I couldn't move.
None of my domain perks were responding.
The blood beneath us was still.
The Oni were closing in.
My lips curved upward.
Not from confidence.
From defiance.
Then the Curse Weaver's message appeared.
[Open the domain again to mend it. Do not pronounce the spell. It may intensify the side effects. Use Devil Eyes.]
Not pronounce it?
That was abnormal.
But I had no other option.
I activated Devil Eyes.
The world sharpened violently.
I forced the domain open without incantation.
A freezing sensation pierced my chest.
Something heavier than mana surged outward from my feet.
The space twisted.
Wind exploded around us.
The arena shifted.
The domain reopened.
But this time—
Red sparks crackled around the cosmic relic sphere the Oni held.
Devilish, unstable currents.
Not mana.
Corruption.
The Oni instinctively dropped it.
Before it could fall—
The blood beneath it rose.
Shaped into a mouth.
And swallowed it whole.
Reality trembled.
The moment the relic was consumed—
The ground beneath every Oni rippled.
Serpents of blood shot upward and coiled around their legs.
They tried to move.
The serpents bit.
Each bite sent paralysis through their bodies.
They tried to cast spells—
The serpent bit again.
Their bodies stiffened completely.
When one of them tried to draw his blade—
A sharp spear formed from blood and pierced straight through his back.
The domain was punishing resistance.
And then—
A laugh echoed.
Cold.
Haunting.
Mocking.
It wasn't coming from the sky.
It was the domain itself.
The blood moved with precision.
Shadow-slave dashed through them.
Each slash cut a throat cleanly.
And we were forced to watch.
If we tried to look away—
The pressure increased.
As if refusal would mean something worse.
One by one—
They died.
Not in chaos.
In order.
The laugh continued.
Even I felt uneasy.
When it ended—
Silence returned.
Only bodies remained.
I walked toward their king's corpse.
His crown-stone glowed green.
My own was blue.
I embedded his into mine.
Blue and green fused—
Becoming cyan.
The energy felt denser.
Sharper.
The domain dissolved.
Bodies of the Oni lay scattered.
The cyan crown crystal pulsed faintly after merging.
We regrouped immediately.
Healing magic flowed between us.
"Quick," one of the elves whispered.
"We return to the castle before planning further."
That was the first objective.
We had just cleared one route.
Then—
All three arena doors opened.
Trolls entered.
They were larger than the Oni but without mana .
But size wasn't what unsettled me.
The Troll King stepped forward.
In his hand—
A black blade.
The moment he drew it—
Mana near him distorted.
A black anti-mana zone formed around his body.
It wasn't massive.
But anything within its radius felt unstable.
So the relic belongs to him.
The other trolls carried simple iron swords.
Nothing special.
They didn't need more.
The Troll King advanced first.
I raised my own iron sword.
Simple.
Unblessed.
Unenhanced.
First clash.
The moment I entered his radius—
My mana stabilization wavered.
The devil blood inside me reacted violently.
The anti-mana zone suppressed the flow I was using to control my body.
The impact threw me backward.
I slid across the stone floor.
The headache sharpened.
My vision flickered.
I forced myself forward again.
Second clash.
Inside his zone—
My body felt heavier.
Slower.
The reinforcement holding me together weakened.
His strength wasn't just physical.
It was layered with suppression.
My iron sword vibrated violently from the collision.
I barely held it.
The other trolls began surrounding my team.
Iron blades at the ready.
I tried to open my domain—
Nothing.
It wasn't responding.
The earlier mend and intensification had already strained it.
And inside his anti-mana zone—
It was worse.
My nose started bleeding.
The Troll King didn't hesitate.
His fist connected with my head.
Without proper stabilization—
The force was overwhelming.
I crashed against the stone near the throne platform.
Blood filled my mouth.
Before I could rise—
He grabbed me and slammed me into the ground.
The anti-mana zone pressed down like invisible weight.
Devil blood churned uncontrollably.
Without stable mana—
It became poison instead of power.
When I forced my eyes open—
He was sitting on the throne.
Not mine.
The throne tied to the second mission route.
The alternate way to clear this trial.
My team was restrained.
Iron blades at their necks.
And I—
Bleeding at the base of that throne.
Unable to even stabilize myself within his relic's radius.
This wasn't brute defeat.
It was strategic counter.
And we walked into it without preparation.