Chapter 9: The Beastpitt
Two weeks had bled into a blur of rhythmic, bone-deep exhaustion. The "Intensive Training Programme" had shifted from theory and synchronization to the cold, hard reality of combat. The air in the North Grounds no longer just smelled of ozone; it smelled of musk, dried blood, and the primal pheromones of monsters.
Roman stood at the edge of the Combat Basin, a massive sunken arena divided by high-tension energy shields. The "Phase Two" of training was simple: survival and conquest. The Academy had spent a fortune transporting mid-grade wild beasts from the Outer Territories—vicious, uncontracted creatures that viewed the students not as masters, but as lunch.
"Listen up, maggot-tamers!" Instructor Kael's voice boomed from the observation deck. "Phase One was for bonding. Phase Two is for blood. Each win earns you 10 Merit Points. Lose, and you'll be spending your weekend cleaning the beast pens. If your beast retreats, you fail. Begin!"
Roman felt the Ancient Heirloom Bracelet pulse against his skin, its cooling sensation a sharp contrast to the humid heat of the arena.
[CURRENT STATUS: ROMAN DAWSON]
Rank 1 — Level 7
Current Merit Points: 0
Target: Heart-Sap of the Thunder-Struck Ironwood (Required: 100 Points)
Beside him, John was practicing a series of air-slashes with the Star-Crushing Sword. The silver blade was hummed with a celestial frequency, its edges vibrating so fast they blurred. John had hit Level 7 alongside Roman, his physique becoming leaner and more corded with muscle.
"Ten points a pop," John muttered, his eyes fixed on the gate where a spiked mountain boar was being released. "Ten wins, Roman. If we sweep the morning session, you're one step closer to that sap."
Further down the line, Brent was holding court. His Wind-Ridge Wolf had grown significantly, its fur now a roiling storm of emerald needles. Brent was also at Level 7, but his arrogance had reached Level 100. He looked at Roman's sleeve—where Zuzu was tucked away—and spat on the ground.
"Ten points for a kill, zero for a corpse," Brent sneered. "Don't let your worm get stepped on, Dawson. The janitors hate cleaning up grease spots."
The loudest flare of power, however, came from the Mage sector. Ellen stood surrounded by a swirling vortex of heat. Her Sun-Flare Eagle had undergone a minor evolution; its feathers were now tipped with white-hot plasma.
[SCANNING TARGET: ELLEN THORNE][SCANNING TARGET: ELLEN THORNE]
Rank 2 — Level 8Rank 2 — Level 8
Status: Peak Potential
She was the undisputed ace of the year, the only one to break into Rank 2. She looked over at Roman, her eyes glowing with a faint orange light, a silent prayer for his safety written in her gaze.
"Match 4: Roman Dawson vs. Barbed-Tail Sand-Stalker!""Match 4: Roman Dawson vs. Barbed-Tail Sand-Stalker!"
The energy shield hissed open. Roman stepped into the sand-filled pit, his cane clicking softly against a stray rock. From the opposite gate, a creature the size of a motorcycle emerged. It was a desert predator, covered in tan, chitinous armor with a tail that ended in a cluster of poison-dripping bone shards. It was a Grade-D beast, Level 6—theoretically stronger than a standard E-grade snake.
The crowd in the stands, mostly students who had finished their matches, leaned forward.
"Is he really going to fight with that thing?"
"The Sand-Stalker's hide is too thick for a Wood-type. He's finished."
Roman didn't move. He reached into his collar. "Zuzu. Phase One."
"Zyzuzuzuzu!"
A green flash blurred from his shoulder. Zuzu landed in the sand, her scales shimmering with that deep, translucent emerald light. The Elemental Triangle within her hummed—the Water keeping her calm, the Wood reinforcing her muscles, and the Lightning acting as the hidden engine.
The Sand-Stalker hissed, its tail snapping forward like a whip.
"Dodge," Roman commanded.
Zuzu didn't just slither; she moved with a jerky, high-frequency vibration. Every time the tail slammed into the sand, she was already inches away, her body leaving faint, scorched trails in the heat.
"She's... she's fast," someone in the crowd whispered. "But she can't hurt it."
"Static Bind," Roman said calmly.
Zuzu circled the predator, her body dragging through the sand. To the onlookers, it looked like she was fleeing. But through the Overlord Soul, Roman could see the trap being laid. Zuzu was shedding microscopic threads of Wood-affinity silk, each one infused with a droplet of Water-affinity moisture to act as a conductor.
The Sand-Stalker lunged, its mandibles snapping. Zuzu leaped over its head, her tail flicking a tiny spark of white-blue lightning into the silk trail she had left behind.
CRACK.
The moisture-heavy silk acted like a circuit. A web of electricity erupted from the sand, coiling around the Sand-Stalker's legs. The beast roared, its muscles seizing as the lightning bypassed its thick armor through the conductive water-threads.
"Now," Roman whispered. "Parasitic Spark."
Zuzu dived. She didn't bite the armor; she bit the soft tissue beneath the beast's joint. She didn't just inject venom; she injected a concentrated seed of Wood energy that flourished instantly, fed by the beast's own internal Flux and Roman's Lightning.
The Sand-Stalker collapsed, paralyzed not by poison, but by its own nervous system being "overwritten" by Zuzu's energy.
"Match over! Winner: Roman Dawson!" Kael shouted, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.
[[MERIT POINTS ACQUIRED: 10][[MERIT POINTS ACQUIRED: 10]
[ZUZU EXPERIENCE GAINED: LEVEL 7 → LEVEL 8][ZUZU EXPERIENCE GAINED: LEVEL 7 → LEVEL 8]
Roman walked back to the prep area, Zuzu coiling triumphantly around his neck, her tiny head nuzzling his cheek affectionately.
"Zyzuzu! Zyzuzu!"
"Good girl," Roman murmured. He could feel the eyes on him—not pitying eyes anymore, but confused, wary ones.
Brent was staring, his knuckles white as he gripped his wolf's collar. John ran over, nearly tripping over his own sword. "Roman! That was... that wasn't a Wood-type move. What was that?"
"Physics, John," Roman said with a small, dry smile. "Water conducts, Wood binds, and Lightning... lightning settles the argument."
But Roman's internal map was already focused on the next match. He had ten points. He needed ninety more. His hand brushed the bracelet, and he could feel the Elemental Triangle in Zuzu starting to vibrate with a new, hungry intensity. The more she fought, the more the Primordial Lightning wanted to break free of its cage.
The Heart-Sap was no longer just a goal; it was a race against time.
"Next match!" Kael yelled. "Brent Miller vs. Steel-Hide Bear!"
As Brent stepped into the ring, desperate to reclaim his glory, Roman sat in the shadows of the prep bench. He didn't watch the fight; he didn't need to. He closed his clouded eyes and focused on the three-way hum in Zuzu's soul.
"Nine more," he whispered to the snake.
Zuzu let out a low, buzzing hum that sounded suspiciously like a growl. The predator was awakening, and the North Grounds was about to find out that "Control" didn't just mean restraining the enemy—it meant deciding exactly how they were going to fall.