The darkness around Lyerin began to dissipate, melting away like a shadow under the noon sun.


    As the ckness cleared, his surroundings slowly came into focus. He found himself standing in the center of a grand, circr room.


    The space was enormous, filled with towering columns and arched ceilings that reached impossibly high.


    The walls were lined with ornate tapestries, each depicting scenes of battle, conquest, and magic. The room had a somber atmosphere, heavy with the weight of history and power.


    Lyerin''s gaze swept across the room, taking in every detail. It was set up like a courtroom, with rows of seats arranged in a semicircle around him.


    Each seat was upied by a figure, their faces shrouded in shadow. But Lyerin could see their eyes, each pair glowing with a mixture of curiosity, disdain, and judgment.


    He recognized many of them instantly—figures from his past life, individuals who had caused him great pain and suffering.


    Their presence here was like a knife twisting in his gut, but he forced himself to remain calm, his expression as unreadable as ever.


    At the highest seat, positioned above the rest, sat Lord Victor. His regal posture and the way hemanded the room with his mere presence made it clear that he was the one in charge.


    Lord Victor''s eyes gleamed with amusement as he looked down at Lyerin, a faint smile ying on his lips.


    "Well, well, Lyerin," Lord Victor said, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You''ve certainly put on a show for us. It seems there were those who doubted my judgment in bringing you here." He chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "But I believe you''ve proven yourself more than capable."


    Lyerin remained silent, his eyes locked onto Lord Victor''s. He could feel the weight of the stares from those around him, each one measuring him, assessing him, judging him. But he didn''t flinch. He stood tall, his posture straight, his expression calm.


    One of the figures seated at a table to his right leaned forward, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Lyerin, do you truly intend to take on the ten special missions?"


    Without hesitation, Lyerin replied, "Yes." His voice was steady, devoid of any emotion.


    There was no doubt, no hesitation in his words.


    Another figure, a woman with sharp eyes that gleamed like a predator''s, spoke next. "And are you indeed the owner of a tribe?" There was a note of usation in her tone, as if she were searching for a reason to discredit him.


    "Yes," Lyerin answered, his gaze never wavering.


    A murmur ran through the room, the assembled figures exchanging nces. It was clear that this revtion had caused a stir. Owning a tribe was no small feat, but it also came with significant risks.


    One of the older figures, a man with a voice as harsh as gravel, spoke up. "You should know, boy, that relying on your tribe is a double-edged sword. If your tribe is destroyed, your Mana cycle will shatter. You may climb the ranks quickly, but you''ll fall just as fast. And if you fall during the ten special missions, you''ll never rise again."


    Lyerin''s expression remained neutral as he listened to the warning. He understood the risks, but he had made his decision long ago. "My tribe will be the strongest," he said, his voice firm. "There is no reason for it to be destroyed."


    The room fell into a tense silence. The figures seemed to be weighing his words, considering the implications.


    Lyerin could feel the challenge in the air, the unspoken doubt that still lingered among them.


    He decided to confront it head-on. "If you still question my ability," he said, his voice carrying a sharp edge, "then test me again. But this time, I don''t want to face those with weaker Mana cycles. I want to be challenged by those who are on par with me."


    The room erupted into murmurs, the figures around him clearly surprised by his boldness. But Lyerin didn''t care. He was done ying games. If they wanted to test him, then he would show them just how capable he was.


    Lord Victor''sughter cut through the murmurs, drawing all attention back to him. "As you wish, Lyerin," the one beside him said, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Let''s see if you can back up your words."


    Before Lyerin could react, a magic circle appeared beneath his feet. He felt a sudden pull, the familiar sensation of teleportation magic activating. He nced up at Lord Victor, who was watching him with an amused expression.


    "I was merely joking," Lyerin started to say, but it was toote. The magic circle red to life, and the next moment, he was sucked into an unknown void.


    The world around him spun wildly, colors and shapes blending together in a dizzying swirl. It felt like he was being dragged through space, his body pulled in every direction at once. But just as quickly as it had begun, the sensation stopped, and Lyerin was thrown onto solid ground.


    Hended on his feet, his senses reeling as he tried to regain his bnce. His vision was blurry, the world around him still spinning slightly. But after a moment, the blurriness began to fade, and he could see his surroundings clearly.


    Lyerin found himself in a vast, old church.


    The ce had an eerie, abandoned feel to it, as if it had been left to decay for centuries.


    The interior was dimly lit by the faint glow of candlelight, casting long, flickering shadows across the worn stone walls.


    The church was massive, with rows of crumbling pews stretching out before him.


    The once-grand altar at the front was now in disrepair, its golden ornaments tarnished and dull.


    The stained ss windows, which had once been masterpieces of craftsmanship, were cracked and broken, the colors faded with age.


    Dust and cobwebs hung thick in the air, clinging to every surface and giving the ce an air of neglect.


    Lyerin''s eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail.


    The church was silent, the only sound the faint creaking of the wooden beams overhead as they groaned under the weight of years.


    Despite its decrepit state, there was something strangely beautiful about the ce, a sense of history that permeated the air.


    As he stood there, Lyerin heard a voice echoing through the church, low and ominous.


    It was a voice that seemed toe from everywhere and nowhere all at once, reverberating off the stone walls and filling the space with a sense of foreboding.


    "Wee, halfling namee Lyerin," the voice said, its tone cold and calcting. "You have been brought here to prove your worth. Your task is simple: survive."


    Lyerin remained calm, his mind racing as he listened. He could sense that this was no ordinary challenge. The voice continued, detailing the dangers that awaited him.


    "Avoid the Batrider," the voice instructed. "A creature of the shadows, it hunts by night and will show you no mercy. Stay out of its path, or you will not live to see the dawn."


    Lyerin''s eyes narrowed slightly. He had heard of the Batrider before—a vicious creature known for its speed and deadly precision. It was said to be nearly impossible to detect until it was toote.


    "And be wary of the assassins of the Borgias family," the voice added. "They have been sent to eliminate you, and they will stop at nothing to see their mission fulfilled. Trust no one, and let your guard down for even a moment, and it will be yourst."


    The voice faded into silence, leaving Lyerin alone in the vast, echoing space.


    For a long moment, he stood there, processing everything he had just heard.


    The Batrider and assassins—both formidable opponents in their own right. But Lyerin was not one to back down from a challenge.


    A slow smile spread across his face, one that didn''t quite reach his eyes. "This," he murmured to himself, "is a piece of cake."


    He flexed his fingers, feeling the Shadow Mana pulse within him. It was a strange, almost intoxicating power, and he could feel it coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses and heightening his reflexes.


    Lyerin took a deep breath, centering himself. He knew that the real test was just beginning. The church, with all its eerie silence and crumbling grandeur, was about to be a battlefield. And Lyerin was more than ready to prove these racist bastards that he''s not one to deal with.


    The faint creak of a floorboard reached his ears, and Lyerin''s smile widened. His first opponent was already making their move.


    The game was on.