Warrior Training System

Evans strode forward, his long shaft held defensively in both hands, his eyes scanning the dense cloud of dust that obscured his path. Each step was deliberate, his posture tense and ready for any surprise attack. The heat and lingering tremors in the ground served as constant reminders of the devastation he was walking into.

The closer he got to the site of the teleportation gates, the thicker the dust became, stinging his eyes and throat. His Domain flared faintly around him, a protective layer of dark green energy that kept him alert and shielded from potential threats.
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As the dust began to thin slightly, revealing the devastation ahead, Evans froze. His jaw clenched as he took in the sight before him. Where the five massive teleportation gates had once stood, there were now five glowing blue portals, each the size of an average human. The shimmering energy within them flickered erratically, as though barely stable.

"Damn it!" Evans cursed, his voice echoing in the ruined clearing. He knew exactly what those portals represented—and how much they had cost. Each gate had been an investment of tens of thousands of gold coins, a fortune spent to ensure the success of their plans.

His grip on the shaft tightened as his anger bubbled over. The destruction of the gates wasn't just a setback; it was a financial and logistical disaster. Evans let out a frustrated growl, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of survivors or an explanation for what had gone so horribly wrong.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered under his breath, his mind racing to piece together what could have caused such catastrophic failure. He turned sharply, shouting into the still-settling dust, "Report! Someone tell me what the hell is going on here!"

But the only response was the eerie hum of the unstable portals and the distant crackle of lingering energy in the air.

As Evans stood there, seething and scanning the ruins, the glowing blue portals began to emit a low, ominous buzz. The sound grew louder and sharper, a mix of hums and erratic pops that set his nerves on edge. He instinctively shifted into a defensive stance, his grip tightening on the shaft as his Domain flared faintly around him.

Suddenly, with a sharp pop, a figure was violently ejected from one of the portals, landing with a thud on the ground. Before Evans could react, more figures began to spill out, each one tumbling onto the charred earth with groans of pain and disorientation.

From one of the piles of dust-covered bodies, a familiar voice groaned, "Fuck! I feel like my body was first squeezed and churned into powder, then reconstructed again from scratch!"

"Me too…" another voice muttered, sharing the sentiment, cutting through the tension. Evans, standing rigid, turned sharply toward the voice, trying to place its owner. As the dust settled further and faces became clearer, his eyes landed on a red-haired boy rising to his feet.

Evans's expression shifted to one of shock, his surprise mirrored on the boy's face. The boy's lips twisted into a sly smirk as he locked eyes with Evans. "Oh, Mr Head Examiner.. I was hoping to see you here," he said with mock cheerfulness.

Before Evans could respond, the boy suddenly vanished from his spot in a blur of speed. The next instant, his sword came slashing toward Evans.

Caught off guard but not unprepared, Evans reacted instinctively. His long shaft intercepted the blade with a sharp clang, sparks flying as the weapons clashed. The force of the attack pushed Evans back a step, his eyes narrowing with frustration.

"You dare?" Evans growled, his voice low and laced with anger. "How the hell did you get out of there?"

Cassian laughed, his red hair glinting in the eerie light of the still-glowing portals. His stance was casual, almost mocking, as he twirled his sword and took a step back, readying himself for another attack.

"Why would a dead man want to know that?" Cassian spat, his voice dripping with venom.

As he spoke, his dark red Domain erupted around him, releasing a suffocating wave of killing intent. The sheer intensity of it stunned everyone nearby, freezing them in place. For many, this was the first time they had ever felt such overwhelming bloodlust from Cassian.

Close to him stood the red-haired boy who had escaped the den of fairies, along with others who had managed the same. Their numbers were significant, and the sight of Cassian clashing with Evans immediately set them on edge. Without hesitation, they shifted into fighting stances, their expressions hardening as they prepared for battle.

Cassian didn't waste time. He launched a relentless flurry of attacks at Evans, each strike filled with fury and precision. Evans, though caught off guard by the intensity, held his ground. To Cassian's surprise, Evans was only a Third Circle Warrior—a strong one, no doubt, but far from invincible.

In another situation, Cassian might have avoided a direct confrontation, but his anger and the urgency of the moment left no room for hesitation. His voice rang out above the chaos, sharp and commanding.

"Everyone, run!" he shouted, his sword clashing violently against Evans's weapon. "I'll hold him here. Kill anyone who tries to stop you!"

Larick glanced at Amina, curious to see what she would do next. His expression quickly turned to one of shock as she suddenly lunged at him.

"Fuck! The clones made it out too!" he yelled, his voice laced with alarm.

His shout sent a ripple of tension through the group. Those who had managed to escape the den of fairies and were confirmed to be the real ones exchanged wary glances, suspicion flickering in their eyes. Trust was a fragile thing now, especially with the possibility of clones among them.

Meanwhile, Cassian was locked in a desperate struggle with Evans. Despite his relentless attacks, it was clear he was at a severe disadvantage. As a mere First Circle Warrior, he lacked the raw strength and stamina to go toe-to-toe with Evans for long. The only thing keeping him in the fight was the element of surprise and his willingness to push himself to the absolute limit.

"Damn it," Cassian growled under his breath, gritting his teeth as his blade clashed against Evans's. His strikes were fueled by sheer determination, but the strain was beginning to show.