The guard behind the door spoke as they both entered. “Wele to Trial Tower.”

  As they passed through the door, a grand hall opened up before Oliver. Several leather armchairs were scattered around, fag an arena on the floor below them. Red neon lights illumihe spectacle, casting a vibraric glow over the se.

  Two fighters were in the arena. One was tall aremely thin, with a long rea each of his attacks. The hter, oher hand, was a bit shorter but very muscur. Each punch seemed to carry a lot of power. However, both seemed very generic, with nothing special about their attaovements.

  "Ouch!" Nico said as he watched the taller fighter take a punch to the face. He eveo the ground but got back up. His face was clearly swollen from the impact.

  “When you're sure you 't win, ask to stop. Don't be an idiot like that guy,” Nico poio the losing fighter. “Yoal here is to learn and put on a good show. Don’t wear your body down to the point where you ’t pete in future matches.”

  Oliver hough he still had questions. “But what exactly is… this pce?”

  “This is one of many pces the Empire pretends does,” Nico said, raising both arms to gesture at the hall around them.

  They approached a ter where several attendants were w. One of them reized Nid approached.

  “What do we have for tonight, Mr. Nico?” the attendant asked.

  “I’d like to sign up my ‘pupil’ and pce a thousand credits on him,” Nico responded, raising his Gau for the attendant.

  A soft beep firmed the transa.

  Oliver’s eyes widened in shock at the quick exge of a thousand credits. A thousand imperial dolr credit was enough to sustain a family for a month—he couldn’t imagine so much money being wagered on his performance.

  “A-a thousand credits?” Oliver stammered.

  “Of course, here s smaller than that are allowed,” Nico expined. “You’ll find all sorts of people here, but two types e the most often—ex-military personnel looking to make money and nobles looking to throw some credits around food fight.”

  While Nico tio expin the pce, the fight in the ri on. Finally, the taller oppo was knocked unscious, and his body was dragged out of the spotlight.

  “Don’t worry, he’s... he'll be fine,” Nico reassured Oliver. “This is the Trial Tower. It may seem small from the outside, but there are 100 floors. Every time you win, you gain access to the floor. The biggest gamblers are oop floors. If you win, you get 30% of the total bets pced on your match. So, if you attract attention, you could get rich quickly. But in your case, just focus on winning to fight stronger oppos.”

  While Nico expihey sat at a table with a clear view of the arena.

  “What did you mean by ‘A pce the Empire pretends does?’” Oliver asked.

  “Well, betting on fights is illegal in the Empire,” Nico replied. “But there’s so much money here, especially in Selehat they pretend everything’s fine.”

  While Nico expined, anht had begun. This time, it was between a boy and a girl, both of whom looked very young—perhaps even youhan Oliver.

  “Oh, that’s rare,” Nico raised his eyebrows in surprise. “It’s not often that the Houses send their members to fight here, but even they need real experience.”

  People at nearby tables whispered among themselves while others openly cheered for one of the fighters.

  Whech began, the girl quickly dashed toward the boy. Before he could react, she had already attacked his legs, bringing him to the ground. With a few swift movements Oliver couldn’t quite follow, she trapped his arm between her legs, log it against her body.

  “CRACK!”

  The move was just as quick as the fight’s start. The boy’s arm broke in a siion. His guttural scream left the audien shock.

  “DING! DING! DING!”

  “Damn, that was fast. But it seems she’s very well-trained,” Niented as Oliver’s face turned pale from the demonstration. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a better ce. Plus, before the 25th floor, there are ner ons, and only after the 50th will you face a real Ranger.”

  Oliver tried to read Nico’s expression to see if he could trust him, but he couldn’t dis much. Still fused and shaken by the fight, he tried to catch a glimpse of the boy, but just like the previous fighter, he was quickly carried out of the ring.

  As Oliver tried to stand up to get a better view of the petitors, Nico pced a hand on his shoulder. “e on, it’s almost your turn.”

  Nico led Oliver to a separate area, reserved fhters only. Ihe room were several people, many of them warming up and going through movements to calm their nerves before their fight.

  “Your first fight should be straightforward, but our deal doeshere,” Nico expined. “If you want any ce at passing your tests, you’ll o reach the 10th floor. That’s usually where House members stop. It’s a good milestone for your first experience.”

  Oliver nodded, listening carefully.

  “But today, I want you to face three floors. Back to back. Show me your potential. Your professor may have believed in you, but now it’s time for you to show me what you’re capable of,” Nico cluded.

  Nico saw a more serious expression take over Oliver’s face for the first time. With only a few minutes left before his fight, the boy began to calm himself for what was to e.

  Oliver khe path he had chosen wouldn’t be easy, and he had made peace with his decision back when he spoke with e.

  “Yes, sir,” Oliver responded.

  Nico said his goodbyes, inf Oliver that he couldn’t stay in the preparation room. Finally, Oliver was left aloh his thoughts and the hters.

  The boy sat on one of the benches lining the room. His feet began to tremble as he tried to move to ease his ay, but with each passing mi only seemed to grow. The small room started to feel custrophobic, the walls pressing in, his heart rag and his breath beiic.

  “BUZZ!”

  Without knowing how much time had passed, his Gau vibrated.

  | mat 5 minutes.| Proceed to the end of the hallway to prepare for yht.

  ‘Finally,’ Oliver thought.

  He jumped up from the bench, doing a few small hops and rolling his head in circles. Taking long, deep breaths, he left the room. He hadn’t paid much attention to the yout earlier, so now he was slightly fused about where to go.

  Fortunately, he only o follow the crowd's sound. At the end of the hallway, red neon lights greeted him, along with an attendant who looked like a security guard.

  “Oliver?” the guard asked.

  “Yes,” Oliver nodded in response.

  “You’ll enter in one minute. Wait for my signal,” the guard replied, looking out into the arena.

  Oliver began rotating his arms to keep himself loose. He wasn’t wearing gloves or protective gear, just his uniform.

  ‘I guess that’s expected? After all, this is an underground fight, no matter how luxurious it looks,’ Oliver thought as he waited for the signal.

  “Go ahead,” the guard’s voiapped Oliver out of his thoughts.

  Walking through the hallway, Oliver finally stepped into the lower level of the Trial Tower. Above him were dozens of tables where spectators were seated, watg the matches, while in front of him was the arena, bathed in the familiar red neon glow.

  As he ehe ring, Oliver noticed it was more spacious than he’d expected, allowing room for medium-range bat. The walls were covered in steel, ensuring the room’s durability.

  Oher side of the ring, Oliver saw his oppo. He looked a bit older, perhaps 16 or 17 years old—someone who had likely graduated from the Academy but hadn’t yet bee a Ranger.

  His face was gaunt, almost cadaverous, though he was taller than Oliver, with longer arms.

  ‘Hmm… this could be tricky,’ Oliver thought.

  “TCH!”

  A floating holographic head appeared betweewo fighters. Had Oliver not already seen other holograms, this might have surprised him, but he was too focused on his oppoo be caught off guard.

  “I will be the referee for this match. Basic rules—no prote. If you pass out, you automatically lose. Immobilize your oppo, and it’s an automatic loss. No fighting to the death. Uood?” the floating head asked.

  Both fighters nodded, beginning to warm up. Oliver bounced lightly in the arena, his arms still sore from his previous fight with Kyle. But he had learned a lot. This time, things would be different.

  “Betting will begin on my signal!” the floating head annouo the crowd. “3… 2… 1… Begin!”

  “DING!”

  GCLopes