Chapter 40: Reunion in the Colosseum!

Victor led the way, his footsteps striking steady rhythms across the rough rock surface.

The stone beam vanished into the shadows behind them, giving way to a corridor that gradually widened. The rough natural rock walls transitioned into smooth, clearly man‑made stone masonry.

After walking roughly three minutes, an archway appeared at the end of the corridor — far larger than the Beast Gate entrance, five paces wide and three meters tall. Two full rows of rune lamps were embedded in its frame, casting blue‑white light more than twice as bright as the lamps in the stone chamber. Victor did not slow down; he stepped straight through the arch.

Cecil followed across the threshold, and his field of vision exploded open.

He stood at the edge of a massive circular arena. The diameter stretched well over a hundred paces, paved with dark‑grey stone bricks. Glowing rune lines were set into the brick joints, arranged in concentric circles. The vaulted ceiling rose so high it was barely visible. Several luminous orbs hung suspended in the dark canopy like artificial stars, pouring down cold, even illumination.

Rising in tiers all around the arena were spectator platforms — not stone benches, but stepped elevated ledges. People stood or sat on every tier, easily numbering more than twenty‑odd. They clustered in small groups across different sections; some chatted, some meditated with their eyes closed, others stared at the arena floor where patterns shifted slowly across the stone.

"...So many people?" Freddy’s voice came from behind, brimming with unbridled surprise. "Did they all come through different portals?"

"I told you, this place is a gathering point," Victor said without turning his head. "The Beast Gate is only one passage. Anyone who clears their own gate can reach here. Some progress fast, some slow, and some —" he glanced sideways at two burly men arguing in a corner "— get trapped inside the trial grounds and end up staying here permanently."

Cecil’s gaze swept across the faces on the spectator tiers. The crowd ranged from young to old, dressed in all manner of attire: academy uniforms, leather armour, rough linen robes, and even a middle‑aged man dressed like a travelling merchant, squatting in a corner sharpening a short sword with a whetstone. Their spirit beasts were equally diverse: a metallic‑sheen beetle, a fully transparent serpent, three foxes of different colours, and a massive grey bird with a wingspan exceeding two meters. A chaotic yet vivid scene unfolded beneath the blue‑white dome light, masters and beasts packed closely together.

Then he saw Leon.

Leon sat on a platform on the third tier of the stands, a scroll spread across his knees. His Thunder Griffin crouched beside him, its golden feathers still glimmering in the dim light. Swan and Walter sat beside him, talking in low voices. Leon seemed to sense something, and lifted his head toward the arena entrance.

Their eyes met.

Leon’s expression barely shifted. Only the corner of his mouth tightened slightly, as if spotting something he had expected yet still did not wish to see. He closed the scroll on his lap and stood. The Thunder Griffin rose to its feet beside him, its golden plumage fluffed up slightly.

"Ashford," Leon said. His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly across the quiet edge of the arena. "You’re alive. Good."

"You as well," Cecil replied. "Did you clear the Storm Gate?"

Leon paused, stepping to the edge of his tier and looking down at Cecil and his party standing at the entrance. "I cleared it. Took a longer route than anticipated, but I found the exit." His gaze swept past Cecil to Vera, Martha, Emon and Lena behind him, before settling on Victor. "You’ve picked up more companions since last time."

"Met them along the way."

Leon did not press further. His eyes lingered briefly on Gwendolyn, who perched on Cecil’s shoulder, staring calmly back at him and his Thunder Griffin. The griffin’s golden pupils locked with Gwendolyn’s blue eyes. After two seconds, the griffin looked away, turning its head slightly.

"—Cecil!"

A familiar voice called from the far side of the arena, breathless with excitement. Cecil turned. A grey figure squeezed through the crowd. Oliver’s robe was dust‑covered, Robin perched on his shoulder, its grey feathers ruffled but alert. Behind him came Edwin, walking at a steady pace. His Rust Beetle clung to the back of his collar, its two antennae held high, a fresh shallow gash marring its carapace.

"You guys —" Oliver skidded to a halt in front of Cecil, catching his breath before continuing. "After we came out of the Storm Gate, we wandered for ages. Then Edwin emerged from the Wave Gate. We met on a fork in the path and followed the markers here." He looked over Cecil, Freddy and Lydia, relief plainly visible on his face. "You’re all alright. That’s wonderful."

Edwin stood a few steps back, nodding at Cecil. He said nothing, yet his hand paused for a moment as he inspected the shallow scratch on his beetle’s shell, only resuming his examination once he had confirmed everyone was safe.

"We’re all fine," Cecil said.

Leon stood on his platform, watching the reunion. He did not interrupt or urge them onward, simply stood in silence. The Thunder Griffin’s tail swayed slowly behind him. Swan leaned over and whispered something in Leon’s ear. Leon gave a tiny shake of his head, as if signalling "not yet".

The dark‑grey stone floor at the arena’s centre suddenly lit up. Concentric‑circle runes glowed bright blue‑white, seeping from the brick joints and spinning slowly along their circular paths. Victor stood at the arena edge, glancing sideways at Cecil, his usual faint smile playing on his lips.

"See?" Victor said. "I wasn’t lying. This truly is a colosseum‑style trial ground. Opponents are assigned freely, and the matching system automatically adjusts difficulty."

He jerked his chin toward the arena centre. "And the trial grounds have activated. A new round of matching has begun."

People in the stands began to move. Those scattered across the tiers rose to their feet and converged toward the arena edges, clustering in small groups, all watching the spinning blue‑white runes at the centre.

Leon descended from his platform and took position on the opposite side of the arena perimeter. He did not look at Cecil, yet his voice rang out clearly through the hush. "Since you are here too — let us see whose group clears the trial first."

Cecil stood on the opposite side, Gwendolyn perched on his shoulder, her tail brushing lightly against the back of his neck.

"Very well," he said.

Emon stepped forward from the crowd, his stride steadier than usual.

He refastened his shirt cuffs and straightened his tie. Silver‑Eye lifted off his shoulder and landed on his outstretched forearm. The grey falcon’s talons closed gently, its pale‑gold eyes fixed on the spinning blue‑white runes ahead.

Emon walked to the centre of the arena and turned to face the spectators in the stands, his tone as calm as delivering a routine report.

"I will go first," Emon said. "As the oldest among us, it is only fitting I bear the greatest risk. The three of you —" he nodded toward Cecil, Freddy and Oliver "— are still young. And you two —" he turned toward Vera and Lena "— are women. I shall take the lead."

Vera did not argue, though the corner of her mouth twitched. Martha stood beside her, her gruff voice calling out from behind. "If you get sent flying back, try to save some dignity."

Emon made no reply. He turned back toward the arena centre. Silver‑Eye took flight from his forearm, circled twice overhead, then settled back on his shoulder. Once Emon stood firm, the blue‑white runes accelerated, shifting from concentric circles into interweaving arcs, like a disassembled and reassembled symbol drawn in light across the stone bricks.

Then the runes stopped. A beam of light dropped vertically from the dark vault above, striking the stone three paces in front of Emon.

Something began to take shape within the beam.

First came the silhouette: four long limbs, a slightly arched neck, a tail longer than its body. Then fine details emerged. Scales materialized one by one, shifting from dark teal to deep green, finally settling into a metallic coppery‑brown hue. Two amber vertical pupils opened within the beam, narrowing to thin slits as they locked onto Emon.

A lizard. Roughly the size of a pony, with thick powerful limbs whose claws dug into the brick joints. A row of fine spines ran down its spine from neck to tail tip, each spine edged with faint phosphorescent glow. Most striking was its jaw — twice as wide as an ordinary lizard’s. When it opened its mouth, two rows of backward‑curving fangs were revealed, glistening with clear mucus between them.

Silver‑Eye’s feathers flared up the instant the beast appeared. The grey falcon launched from Emon’s shoulder, letting out a sharp cry, spreading its wings to full span in a clear warning posture. Emon raised a hand, signalling Silver‑Eye to stay aloft and not dive down.

"...Copper‑Jawed Lizard," Gwendolyn’s voice came from Cecil’s shoulder, carrying an unfamiliar note of gravity. "It is specially designed to counter avian spirit beasts. Its jaw‑strength can clamp Silver‑Eye’s wings shut entirely. Furthermore, its scales are nearly impervious to falcon talons — Silver‑Eye cannot pierce its armour."

Cecil stared at the Copper‑Jawed Lizard in the arena centre. Its amber slit‑pupils tracked Silver‑Eye in mid‑air, jaws slightly parted, rows of fine teeth glistening wet beneath the blue‑white light. Its tail swayed slowly behind it, small‑amplitude but steady, like a spring coiled and ready to strike.

"This matching system..." Freddy muttered from behind, his voice low. "It assigns each challenger an opponent specifically built to counter them."