Valerius said quietly, “Try not to die. This place is dangerous.”

  Eliana arched an eyebrow. “I should be telling you the same thing.”

  “Believe me,” Valerius muttered, “I know.”

  He paused for a moment, his gaze falling to the floor beneath them. “Thanks.”

  Eliana frowned. “For what?”

  “For what you did back there,” he replied. His voice softened, just slightly. “I… I haven’t seen my mom since I got here. When I saw that thing pretending to be her, I threw all reason out the window.”

  Eliana’s expression didn’t change. “Well, you repaid your debt when you almost killed us.”

  Valerius smirked faintly. “You weren’t going to die. I had everything under control. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up.”

  “Next time?” she repeated, tilting her head.

  “It’s nice to have an ally for the next round.”

  “I have Maloi,” Eliana said sharply. “We don’t need you.”

  “Really?” Valerius countered. “If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve been disqualified.”

  Eliana’s eyes narrowed. “And if it wasn’t for me, you would’ve been disqualified. So who needs who here?”

  Valerius chuckled. “The next round won’t be one-on-one. You’ll almost certainly get ganged up on. Wouldn’t it be nice to have an ally?”

  He stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. As he turned away, his voice drifted back to her. “Think about it.”

  ---

  The Next Day

  A booming, dramatic voice echoed across the island, playful yet commanding:

  >“Okay my beautiful people!” Balling’s words rang out like a festival announcer hyped for war. “The island has been fixed, reinforced, and polished—yes, Balling supervised every rock personally! Which means you can go all out! Break things, burn things, smash things—Balling will just fix it again later!”

  He laughed, the sound bouncing across the sky like a mad drum. “Now! Phase Three of our glorious little bloodsport: The Relic Hunt!”

  His tone sharpened, dripping with excitement. “Scattered across this lovely, freshly refurbished island are three very special Relics. Each of you needs three to advance. They are guarded by… mmm, let’s call them ‘friends of Balling’—ancient Spirits who will test your body, your mind, and maybe your pretty little souls!”

  The ground beneath them trembled, and golden light streaked through the sky as three distant points glimmered like stars.

  “You can earn them… you can steal them… you can even form delicious little alliances.” His chuckle was dark, teasing. “But betrayals… ahhh, betrayals are the spice of this game, are they not? Do what you must. Just remember—by the time the bell rings, if you don’t have three relics, the ground will eat you alive.”

  Balling’s voice softened mockingly, as if consoling a child. “So good luck, my darlings. Try not to make it boring for me.”

  ---

  The once-shattered landscape of the island had been reborn into something unrecognizable. Mountains rose where none had been, rivers cut through new valleys, and jagged obsidian plains shimmered with unnatural light.

  Deep beeneath the ground A Pesterio stormed up to the Elf responsible, grabbing him by the collar. “What’s wrong with you?! I told you to fix the place, not completely change it!”

  The Elf slapped his hands away, snarling. “How the hell do you expect me to remember what this entire island looked like? Do you remember the shape of every mountain? Every river? Well, do you?!”

  The Pesterio’s face burned with frustration.

  “Exactly,” the Elf spat, turning his back. “So get your hands off me.”

  With a dismissive wave, the Elf walked away, muttering under his breath about ungrateful supervisors. “Damn assholes. Why do I even put up with this shit?”

  He began ascending the long, staircase that led out of the ground, his voice growing louder as he ranted to himself. “I have a Transmutus Seed — and an epic one, too. I’m one of the Young Catastrophes. I should be feared, respected, treated like a goddamn equal to those so-called higher-ups. But nooo… I’m just their fixer, their lapdog. If I didn’t need them to take me to Mazorik, I would’ve quit a long time ago.”

  His footsteps echoed like drums against the stone steps, his anger boiling with each stride.

  In Yilheim, there were the Unbound — criminals who raided unknown territories without Raider Licenses, tearing through kingdoms, looting, and leaving trails of destruction. Among them existed an even rarer breed: The Young Catastrophes.

  All under thirty. All wielding catastrophic levels of destructive power.

  They had each done something so monstrous, so infamous, that the world branded them with this title. They had emerged like a plague within the past year — anomalies of sheer devastation walking among mortals.

  And here, in the Plunder Island Trials, more would be born.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  ---

  Suddenly, a massive holographic projection shimmered into existence above every rest zone, visible to every contestant. Three glowing objects rotated in the air — each one alien and radiant:

  A jagged, crown-like object, humming with faint whispers: The Wailing Crown.

  A twisted, chalice-like relic filled with swirling crimson light: The Blood Chalice.

  A slender blade made of mirror-like crystal, endlessly reflecting its surroundings: The Mirror Blade.

  Balling’s voice boomed across the island, dripping with playful arrogance, yet underscored with menace.

  > “Okay, my lovely, bloodthirsty people! Feast your eyes on these three delightful little toys — The Wailing Crown, The Blood Chalice, and The Mirror Blade! Ohhh, don’t they just scream danger and bad decisions?”

  > “You need all three of them to survive this phase. Don’t worry — there are many scattered across the island. But…” his tone dropped into a mischievous purr, “…not enough for all of you.”

  > “You want them? Earn them. They are guarded by ancient Spirits — not ghosts, not corpses, but beings older than your pathetic little empires. They don’t care about your titles, your beauty, or your tragic backstories. They only care about whether you can take what you want… or die trying. If you think you can, you can negotiate with them too. They're not like those boring spirits you know.”

  > “And if you’re thinking, ‘Oh, Balling, I’ll just let someone else fight and steal it later!’…” He chuckled. “…Good! Betray each other! Form alliances! Then stab them in the back like the cunning little rats you are. Balling loves a good betrayal.”

  > “But remember…” his voice hardened, every syllable sharp as a blade, “…when the bell tolls, if you don’t have three relics, the Crater Fields will eat you alive. Not figuratively. Literally.”

  > “Now go! Make me proud. Or at least make me laugh.”

  > “Ohhh, yes, one more thing!” Balling’s voice purred across the island, playful and cruel. “You see those big, juicy beams of light stabbing the sky? Yes, yes — those are my treasures, the relics you need so desperately.”

  > “Notice the colours? Red, Yellow, and Green. Each beam belongs to a different pretty little prize. Red marks the Wailing Crown — mmm, a screaming little headpiece that loves to tell you things you don’t want to hear. Yellow belongs to the Blood Chalice — a thirsty cup that never stays full. And Green? Ahhh, that one marks the Mirror Blade — a weapon that shows you exactly how ugly you really are.”

  > “And here’s the fun part — the beams are on right now. Which means you can all see them. Which means so can everyone else. So if you want one… hah, you’ll have to sprint through this little playground and fight for it while the whole island watches.”

  > He paused, letting the tension settle before adding, “Oh, and don’t think you’ll be able to hide once you grab one. No, no, no. The second you claim a relic, the beam won’t disappear — it’ll cling to you. It’ll follow you like a loyal little pet, screaming to the world, ‘Come kill me, I’m delicious and worth three rounds of pain!’ Fun, right?”

  > “Now then… let’s see who among you is brave enough to paint themselves with death.”

  The beams of crimson light pulsed like heartbeats in the distance, their glow stretching across the entire island. The hunt hadn’t even begun, and yet every soul on the island could feel the weight of being prey and predator at once.

  ---

  Eryndor, Valerius, and Ziraiah stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed on the towering beams of light that split the sky.

  Valerius cracked a grin. “So… wanna work together?”

  Ziraiah shrugged, folding her arms. “Sure why not.”

  > “Challengers!” Balling’s voice thundered across the island. “On your mark—”

  Valerius turned his head to the left. Eliana stood a short distance away, her gaze already locked on his. Their eyes met — neither looking away.

  > “Get set—”

  Valerius flashed her a wide, confident smile.

  > “GO!”

  The island erupted.

  B O O M.

  Valerius and his siblings shot forward like living missiles, the ground shattering beneath their feet. Valerius sprinted with raw speed, each step detonating the earth.

  Ziraiah, however, didn’t move at all. She stood perfectly still, arms folded, smirking. Beneath her feet, the earth itself shifted — a flat platform of stone carrying her smoothly forward at high speed. Not a step taken, not a ripple disturbed.

  Valerius glanced at her. “What the…?”

  “Terramancy,” she said with a sly grin. “Cool, right?”

  Above them, Eryndor flew upright, hands in his pockets as though he had all the time in the world. He glanced down at Valerius, shaking his head with a faint smirk. "Such an inelegant mode of conveyance,"

  Valerius rolled his eyes. “Any plans?”

  “Grab three relics and make sure no one gets their hands on them,” Ziraiah replied casually.

  Valerius snorted. “You call that a plan?”

  “Any problem?”

  “Nope,” Valerius said, grinning. “Fine by me.”

  They accelerated, breaking the sound barrier in deafening booms as they cut across the Crater Fields.

  Ahead, the crimson beam of the Wailing Crown loomed larger and larger. Dozens of challengers were already converging on it from every direction — some sprinting, some flying, some leaping in long, monstrous arcs.

  “Looks like we’re going to have to fight for this one,” Valerius muttered.

  “Not inherently so,” Eryndor replied.

  He stretched his arms outward — then clapped.

  The ground groaned.

  BOOOOOOOM.

  A tsunami of land erupted around them, a 200-meter-high wall of earth that expanded outward like a living wave, swallowing challengers whole and sending others scrambling to retreat.

  With two fingers, Eryndor gestured upward.

  Directly in front of them, the ground surged. A massive pillar of earth erupted from the Crater Fields, wide enough to hold a house at its crown. In the center sat a simple stone dwelling — small, sturdy, unshakable.

  The pillar didn’t stop. It kept climbing. Higher. And higher. Until the earth’s jagged terrain below was nothing but a speck.

  Eryndor and Ziraiah flew upward toward their newly formed fortress.

  Valerius reached the base, crouched low, then launched himself vertically, his leap cracking the ground beneath. He ascended in a single, monstrous bound, eyes fixed on the barrier at the top.

  As he neared the crown, the earth dome sealing it peeled open just wide enough for him to enter. Valerius dove through, landing with a heavy thud inside the circular fortress.

  Eryndor and Ziraiah were already there, standing calmly.

  Floating in the center of the stone dwelling was a ball of crimson light — the relic’s resting form, pulsating like a living heart.

  Valerius placed his foot against the ground. Power rippled out, fortifying every inch of the massive pillar, sealing the barrier tighter than iron.

  Below, other challengers clawed at the pillar’s surface, trying to break through. Some tried to enter from the top — but the dome didn’t budge. After a while, they gave up, retreating toward the other beams.

  Eryndor glanced at his siblings. “Shall we?”

  The three of them advanced toward the pillar’s radiant core, its light pulsing like the heartbeat of some ancient titan.

  Beside it, a spirit waited — motionless, yet undeniably aware. Its form was fluid, like living mercury molded into the faint shape of a man. Two arms. Two legs. A face without mouth or nose. Only a pair of luminous eyes, unblinking and fathomless, stared back at them.

  When it spoke with a deep voice, the words reverberated directly in their minds, a soundless echo that bypassed the ears entirely:

  "Challengers… how will you claim this from me?"

  To be continued…