Nova was in the guild infirmary, his eyes stinging from the light on the ceiling. The pain wasn't really sharp, just constant. Yesterday's chaos had left him drained and puzzled, and Draco's "gift," the core, still felt like it was in his veins, just ready to be unleashed. It was power, sure, but power that came with a price.

Nova sat on the edge of the bed, his fingertips pressing into his forehead, trying to steady his breathing. At his feet, the kittens purred, their tiny bodies grounding him more than any potion could. Elesch stood close by, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, eyes sharp and steady.

"You still look like you wrestled a bear and lost," Zane said from across the room, towel around his neck. He'd just finished warming up, his movements still "delayed." He absorbed a yellow mana crystal.

Michael laughed quietly beside him, frost gathering on his fingertips. "He's not wrong."

Nova smirked, though it tugged at his headache. "Feels about right. At least I didn't summon one this time." His joke fell flat, but Adam chuckled anyway from his spot near the wall.

The door opened, and Marcus walked in. The room shifted instantly. His coat moved like a living shadow, his face calm but hard, eyes darker than usual. The tablet in his hand glowed with guild stats, but his attention went straight to Nova.

"Report," Marcus said, dragging a chair across the tile.

Nova sat up straighter, wincing at the movement. "Still got the migraine, but I'm functional.

Elesch added, "I swear if I ever see that guy again, I'll kill him. We also need to be more careful now, the Shadow Circuit knows the guild from the inside out."

Marcus's jaw flexed. Then he said, "He'll show himself again. But for now, we move forward." He tapped the tablet, and a hologram of the arena appeared above it. "Stage Three: The Trials. The Trails are sin-themed. Each around adapts to our strengths and flaws. So, there cannot be any more lone heroes, got it?"

His eyes lingered on the empty spots in the room: Col, Emma, Galileo, Trevor. The failed resurrection attempt had come seven minutes too late.

"We honor them by winning," Marcus said firmly. "Do your best and only your best. You are now in the top twenty; you cannot falter anymore. Remove that concept from your mind. Win and only win."

The team nodded. Adam cracked his knuckles, his voice low. "I feel bad for Trevor. Even though he looked up to James, getting killed by him is just not right."

Zane clapped his shoulder. "We'll get through it. First to the end, yeah?"

Nova stood, the headache soothing as purpose took over. Marcus led them through drills, mana syncs, breathing exercises, and Pillar cycles. He visualized the shards of energy inside him, not as invaders, but as allies. Breathe in chaos. Exhale control.

One kitten batted at his boot. He smiled, faintly. "Guess I'm doing alright."

By 8:45, their gear was checked and ready. They walked together to the guild lobby. The portal waited, the swirling blue vortex waiting patiently.

Marcus clapped Nova's shoulder. "Eyes open. Come back whole."

The five stepped through at 8:50 sharp.

This time, the transition was smooth. No crash landings, no spinning fall. Just the feeling of being gently set down on obsidian floors.

The Colosseum stretched around them, massive. Spectators filled the stands, banners glowing with the crests of twenty surviving guilds.

Nova squinted against the lights, scanning the crowd. Across the arena stood the South Korean Guild, their crimson armor gleaming. Kai, their leader, caught Nova's gaze and gave a small nod. A quiet understanding passed between them: respect, not rivalry.

To their left, the British Guild stood in neat formation, green-trimmed armor polished to perfection. Their tank, the same brute from yesterday, flexed and glared at Nova. His bruised shoulder throbbed at the memory.

The Indian Guild stood next, their saffron robes flickering with illusion spells that shimmered like heat waves. Their leader, a slim woman with sharp eyes, whispered tactics to her squad. Nova marked them as serious contenders.

Then came the Australians, leaning against the rail like they had nowhere better to be. Sun-baked armor, boomerang blades, and that ridiculous koala emblem. Their leader, Jax, caught Nova's eye and lifted a thumb. A challenge or a compliment, it was hard to tell.

Nova leaned toward Zane. "The Aussies look ready to start trouble. Have you ever heard about the Great Emu War?"

Zane blinked. "The what?"

"They lost a war to birds," Nova said, deadpan. "Big ones. Emus."

Zane snorted, remembering reading about it. Michael choked back a laugh, also remembering. Even Elesch cracked a smile. Adam shook his head, half amused. The joke didn't solve anything, but it cut through the tension.

Then, there was the deafening silence.

The center of the arena lit up, and a giant hologram appeared, an oracle figure made of swirling light. Its voice rolled across the stadium, deep and clear.

"Survivors! Twenty nations stand. But true worth is proven only through the fire of trial. Welcome to Stage Three: The Trials. Here, sins shape your path, and your strength will define your survival. Each guild must divide its champions, ten or fewer, across five sacred paths. Two per trial. Fail to fill your ranks, and your shadows will stand in your place."

The hologram split into five glowing images:

Wrath: A fiery coliseum. "One-on-one battles. Pure strength and will. Strike fast, or fall."

Greed: A dark dungeon filled with beasts. "Race to the heart. Gather the cores. Hoard the prize."

Pride: A raised platform, shining like glass. "The leaders' crucible. One stands as the face of the guild. The other guards have their backs."

Envy: A room of mirrors. "Face your own shadow. Conquer your reflection, or be consumed."

Sloth: A fog-covered field. "Endure the drain. Survive the stillness. Outlast the fade."

The crowd roared. Billions were watching through streams and screens around the world. Nova's migraine returned, sharp and insistent, but his mind kept working. Who to send where? With only five of them left, substitutions would strain their minds, but they had no choice.

Across the arena, Kai met his eyes again. His expression asked a silent question: Your move?

The British team huddled, whispering strategies. The Indians adjusted their runes. The Australians stretched, smirking.

The oracle's voice rose once more. "Guilds, your paths await. Choose your trials. The sins will reward the bold and devour the weak. Selection begins in three… two… one."

The arena vibrated with tension as teams drew close, whispering names and orders.

Nova exhaled slowly. The pain faded, replaced by focus.

Wrath, Greed, Pride, Envy, Sloth, five trials. Five sins. Five chances to prove they still belonged here.

He looked at his team. "Alright," he said quietly. "Let's pick our poison."

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