"Run!"

Elara screamed the command, her voice cracking under the strain of exhaustion and sheer terror. She slammed the butt of her spear into the ground, bracing herself against a massive boulder.

The earth trembled.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the narrow canyon, vibrating through the soles of her boots. It wasn't the rhythmic march of soldiers, but the chaotic, earth-shattering stomp of monsters.

"Elara, I can't… my mana is dry," Mira gasped, stumbling behind her. The mage's robes were torn, revealing skin scraped raw by their desperate flight through the thorny underbrush. "I can't cast another barrier."

"Just keep moving!" Kaelin, their scout, hissed. She was limping, clutching a side wound that oozed dark blood between her fingers. "If we stop, we're dead."

They were disciples of the Violet Lotus Academy, a prestigious—albeit Third Tier—institution known for cultivating all-female teams of adventurers. They had arrived in the Wastelands with high hopes, intending to participate in the grand tournament organized by the world powers.

But they had made a fatal error.

While adventuring the perimeter of the tournament zone, they had stumbled into a spatial anomaly—a hidden entrance to a secondary Rift. They thought it was a "Faint" Rift, a low-level dungeon suitable for warm-ups.

They were wrong.

The density of the mana here was suffocating. The monsters were aggressive, coordinated, and terrifyingly strong.

"Roar!"

A shadow fell over them.

Elara looked up, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

Blocking their path was a mountain of grey muscle. An Ogre. It stood eight feet tall, its skin scarring and callous, wielding a tree trunk studded with jagged rocks.

And it wasn't alone. Behind it, two more Ogres emerged from the gloom, flanked by a screeching pack of goblins.

"We're trapped," Mira whispered, sliding to her knees. Tears streamed down her dust-streaked face. "We are going to die here. We are going to be eaten."

Elara gritted her teeth. She raised her spear, though her arms shook from fatigue. She was an Initiate, but her Strength attribute was barely a 4. Against an Ogre with a natural Strength of 15, she was nothing more than a toothpick.

"Stand up, Mira!" Elara yelled, trying to ignite a spark of fighting spirit. "We die standing!"

The lead Ogre grinned, revealing rotting yellow teeth. It raised its massive club high above its head. The air whistled as the weapon began its descent, promising a death that would turn them into paste.

Elara closed her eyes. She thought of her family. She thought of the academy. She braced for the crushing weight of oblivion.

Thwip.

A sound sliced through the heavy air. It was sharp, distinct, and impossibly fast.

BOOM.

A shockwave of heat and force slammed into Elara, knocking her backward.

She didn't feel pain. She felt… confusion.

She opened her eyes.

The Ogre was still standing, but its head was gone.

Where the massive, ugly face had been a second ago, there was now nothing but a fountain of black blood and smoke. The club fell from its limp fingers, crashing harmlessly to the side.

"What?" Kaelin breathed, staring at the headless corpse.

Before they could process the miracle, the air shimmered.

Thwip. Thwip.

Two more streaks of blue light flashed past them. They moved with a trajectory that defied physics, curving around the boulders.

The second Ogre roared in confusion before an arrow made of pure mana pierced its left eye. The projectile didn't stop. It glowed brighter.

Burst Arrow.

The monster's skull detonated from the inside out, showering the surrounding goblins in bone shards and brain matter.

The third Ogre panicked. It turned to run, but a third arrow struck its knee, blowing the joint apart and sending the behemoth crashing to the ground.

"Who is there?" Elara shouted, spinning around to find the source of the attack.

She saw nothing but the dense canopy of the twisted forest.

Then, a strange warmth enveloped her.

It started at her feet—a gentle, verdant light that spread upward like rising water. It washed over Mira and Kaelin as well.

"My… my side," Kaelin gasped, pulling her hand away from her wound.

The deep gash was knitting itself together before their eyes. The skin stretched and sealed, leaving not even a scar. The pain vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of vitality that made Elara gasp.

"Large area healing skill…" Mira whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief. "This is Rare quality skill. A domain spell!"

But the green light wasn't just benevolent.

The goblins that had been rushing toward them stepped into the same green circle.

"Grak!"

They screamed. The healing light that mended the humans acted like acid on the monsters. Their old scars tore open. Their noses began to bleed profusely. They fell to their knees, clutching their throats as they drowned in their own blood.

Vital Zone.

"Look at the ground!" Kaelin pointed, her voice trembling.

The pools of blood left by the dead Ogres and the bleeding goblins began to ripple. It was unnatural. The liquid defied gravity, swirling and hardening.

Blood Spike.

Crimson spears erupted from the earth. They were fast, brutal, and precise.

Shk. Shk. Shk.

Ten goblins were impaled instantly, lifted off their feet by the crystallized blood. The battlefield, which moments ago had been a slaughterhouse for the academy girls, had turned into a playground for an unseen force.

"Can't you guys give me a chance?"

A female voice drifted from the shadows. It sounded annoyed, almost petulant.

"I just reached level 9 in Dash! I wanted to hit level 10!"

Elara blinked. Was this person… complaining? Complaining about not getting to kill Ogres?

"Ezra sister, don't be shameless," another voice chimed in. This one was softer, younger, but held a teasing reprimand. "You have killed more than three of us combined. You nearly ran past the effective range of my healing."

The bushes parted.

The rescuers stepped into the light.

Elara felt her breath hitch.

The first to emerge was a woman with wild, silver hair and fluffy ears that twitched atop her head. She was petite, almost delicate, with a tail swaying behind her. A Beastkin.

"A halfling?" Mira murmured, though the girl looked more like a wolf spirit in human form. Her hands glowed with the residue of the potent life magic.

Next to her walked an Elf. She was tall, regal, and breathtakingly beautiful. Her purple hair cascaded over a dress of white silk that seemed impossibly clean for a Rift. Above her head, a mana arrow hovered, spinning lazily, waiting for a target.

Standing guard beside them was a warrior woman with raven-black hair, her fitted tunic doing little to conceal the powerful, corded muscles of her thighs and shoulders.

And behind them, leaning against a tree with practiced boredom, was a woman with hair the color of fresh blood. Her crimson eyes scanned the carnage with disinterest, and she yawned, covering her mouth with a pale hand.

"They are all beautiful," Kaelin whispered, voicing the thought in all their minds.

These weren't just adventurers. They looked like nobility. They looked like goddesses who had descended to the mud for a stroll.

But it wasn't the women who made Elara's heart race.

It wasn't the display of overwhelming magical power that made her cheeks flush a deep, embarrassing red.

It was the man standing further back.

He stepped out from the shadows of the tree line.

He was shirtless.

His skin was bronzed and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His muscles were defined, corded with a power that seemed coiled and ready to snap. His abdomen was a landscape of ridges and valleys, a perfect washboard that drew the eye and held it hostage.

His blonde hair was messy, matted with dirt and streaks of dried monster blood. His face was smeared with soot.

He looked feral. He looked like a king of the wild.

He carried a simple iron sword, resting it casually on his shoulder.

But it was his eyes that froze Elara in place.

They were dark, intense, and filled with an aura that commanded absolute submission.

Intimidation.

For someone to have such a skill, he might be a powerful leader of an adventure party.

He didn't speak. He just looked at them.

The pressure radiating from him was heavier than the Ogre's presence. It was a suffocating weight that made Elara want to drop her spear and kneel. It wasn't fear of death; it was an instinctive recognition of an alpha.

The three disciples of the Violet Lotus Academy stood paralyzed.

Mira gulped audibly, the sound echoing in the silence. Her eyes were glued to his V-line, tracing the path where his trousers hung low on his hips.

Kaelin forgot she had ever been injured. She stared at his broad shoulders, her mouth slightly open.

Elara felt a heat rising in her core that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of battle.

"Are you three lost?"

His voice was deep. It rumbled through the canyon, vibrating in their chests.

Elara tried to speak. She tried to formulate a sentence that sounded like a grateful, professional adventurer.

"We... uh..."

She failed. She just stared at his abs.

The red-haired woman rolled her eyes.

"Great," she muttered, her voice carrying clearly. "More strays."

"Hush, Summer," the Elf said, stepping forward with an elegant smile. "Husband is just being kind."

Husband?

Elara was taken aback, then a bit disappointed, then returned to her senses and then a bit embarrassed. Why should she care?

She looked from the Elf, to the Beastkin, to the Warrior woman who had just joined them from the flank, wiping green blood from her blade.

They all looked at the shirtless man with eyes full of devotion.

"He... he is married?" Mira whispered, sounding devastated.

"To all of them?" Kaelin added, her voice filled with a strange mixture of shock and envy.

The man stepped forward, the movement making the muscles in his chest flex. All three gulped.

"This zone is dangerous for Initiates," he said. "The Ogres hunt in packs here. Go back to the entrance."

He pointed his sword back the way they came.

"Unless you want to become dinner."

Elara nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes, sir! We are leaving!"

She grabbed Mira and Kaelin, dragging them backward. They stumbled, their eyes still lingering on the golden-haired god of war who had saved them.

As they retreated, Elara heard the small beastkin girl speak again.

"Husband, can we keep them? They look pitiful."

"No, Nina," the deep voice replied, sounding amused. "We have enough mouths to feed. And my kidneys need a break."

Elara didn't understand the comment about kidneys, but as she ran, her face burning, she couldn't help but glance back one last time.

The man was walking away, deeper into the Rift, surrounded by his beautiful, deadly wives.

He was walking toward the danger they had just fled.

"Who was that?" Mira asked breathlessly as they reached the safety of the outer perimeter.

Elara shook her head, her heart still pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"I don't know," she whispered, touching the spot on her chest where his gaze had landed. "But I think we just met the reason this tournament is going to be interesting."

"Let's report about this rift to the teacher. It's not faint. I feel like it has a connection to that Rift too…" Elara said, to which the three nodded.

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