Across the skies of Yilheim, dozens of Wavers cut through the clouds in sleek formation, all heading toward the same distant point on the horizon. Plunder Island.
It came into view gradually, then all at once—a titanic landmass looming over the ocean, impossibly circular in shape, stretching 2,300 kilometers across. From above, it resembled a god’s eye carved into the sea. Storms coiled over its center like a swirling iris, and glowing rivers ran like veins through the jungle heartlands. Craggy mountain ranges cut through its edges like the ribs of a beast, and above it all, shards of land floated—untethered islands suspended by ancient magic.
From every angle, it whispered challenge.
One by one, Wavers began descending. Some touched down along a calm crescent of beach now known as the Arrival Shore—a deceptively serene coastline watched over by towering monoliths etched with forgotten runes. Others veered toward separate drop zones across the island, each zone welcoming—or testing—their contestants differently.
A massive Waver kissed the sand. The ramp hissed open. Eryndor and his team stepped out into the salt-laced air, eyes adjusting to the surreal sky. The Sun was bright, an inverted rainbow glimmered faintly overhead, and distant lightning danced across the inner horizon.
Suddenly, from above—a figure floated down, arms spread like a prophet.
Balling.
Standing atop a smooth, circular platform that hovered as if alive, his voice boomed across the beach and echoed across Seers tuned to every zone of the island:
> “WELCOME, CHALLENGERS!
This… is PLUNDER ISLAND—
The crucible where you will stake your lives…
for the chance to seize legendary artifacts!
May your will be strong, and your death not in vain!”
His cloak billowed as the crowd looked on in stunned silence.
And then—
BOOOOOOM.
A thunderous explosion cracked through the sky.
From the heavens, something was falling—no, someone.
---
A Few Minutes Earlier – Giant Village
Valerius stood at the edge of the cliff, sunlight flickering across his face. He wore rugged brown adventure trousers riddled with reinforced pockets and a sleek black top that clung to his frame. Slung across his back was a compact spatial bag, the straps tightened and ready. A curved blade rested at his side—Beverik’s final gift, forged from the giant's own flame-bound steel.
“Alright,” Valerius exhaled. “I’m ready.”
Esky stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come back to us. No matter what.”
He nodded. “I will.”
Behind her, Sikovik—towering even among giants—lifted Valerius into his palm. Beverik shouted directions from afar:
“Sixty-degree angle! Use the jet-throw form! You must hit the marker—he has to pass through the targeting gate to hit the island’s trajectory window!”
A massive wooden framework stood a few hundred meters away. It had one narrow gap in the center—barely Valerius’s size. It was the final gate before atmospheric entry.
Sikovik grinned, stomped his foot into the earth, twisted his torso—and launched.
The sonic boom shattered the sky.
Valerius became a blur, slicing through the air at nearly Mach 3000, wind screaming past his ears. He pierced the targeting gate with perfect precision, then soared past the crimson haze of the Rift’s clouds. For the first time in three years… he saw the blue sky of the outer world.
He smiled, hair whipping behind him, the curveblade humming faintly by his side.
Then—
thooom—he passed through an invisible veil.
“...What the—?”
He twisted mid-air, looking back—but the rift was gone. Only the sky remained. Then he faced forward again… and saw it:
Plunder Island.
Majestic. Terrifying. Alive.
He reached out, grabbing at something invisible in the air It caught him, slowed his velocity into a spiraling arc.
He descended like a comet.
BAAAAAAAAM.
Valerius struck the beach like a meteor, the sand exploding outward. A shockwave rippled through the Arrival Shore—blowing hats, cloaks, and even a few smaller challengers off their feet. Dozens shielded their eyes as dust filled the air.
Silence followed.
All eyes turned to the impact site.
The crater hissed with heat.
And then—from the smoke—Valerius stepped out, unburnt, eyes sharp, sword at his side.
---
Valerius stood in the shallow crater he had carved into the sand, steam rising from his clothes. The air crackled faintly around him—an invisible force reacting to his presence. As he stepped out onto the beach, he glanced around. He was not alone.
Hundreds of others had landed in similar fashion, across other beaches and drop zones. Elves, dwarves, reliards, dragoons, pesterios, lycans, half-beasts, and more. All races. All power levels. All strangers. Among all these towering races, there was one human. The convergence had truly begun.
Valerius looked up and saw the floating disk above. Balling was still suspended there, hovering above the crowd like a god making proclamation. His voice echoed not just from his mouth—but from every Seer, every waver, and every major zone of the island. Every Seer on Yilheim. It was time.
Balling’s smile vanished. His expression became serious.
He raised a hand, and spoke.
> "LISTEN CLOSELY, CHALLENGERS.
The rules I am about to explain are not suggestions.
They are laws set by forces older than your nations.
This is not merely a contest...
This is the Convergence Trials."
Murmurs broke out. Valerius squinted, interested.
Balling's voice now deepened—amplified by a certain ability.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
---
"THE CONVERGENCE TRIALS — A TEST OF CHAMPIONS."
“Plunder Island was not made by mortals.
Like Mazorik, it was shaped by a forgotten god—
To test the might of the world’s boldest.
Every hundred years, the trials call upon warriors, mages, and dreamers alike.”
His platform rose higher, his voice now touching every part of the island.
---
"THE ISLAND IS DIVIDED INTO SIX ZONES."
He gestured. Above him, glowing golden illusions formed in the sky—rotating around him like a divine map.
"ZONE ONE: The Arrival Shore — here. Calm, but deceptive.
Beware illusions and trials of memory. Not all battles are won with swords.
ZONE TWO: The Jungle of Mawak — time flows differently there.
The plants speak. Some kill. Some listen.
ZONE THREE: Obsidian Cliffs of Trialfall — climb if you dare.
The higher you go, the heavier you become.
Lightning strikes only the strong.
ZONE FOUR: The Crater Fields — land of echoes and ghosts.
Enter a crater, and you may face a vision of a warrior long dead.
Win, and a fragment of their legacy becomes yours.
ZONE FIVE: The Eye of Plunder — the great storm.
At its heart floats the Aether Crucible. Only the final few will reach it.
ZONE SIX: The Valley of Sealed Kings — tread lightly.
Stone giants sleep beneath your feet. Some… may wake."
---
"THE FORMAT OF THE COMPETITION IS AS FOLLOWS."
Balling now floated lower again. Every eye was on him.
"PHASE ONE: The Culling Run
You will be scattered into random zones.
You must reach the Eye of Plunder within the time limit.
Survive the beasts. Outsmart the traps.
Only 40% of you will make it. The rest... eliminated.
PHASE TWO: Domain Duels
One-on-one battles in living elemental arenas.
Each zone has its will. If you show weakness, it will devour you.
PHASE THREE: Relic Hunt
Hidden artifacts guarded by spirits await.
Gather three, or steal them from others.
Trust will be a blade to the back.
PHASE FOUR: War Game
One hundred remain. Ten teams.
A full-scale battlefield simulation—
With real monsters. Real injuries. Real death.
Only five teams will earn the right to ascend.
FINAL PHASE: The Ascension Clash
A floating arena. Layered, unstable, violent.
No allies. No mercy. No second chances.
The last one standing earns the Plunder Sigil—
The gods’ mark of recognition.”
---
Balling let his words hang.
Then added one final warning:
"If you try to flee before the tournament ends…
The island will curse you.
Your strength will wither. Your gifts will die.
Only those who finish what they start may walk away free."
He lowered his hand. The golden map above him vanished in sparks.
Then he smiled again.
“Good luck, challengers.
The island… is watching.”
And with that, he vanished in a blink.
---
Around Valerius, the other contestants were murmuring. Some strategized. Others stared off at the sky.
Valerius turned his head slightly. He didn’t even know his siblings were there… but somewhere on this god-forged island, they were watching too.
He cracked his knuckles and said quietly:
“Then let’s begin.”
---
Ziraiah folded her arms.
“Looks like there’s no turning back now, huh?”
Eryndor inclined his head with solemn gravity. “We must remain aligned—regardless of what transpires.”
Across the beach, the crowd swelled—hundreds of elite challengers in every shape, size, and race. The atmosphere was thick with tension and wonder. Among them, scattered like seeds before a storm, stood legends and prodigies alike.
Near Valerius, two figures stood out.
Eliana, radiant and calm, watched the horizon.
Beside her, Maloi adjusted her gloves.
Elsewhere in the throng, Kaelan and Elsa were stretching, checking their gear.
Ziraiah nudged Juvian, gesturing with her chin toward a solitary figure standing apart from the crowd.
“That guy... Is he really going to be okay?”
“Who?” Juvian followed her gaze.
“That human over there.”
Juvian tilted his head. “Human? What race is that?”
Ziraiah had already begun walking away.
“Hey!” Juvian called. “He’s not your problem!”
She approached from behind, her shadow stretching over the stranger’s smaller frame. The boy didn’t turn around. He stood just under six feet tall, blond-haired, silver-eyed, with tanned skin and a quiet arrogance in his stance.
“I don’t like people looking down on me,” he said without turning.
Ziraiah arched a brow. “What am I supposed to do? You’re small.”
Then she added, “Do you want to join us?”
The young man turned slowly. His eyes traveled up—briefly stopping at her boots.
“And why,” he said flatly, “would I do that?”
Ziraiah frowned. “Hey. My eyes are up here.”
“I know,” he replied, still not looking up. “But do you really expect me to look up to someone inferior to me?”
Ziraiah blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t believe I stuttered, did I?”
Ziraiah rolled her eyes and turned. “You know what? I don’t blame you. I blame myself. Since you’re a human, I thought you might need help.”
She began to walk away.
But the boy’s voice came again. Quieter this time.
“How do you know that word?”
Ziraiah paused. “…What word?”
“You called me human.” He said without looking up. “Why didn’t you say Earther?”
“Because you’re human,” she said simply.
The boy’s gaze sharpened. “So you won’t tell me… fine. I’ll get my answers eventually. I’ll be watching you.”
Ziraiah sighed. “Alright, ease up on the attitude. I’m trying to help here.”
The boy tilted his back backward—not out of humility, but so he wouldn’t have to raise his head and look up. He was trying to maintain dignity, posture, pride. But when his eyes finally reached hers—
—his jaw slackened.
For a moment, all that defiance crumbled. His expression shifted from aloof confidence to stunned awe, as if someone had just shown him the moon for the first time.
He stood upright.
“…Pardon my rudeness,” he said suddenly. He stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed it with old-world formality. “I am Valtos.”
Ziraiah blinked. “Whoa. You just did a full one-eighty.”
“You said we should work together, right? Then let’s do that.”
She led him back toward her team.
“Everyone, this is Valtos. Valtos—Eryndor, Juvian, and Isabela.”
Juvian eyed him. “Who’s he?”
Ziraiah shrugged. “One more teammate wouldn’t hurt, right?”
---
A short distance away, Valerius was surveying the shoreline when someone bumped into his back. He turned sharply—and froze.
“Elsa?” he breathed.
The woman blinked, confused. “Uhh… who are you?”
Valerius stepped back. “You don’t remember me? It’s me—Lerius. You saved my life, remember?”
Her eyes widened. She clutched her mouth. “Oh my God. Lerius. Look at you… You’re so… big.”
Behind her, a familiar voice rang out.
“Well I’ll be damned,” said Kaelan, grinning wide. “If it isn’t the little Earther. Well, not so little now.”
Valerius grinned and rushed forward. “Kaelan!”
They embraced like long-lost brothers.
“So you haven’t forgotten me, have you?” Kaelan said, slapping his back.
“How could I forget the first person I ever met in this world?” Valerius replied.
Elsa stepped back, still staring. “How can someone grow so much in three years?”
Valerius chuckled. “Three months, actually. Turns out, there was a reason we were small. I’ll explain later.”
Kaelan raised an eyebrow. “And what brings you here?”
“Why else?” Valerius said, folding his arms. “The prizes, of course.”
Not far away, Eliana was watching him from a distance. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Maloi noticed and leaned closer. “Who are you looking at?”
Eliana didn’t answer immediately.
“…He looks so familiar,” she murmured.
---
Suddenly, Balling’s voice boomed through the skies once again:
"GET READY, CHALLENGERS.
THE CULLING RUN BEGINS IN…
10.
9.
8.
7.
6.
5.
4.
3.
2.
1…
GO!!!**"
The ground shook with the thunder of hundreds of footsteps as the crowd surged forward.
Eryndor, Ziraiah, Valtos, Juvian, and Isabela sprinted toward the jungle line.
Valerius cracked his neck with a sharp pop and smirked.
“Try not to lag behind, Kaelan.”
Kaelan raised an eyebrow, amused.
“Look who’s talking. Did you forget how helpless you were back then?”
Valerius flashed a grin. “Then Kaelan...then.”
And with that—he blasted forward like a missile, tearing across the beach in a blur of momentum and dust.
The Convergence Trials had begun.
---
To Be Continued...
