The remaining twenty participants stood in a straight line.
No one spoke.
The duel chamber felt smaller than before, as if the walls themselves had crept inward to watch. The cold stone floor still bore dark stains that had not yet dried—silent proof of those who had failed. The metallic scent of blood lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the sharp odor of oil from the mechanical cage at the center of the arena.
Ryan tightened his grip on the spear in his hands. His palms were damp with sweat.
In the middle of the room stood the circular iron enclosure—the monster cage. Its black bars were thick and scarred, like something that had endured countless battles. Right now it sat motionless, silent as a sealed abyss waiting to swallow the next sacrifice.
The man in the suit stood with his hands behind his back. His posture was perfectly straight, his expression composed. To him, this was nothing more than a procedure.
"Very well," he said calmly. "We will continue the test."
His voice was flat.
But to the twenty people in this room, those words weighed more than a death sentence.
"Participant number 06. Step forward."
A woman stepped out from the line.
Ryan noticed her immediately.
She was of medium height, her build lean and athletic. Not bulky like a bodybuilder—her strength was refined, balanced. The kind of physique carved through years of discipline rather than vanity. Her shoulders were proportional, her arms toned but compact. Every movement she made was light and controlled.
Her hair was tied high to keep it from blocking her vision.
Her eyes were calm.
She looked ready.
Ryan swallowed.
She wasn't an ordinary person.
The woman stopped several meters from the cage and raised her longsword diagonally in front of her. Her stance was stable, feet shoulder-width apart. Her breathing was steady, slow, controlled.
The iron platform beneath the cage rumbled.
With a grinding metallic roar, the circular structure slowly descended into the floor.
Silence followed.
Then it rose again.
Inside—
A goblin.
Its skin was a dull, sickly green. Its small body was wiry but muscular, veins visible beneath its flesh. Red eyes burned with feral intelligence. In its right hand it held a rusted dagger, jagged and stained.
A real monster.
Not a hologram.
Not a rumor.
The cage door slid open.
The goblin shrieked and lunged forward instantly.
"GRAAAK!"
But participant number 06 did not retreat.
Clang!
Her blade collided with the goblin's dagger. Sparks burst between steel and rusted iron.
The goblin attacked viciously, swinging wildly yet fast. Its movements were erratic—unpredictable. But every strike was met with precision.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The woman's footwork was nearly silent against the stone floor. She didn't try to overpower the goblin. She didn't match its aggression.
She read it.
Ryan held his breath.
Every swing of her sword was efficient. Clean. No wasted motion. No unnecessary flourish. It was obvious—she had trained for years.
The goblin lunged low, trying to stab upward toward her abdomen.
She rotated her torso slightly, letting the blade pass inches from her body. In the same motion, she countered with a horizontal slash.
The goblin jumped back.
It wasn't stupid.
It circled, red eyes scanning, then attacked again—this time with rapid consecutive strikes, forcing her to step back twice.
Gasps escaped from a few participants.
But number 06's expression did not change.
She was waiting.
The goblin raised its dagger high above its head—a wide, committed motion.
Too wide.
That was the opening.
With one decisive step forward, she thrust her sword straight toward its neck.
Sreet!
The sound of flesh splitting echoed in the chamber.
The goblin froze mid-motion.
A thin crack of light spread across its body.
Then—
Its form shattered into black particles, dissolving into the air.
Silence fell.
A small crystal dropped onto the stone floor with a soft clink.
The woman did not pant. She did not tremble.
The man in the suit spoke. "Participant number 06. Passed."
She calmly picked up the crystal and returned to the line.
Ryan stared at her, awe tightening his chest.
She wasn't strong because she was large.
She was strong because she was precise.
And that realization made the spear in Ryan's hands feel heavier.
"Participant number 09."
A thin man with a pale face stepped forward. His hands were already shaking.
The cage descended.
Rose again.
Another goblin emerged.
The door opened.
The goblin charged.
Number 09 panicked immediately.
He swung too early—too fast—without timing.
The rusted dagger slashed across his forearm.
He screamed.
Blood sprayed onto the stone floor.
His stance collapsed. His movements turned chaotic.
Within seconds, the man in the suit moved.
The goblin was thrown back into the cage with frightening speed.
"Failed."
No applause.
No sympathy.
Number 09 was dragged away by medical staff.
The remaining participants stiffened.
Ryan felt his heartbeat in his ears.
So that was the difference.
Technique—or panic.
"Participant number 11."
A large man stepped forward.
He was built like a professional athlete—broad shoulders, thick chest, arms layered with visible muscle. Veins traced along his forearms. In his left hand he carried a round shield. In his right, a short, heavy-bladed axe.
He looked like a walking fortress.
Ryan swallowed.
This was completely different from number 06.
If she had been a sharp blade—
This man was a warhammer.
The cage descended once more.
When it rose, the third goblin stood inside.
The door opened.
The goblin lunged.
Bang!
Its first strike crashed into the shield.
The impact echoed loudly.
But number 11 didn't budge.
Not a single step.
The muscles in his arms tightened. His jaw clenched.
He pushed forward and swung his axe.
The goblin dodged left.
Fast.
It spun around, attempting to attack from behind.
Several participants gasped.
But number 11 rotated just in time.
Clang!
The shield intercepted again.
This fight was different.
Rougher.
Heavier.
The goblin attacked from multiple angles. Number 11 endured each blow, using his shield as a wall.
Ryan saw sweat running down the man's temple.
His breathing grew heavier.
The goblin slowed too.
Its strikes lost a fraction of their speed.
Number 11 noticed.
He waited.
One second.
Two.
The goblin swung from the right.
The shield blocked.
And then—
Number 11 surged forward, slamming the goblin off balance.
He raised the axe high above his head.
He aimed for the neck.
The axe descended—
The goblin shifted half a step.
The blade nearly missed.
Ryan's breath caught.
If it failed—
With a roar, number 11 forced the swing deeper.
Sreet!
The axe bit into the goblin's shoulder.
A crack of bone echoed.
He didn't stop.
He drove the blade further, splitting through muscle and down toward the torso.
The goblin shrieked.
Its body fractured.
Then it dissolved into black particles.
A crystal fell to the ground.
Number 11 stood still for a moment.
Then—
He dropped to one knee.
His breathing was ragged. His hands trembled.
Even a man that large had nearly collapsed after fighting a single goblin.
The medical team prepared to move, but the man in the suit raised his hand.
"He is conscious."
Number 11 slowly picked up his crystal and staggered back into line.
His steps were heavy.
But his eyes shone.
He had passed.
Ryan looked at the two crystals now held by two very different people.
One had won through refined technique.
One had won through strength and endurance.
Two styles.
Two paths.
The same result.
Passed.
Ryan lowered his gaze to his spear.
He wasn't a trained swordswoman.
He wasn't a muscular giant.
He was just a construction worker.
A man who carried cement bags instead of shields.
The man in the suit spoke again.
"The test is not over."
His gaze was cold as it swept across them.
"Prepare yourselves."
The cage began to descend once more.
Its mechanical rumble echoed like the heartbeat of something enormous beneath the earth.
Ryan felt it in his chest.
Sooner or later—
His number would be called.
And when that moment came…
He would have to prove that he deserved to stand in a dungeon.
Or he would become someone who forgot everything.
And the world would continue turning—
Without ever knowing that he had almost become a Hunter.