boomed Professor Mika, her voice magnified through mana amplification. "Grim Arclight and Sylas Orven—versus the academy's A-rank construct: the **Drakehound**!"
Cheers erupted, yet beneath the surface, more whispers followed.
"The Minokawa guy and the Beast Mark kid? What a combo."
"Do they even *talk* to each other?"
Grim stood silently on the left platform, hood down, hands in his pockets. His eyes were locked on the sealed chamber gates. The air felt thick with the weight of the moment, like the entire world held its breath for what was to come. His mind hummed with the power inside him, the uneasy, shifting currents of his summons that never seemed to stop.
Across from him, Sylas stood, arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the arena like a hunter preparing for a lethal strike.
No words had passed between them since their conversation three nights ago—the one where Sylas had called Grim a walking calamity. No friendship had bloomed. No trust had been forged.
But they would fight together, because, in this world, that was what mattered. Their survival.
Above them, the observation box buzzed, alive with the quiet murmurs of the faculty. Dean Rizalde leaned forward, sword resting beside his seat. His aura was calm, yet his sharp eyes never left Grim and Sylas. He wasn't just watching—they were the focus of something far greater. A moment where everything could change.
Elyse sat beside him, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Grim. Despite the noise around her, her mind was elsewhere, a place where the burden of her thoughts weighed heavily. Beside her, Vice President Kyle tapped a stylus against his chin, his eyes flicking between the monitor feeds, his posture uncharacteristically tense.
"He's... changing," Elyse murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Martha, a professor with keen insight into mana anomalies, glanced up from her scanner, her expression grave. "His profile is fluctuating again. It's not just overlapping energies—this is... colliding."
"Release the construct," Dean Rizalde ordered, his voice quiet but firm.
With a massive clang, the reinforced gates of the arena opened.
Out came the beast.
A towering monstrosity—lion-bodied, dragon-winged, and wolf-headed. Its crimson eyes glowed with cursed mana, and flames licked its fangs. Its presence alone made the ground tremble, the air thick with its malevolent aura. The **Drakehound**.
A wave of unease washed through the crowd as the creature let out a deafening roar, but the arena hushed in anticipation.
Then, with lightning speed, the Drakehound charged.
---
The beast moved like a missile, its claws outstretched and its teeth bared. Grim barely had time to shift his weight before Sylas slammed a palm into the ground with a force that sent shockwaves through the arena.
"Mark of the Ironhide Boar," Sylas grunted.
Runes flared across his body, glowing with a fierce, orange light. A chitin-like armor enveloped him, hardening in an instant. He met the Drakehound's claws head-on—and didn't budge. The impact cracked the stone beneath them with the force of a small earthquake, sending sparks scattering into the air.
"I'll tank. You bind it," Sylas said tersely, his voice edged with a confidence born of years of battle.
Grim nodded in acknowledgment, his expression focused. Glyphs spun up his arm like swirling constellations, runic symbols glowing faintly as he extended his palm toward the creature. He murmured a low incantation beneath his breath, his power surging within him.
A shadowy phantom materialized at his command, its form bound in chains of dark energy. It shot forward like an arrow, wrapping its tendrils around the Drakehound's hindlegs, dragging the beast to the ground with an unnatural force.
The Drakehound staggered, its claws scraping against the stone as it tried to regain its footing.
Sylas struck again.
"Mark of the Storm Elk," he said, his voice a sharp crack in the air.
In an instant, his body blurred. The runes on his chest glowed brighter, and his speed tripled. He darted around the Drakehound's side, a streak of motion, and delivered a devastating kick to the beast's ribs. The creature recoiled, stunned by the blow.
The arena erupted into cheers.
Inside the observation box, Zeke, a veteran professor, whistled appreciatively. "No rehearsal, and they're already synchronized."
Kyle's eyes narrowed as he watched the two in action. "They're not just syncing... Grim is reading Sylas's timing perfectly. It's like he's seen it before."
Elyse didn't answer immediately. Her gaze remained on Grim, her expression unreadable. She felt it again—the same pressure, the same sense that something was *wrong*. Like two worlds were trying to overlap inside him.
---
The Drakehound wasn't finished yet.
The creature twisted in the air, its wings spreading wide. With a guttural roar, it exhaled a cone of fire, its maw unleashing a torrent of flame aimed directly at Grim.
For a moment, it seemed like he was frozen, unblinking, unflinching.
And then, with a whisper, he raised both hands.
"Minokawa," Grim muttered under his breath. "Just a sliver."
The arena gasped as a shadowy form streaked from Grim's shoulder, streaking toward the sky. The **miniature Minokawa** descended, its body a blur of feathers and light, barely the size of a raven. It perched on Grim's shoulder, its presence a subtle but powerful pulse in the air.
The Drakehound hesitated, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
Before it could react, the mini-Minokawa unleashed a blinding beam of light from its beak, striking the Drakehound square in the eye. The beast howled in pain, its body writhing from the sudden assault.
Sylas grinned, his eyes flashing with excitement.
"Mark of the Sky Panther!" he called out.
His body blurred again, and he dropped from the sky like a hawk on its prey. His fists struck the Drakehound's skull with a force that sent shockwaves through the air. The beast staggered, dazed.
Grim raised his hand, his will focused. Chains of dark energy burst from the ground, encircling the beast and binding it tightly, pinning its limbs to the arena floor.
The Drakehound let out one last, futile growl before it collapsed, immobilized.
Silence fell over the arena, broken only by the steady, heavy breaths of the two combatants.
Then—thunderous applause.
---
Even the senior professors stood, their faces filled with admiration. Zeke clapped with a broad grin, while Elyse exhaled softly, her eyes still on Grim. She had witnessed his power before, but there was something different about today. The bond he shared with the Minokawa—something deeper, more profound—was evident.
Grim gave a nod, dismissing the Minokawa with a simple gesture. The spirit chirped once before vanishing in a pulse of golden feathers, its form dissipating into the air like a dream fading at dawn.
Sylas glanced at Grim, his expression unreadable. "We're gonna have a lot of eyes on us now."
Grim's lips twitched into the barest of smiles. "They already were."
Above them, something invisible flickered.
A small **recording drone**, cloaked in layered illusion, hovered silently above the arena. It had captured everything—especially the Minokawa's appearance.
But just before it transmitted, a hand reached through the veil. Cloaked in shimmering runes, it snatched the drone and vanished into the shadows, leaving no trace of its presence.
---
Later that night, the council room was filled with tension.
Dean Rizalde stood before a central mana projector, his hands clasped behind his back. Around him were Elyse, Zeke, Martha, Kyle—and Professor Karina, who had just delivered a disturbing report.
"Three weeks of anomaly scans," Karina said grimly, her voice tight. "Confirmed: someone's been leaking dungeon coordinates and gate schedules."
She tapped the crystal, and a projection flared to life—showing a cloaked figure removing a Hunter Association seal near a gate in Cebu.
"That ambush last week?" Karina said, her voice low. "Not random. The enemy was *waiting*."
Martha slammed her tablet shut. "So we've got a mole."
"Worse," Elyse whispered, her expression hardening. "Someone on the inside. Someone who knows the schedule before even we do."
Zeke glanced at Kyle, his eyes searching. "Think it's someone from the faculty?"
Kyle didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked to the drone's intercepted footage—now corrupted—and his brow furrowed.
"Maybe
not just faculty," he muttered.
Dean Rizalde's voice cut through the growing tension. "No matter who it is, we stop them before the Crimson Crescent moves again."
---
The weight of that unspoken truth hung heavily in the air.
Tonight, the hunt was only just beginning.