Mork stepped through the gate and entered the familiar chamber. At one end stood the massive dragon head, its stone jaws closed, silent for now. Mork walked to the opposite side of the chamber, positioning himself directly in front of it.
Before the instructor could even give an order, he made a small gesture—and the trial began.
Mork planted his feet firmly on the ground and took a steady stance.
A deep rumbling echoed through the chamber. Moments later, a pressurized beam of water burst from the dragon's mouth and slammed straight into Mork's chest.
But this time, Mork was ready.
He gritted his teeth and held his stance, muscles tightening as he resisted the crushing force of the water. For several moments, he remained still, fighting against the impact. Slowly—step by step—he began to push forward, inching closer to the dragon's head.
The instructor noticed the movement. His arms folded, a stern look forming in his eyes.
As Mork continued advancing, the instructor's expression shifted—surprise flickering across his face. But the moment did not last.
Mork felt it. I'm doing it, he thought. I'm winning.
That thought went to his head.
His focus slipped for just a second.
His balance broke.
The water beam struck him with full force, lifting him off his feet and hurling him across the chamber. His body slammed into the opposite wall, and everything went dark.
The instructor looked down and nodded slowly, disappointment clear in his eyes—as if ashamed of the hope he had briefly placed in Mork.
When Mork regained consciousness, he lay still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling.
Then he heard the instructor's voice.
"Rise and shine, Lord Mork. If it won't hurt your knees, please stand up so I may announce the result of the trial."
Mork groaned softly but forced himself to his feet.
"The Trial of Endurance has concluded," the instructor said. "Lord Mork has earned a D-rank in this trial. With that, your overall rank is now C-rank."
He turned away. "You may leave. The guards will escort you to your new quarters."
Mork exited the chamber, a guard leading him through the Citadel. Once again, he passed the long corridor lined with fifty C-rank rooms.
His eyes lingered on Room 50.
I stayed there last time, he thought. I wonder which room I'll get now.
The guard stopped in front of Room 25.
"This is your assigned room," the guard said.
Mork opened the door—and froze.
Inside were two bunk beds pushed against the wall. In the center of the room stood an ogre boy around his age, a sword in his hand. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he breathed heavily, clearly in the middle of training.
Mork turned to the guard. "I think we've come to the wrong room. It's already occupied."
The guard replied calmly, "No. This is your room. All C-rank rooms accommodate two trainees."
Mork frowned. "But the room I stayed in before had only one bed."
"That was Room 50," the guard explained. "It's an exception. Since you didn't have a rank before, we couldn't pair you with anyone. You were assigned that room for one night only. Now that you're an official C-ranker, you'll be sharing."
Mork nodded and stepped inside.
The guard left soon after.
"So," Mork said carefully, "I guess we'll be sharing the room from now on."
The ogre boy replied sharply, "Do you have a problem with that?"
"No, no—I didn't mean—" Mork stopped as the boy fixed him with a stern glare.
After a moment, Mork moved toward the lower bunk.
"Lower one's yours," the ogre boy said loudly. "Upper one is mine."
Without arguing, Mork dropped onto the lower bed. The softness of the mattress felt almost unreal after everything he'd endured. He let out a quiet breath.
After a moment, he sat up and watched as the ogre boy resumed his training.
"I think I've seen you before," Mork said.
He paused. "Ah—now I remember. I saw your duel on my first day at the Citadel. You were fighting a brown-haired guy. And the second time, I saw you at the D-rank training grounds while I was heading to the stables."
The ogre boy snorted. Brown-haired guy? he thought. That big-headed minotaur?
He scoffed. What a pain he was.
Mork blinked. "Wait… there are minotaurs in the Citadel?"
"Yes," the boy replied flatly. "The Citadel is open to all creatures of the jungle."
There was nothing more to say.
Mork lay back on his bed. Before closing his eyes, he asked, "By the way… what's your name?"
The ogre boy hesitated. "Since we're going to be roommates, I guess I have no choice. My name is Desmond."
"And yours?"
"Mork."
Desmond paused. "Mork… sounds familiar." He shook his head. "Anyway, we should sleep. Tomorrow's going to be long."
With that, both of them settled into their beds.
And soon, the room fell silent.