Patrons cheered, screaming for blood when they heard Jason’s request to fight other heroes.

Just listening to it made Sara sick.

The Golden Trial was a savage event where adventurers maimed and killed each other for patrons’ money.

It was an extravagant waste of talent where the second strongest, a valuable asset to the kingdom, would die needlessly in exchange for resources that they both could’ve used.

It was a tragedy, spurred on by pugnacious men and women who wanted to be amused before they considered their own degree of benevolence.

Now, these freakish people were proving that they would forsake their kingdom by killing its heroes just to revel in an epic spectacle of death and humiliation.

Aelia turned to King Escar and then back to the patrons.

“Once again, each one of these heroes is an invaluable asset.

We cannot afford to let any of them get seriously injured so early in their training.” Her words dampened the enthusiasm like someone put a lid on a pan of bacon.

But it was burning and starting to smoke.

“At least ask who he wants to fight!” a patron yelled.

Aelia looked at Sara and then back to King Escar, wearing a face that said, Don’t allow it.

She knew better than anyone that Sara would break Jason.

King Escar put up his hand to obtain silence.

“While I do not plan to allow the heroes to injure each other, I am curious why he wishes to do so.” Aelia’s grim expression made Jason realize he had gone too far, and regret was etched on his face.

He looked like an alcoholic who hit someone, only to wake up a moment later, realizing and regretting what they had done.

Aelia turned to him.

“You have an audience.” “I was just…” Jason swallowed hard, trembling from the humiliation, “… curious, but it seems that it was an unwise decision.” Patrons started snickering, and Aelia studied his expressions.

“The question was why.

Surely you had more reason than that.” He winced, turning to Sara to gauge his odds.

She glared at him, and he quickly looked away.

“I just thought some would like to prove themselves against their peers if they wished to.” “And you wish to do that?” “If there was someone else who wished to, then yes,” Jason said.

“In a controlled manner, of course,” he added quickly.

“As you and King Escar have noted, we don’t want serious injuries.” His cocktailing threw fuel on the fire, and the patrons exchanged grins.

Aelia couldn’t help but join in, chuckling as she gazed at the other heroes.

“Is there anyone who wishes to test their strength against Lord Newborn?” No one spoke up, making Jason’s eyes widen with hope.

If no one challenged him, it would give the perception he was the best.

Unfortunately for him, nothing would make Sara happier.

Showcasing her true power against a real opponent would humiliate him more than a direct victory ever could.

Aelia’s eyes landed on Sara.

“Do you, Lady Reece?” Sara’s expression didn’t change.

“I’m willing, so long as it’s no holds barred.” Jason gulped.

“That’s out of the question,” Aelia said.

“Then I don’t,” Sara replied.

“I’d rather demonstrate my full potential, and I won’t be able to do that if I spend the whole fight handling Jason with kid gloves.” Her words detonated the crowd, making the patrons yell statements like, Now I have to see it happen, and, Make her back up her words! Jason’s nose scrunched in, and he dug his metal-tipped boot into the dirt, rubbing it back and forth until the dry earth cracked and gave way.

“That’s a bold statement coming from someone without armor or a sword.” Sara snorted.

“If you agree to no holds barred, I’ll fight you bare-handed and spell-less.” She turned to him with a chilling gaze.

“Though, I’ll warn you, Jason.

If you agree, you’ll be on bed rest for two months with broken legs.

I’m being dead serious.

I’ll break them so hard that even magic won’t set them correctly.” Sara wasn’t bluffing.

If they fought, one of his legs would be permanently mangled from her first strike.

The second one would follow if they didn’t stop her.

Jason grimaced, listening to the howling patrons raging like a pack of wild mongrels.

He could tell she was serious, but for a narcissist, reputation is everything, and if he backed down when someone offered to fight him without armor, weapons, or spells, it would haunt him forever.

Sara found it tragic.

Jason opened his mouth hesitantly.

“If you seriously think you can win without—“ Suddenly, the arena’s gates clanged open, and Edico Sullsburg rushed into view, sweat dripping from his face like melting icicles.

“Don’t….

Those….

two….” His breaths were labored, proof of riding at full speed non-stop for hours on end, only to find that he couldn’t catch up to Sara no matter how hard he tried.

“Those two are… this kingdom’s trump cards.

We can’t….

We can’t let them fight amongst themselves.” A collective groan escaped the lips of every prominent member of the Escaran Kingdom, but King Escar put up his hand.

“As I stated, I wouldn’t let them fight.

I was merely curious about his reasoning.

Though perhaps it would ease our guest’s minds if they knew who they would be tested against.” Aelia nodded.

“Lord Newborn is slated to fight against Markine Vallas, a Rank 3 adventurer.

He’s a skilled swordsman and has experience fighting fast beasts with raw force, making him a perfect counterforce for Lord Newborn.” “And Lady Reece?” King Escar asked.

“Me….” Edico answered, taking deep, heavy breaths as he looked up.

“Things have changed.

Her opponent will be me.” 2 Edico’s announcement created a major stir.

While he looked disgraceful, dry heaving on the ground, he was the ex-general of the Escaran Army and the head of the King’s Royal Guard.

Hearing that Sara would be fighting him was a breath of adrenaline, quickening the pulse of everyone present.

Sara was most excited of all.

Edico became her teacher after she killed Jason and obtained Qualth, and she had never won a battle against him.

By the time she had the skill to slay Agronus, Edico was long dead, laid to rest in the battle to dethrone Mary.

Now, she had a serious chance to fight him again—to test whether she really improved or if her advantages as a hero were the only reason she could win.

“I accept,” Sara said unprompted.

The patrons went wild and demanded the Trial begin at once.

After all, she was fighting last.

3 The excitement for Sara’s fight was a blessing for most of the heroes.

The patrons were barely paying attention when Tara refused to do anything but block and were discussing share rights when Will got his ass handed to him by a low-ranking adventurer.

It was a mercy.

Despite having immense potential, the heroes were like freshmen joining the high school baseball team.

The child athletes did better than the recent recruits, but they all ultimately sucked.

The only difference was that the heroes were like protagonists in a dystopian novel where everyone suddenly got superpowers and went to school to learn how to control them.

It wasn’t anything so grand.

No one was running around shooting laser beams from their eyes or turning invisible.

They were just normal kids with way, way too much power.

But it was significant.

During Jeb’s match, the delinquent struck an adventurer’s sword like it was a baseball, using his own sword as a bat.

The adventurer’s blade was cut in two and got a large gash on his chest as the metal went flying.

Jeb thought he did pretty well until the excess momentum sent him hurdling to the ground.

He landed wrong and broke his arm.

The patrons cheered.

The same thing happened to half a dozen heroes who accidentally won from freakish strength, sending people flying, cutting through swords, or just releasing a bad attack.

Aelia intervened with a few because they were going to hurt themselves.

The remaining refused to fight.

In short, it was a spectacle rather than a trial.

Sara watched with boredom, waiting for the people who mattered.

Emma was one of them, and she stole the show in Sara’s eyes.

Like last time, Emma released barrier spells to ward off the adventurer, but this time, she accidentally released a tiny fireball into his right eye instead of his armor.

She freaked out and dropped her staff, running to him.

He said, What are you doing?! I’m your enemy! and she replied, No, you’re my test proctor, and you’re blind because I suck at magic! Now sit down.

I’ll try to heal you! The man was so bewildered by the laughing crowd that he actually did, sitting down as she worked her healing magic! Healing magic wasn’t a miracle.

It mended wounds, reattaching skin, muscles, and organs, but it didn’t replace them.

However, Emma’s father was a doctor, and she knew what to do.

So, while healing usually wouldn’t save someone’s eyes, she caught the wound fast, and the on-site medical mage said that he’d make a full recovery.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road.

If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.The crowd went wild.

Daniel was next, and he was unremarkable.

His acne had disappeared, and he had a bit of muscle, demonstrating proficient use of swordplay.

Sara watched him closely.

There was a massive difference between the Daniel Winters from yesteryear and the one at present, but the swordplay was genuinely elementary, frustrated, and unpracticed.

It was clear that he was fated to never use a sword.

Still, his performance was significant, and she studied his minor changes until the end.

He lost.

By contrast, Brandon Torres had changed a lot—too much.

He was a modern pariah forged by the dark side of technology, someone who hacked servers and traded cryptocurrency between Pornhub sessions.

Exceptionally bright, he was famous for shutting down their middle school's internet system just to get out of writing essays.

He was a menace, but he had a lucrative career in cyber security awaiting him.

It didn't surprise Sara in the slightest that Brandon became a successful mage in her last life—

—but she was surprised now.

Brandon's body had slimmed down 30 pounds from a body constitution that he had been cultivating out of the blue, and she had seen him practicing arrays in secret.

Contrary to Jason's open beliefs, Sara had been investigating Brandon thoroughly since his abrupt change, abusing her relationship with King Escar to keep tabs on his activities and questions.

His core was also well settled, as strong as Raul’s.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

Brandon walked into the ring, casting awkward smiles at some of the females, who immediately looked away.

He frowned at that but then strutted to the center and started playing in the sand with his toe while he waited.

He didn’t stop when Aelia introduced him or his opponent, a young adventurer named Tamond with sandy brown hair in yellow accented armor.

“Hey, teach.

Why’d you place me with the noob?” Brandon asked.

“Sara’s got The General.

This guy doesn’t even look like a ranker.” Tamond’s face flushed red with anger, and he grabbed his sword.

“Yo.

Calm down, guy.

It’s not like it’s personal.

I just want an opponent that can actually hit me.

I could stand right here and defeat you.” Brandon pointed to where he was standing.

“You understand I don’t have to hold back, right?” Tamond asked.

Brandon snorted.

“So he’s retarded, too.

So much for showing off my potential.” “Start the countdown,” Tamond said to Aelia, getting into a running stance with his hand on his sword.

Aelia shrugged.

“You may begin in three….

Two… one….

Begin!” Tamond blitzed across the arena with impressive speed.

Brandon was startled and tripped backward on his butt, making Tamond grin as he closed the distance.

Just as he was going to swing the blunt edge of the sword into the cocky prick’s shoulder, a blinding flash came from below his feet, and Tamond’s body froze, leaving his arms in the air like someone froze time.

Brandon laughed and got up, brushing dirt off his butt, cracking his neck as he casually meandered over to the adventurer.

Sara’s classmates were stunned, whispering as excitement mounted in the stands.

The patrons went wild.“People like you are so predictable,” Brandon boasted, standing in front of the adventurer and touching his sword.

“Take one swing at their fragile little egos, and they’ll fall apart like idiots.” “You set this up before the match!” Tamond yelled.

“That’s against the rules!” Brandon put his hand up to his ear, listening for Aelia or anyone else to call him out.

“Anyone? No, I didn’t think so.

Do you want to know why I know it’s within the rules? I’ll tell you if you ask nicely.” He leaned forward, not caring if Tamond asked or anyone cared.

“It’s because I listened to the rules.

And you? You didn’t even notice me drawing an array in broad daylight.

What were you doing? Thinking about how you were going to swing that like a virgin’s ‘sword?’” Tamond scoffed.

“You’re a coward.” “No.

I’m alive.

You’re my enemy, and—“ Brandon punched him in the face with a sickening crack.

“—you’re dead.” Tamond groaned, blood running between the cracks in his teeth.

“Well, not actually dead.” Brandon hit him again, harder this time.

“I can’t intentionally kill you.

But unless you surrender like a little bitch, I’m going to bring you to the limit.” He hit him in the eye.

The female heroes gasped.

Emily started crying, and many started yelling of the sound of cheering patrons, Stop, you freak! Brandon stopped and turned to them.

“This man’s my enemy, and I don’t spare my enemies.” He crunched his fist into Tamond’s nose.

Sara felt a raging desire to break Brandon’s spine on the spot.

There was a time and place for such beliefs.

She didn’t spare people who tried to kill her.

War was tragic.

Everyone thought they were right, fighting for justice.

And ultimately, neither side was just, they were just killing each other because they had physical, economic, and psychological incentives to do so.

The moment someone picked up a sword, and you picked up yours, you needed to put that person down like a rabid dog.

If you’re unwilling to do that, you shouldn’t have picked up a sword to begin with.

That’s the cost of war.

But this wasn’t war, and his opponent wasn’t an “enemy”—he was a proctor for a mock trial.

Yet he applied that mentality to it as if he were slapping a cigarette cancer warning on a bottle of water.

It made a mockery of her life’s tragedies.

The patrons cheered on.Sara closed her eyes when Brandon broke the adventurer’s jaw, making it impossible for the man to concede.

At that point, the outcry from the heroes was so severe that Brandon got pissed and hit the adventurer in the head, knocking him out.

“Winner: Lord Torres,” Aelia said dryly.

Brandon looked up and saw the patrons cheering for him.

But the students were deathly quiet, like fog creeping out of a nighttime forest, and none would look at him.

And at that moment, it looked like a knot popped in the back of his brain.

“What is wrong with you all? This isn’t school.

We’re fighting demons, for fuck’s sake! Grow up and adapt or die.” He strode back into his position.

Raul didn’t look at him when he returned.

“What?” Brandon asked sharply.

“Nothing, man,” Raul said.

“Nothing at all.” “You’re the worst of ‘em, you know that? You’re the nice guy.

Finding the good in everyone.

But your true viewpoints are clear as day.” “Have you considered that that’s the point? You don’t have to be an asshole to get your point across?” “Call me an asshole again, and you’ll regret it.” Raul turned to him.

“I’m next.

Do you want to ‘volunteer’ to be my enemy?” Brandon fell silent.

“I thought so,” Raul said, picking up his axe and walking into the arena.

Five minutes later, the match began, and he proved how badly Brandon would’ve gotten murdered if they were opponents.

The first thing he did was slash the dirt with his axe, creating a thirty-foot gash from him to his opponent, and then side-swiped with a minor wind spell to create a dust storm.

Arrays would’ve been worthless.

The match was brief, a total of five minutes, and Raul lost.

He was facing a stent, an elite troop of the Escaran Military, and his opponent was of a different caliber than the one Brandon had faced.

Despite his loss, the entire amphitheater, from the heroes to the patrons, was cheering wildly at the good fight, and his opponent helped him up.

Brandon wasn’t the only one bent out of shape by his reception.

Jason, who had been trembling in rage like a water glass in a minor earthquake, finally snapped at the praise that Raul was getting.

When Sara saw his jealousy, her anger flared up, too.

After Jason hit Raul in their last life, the two permanently “broke up” as friends.

When that happened, Jason, who was delusional due to his status and power, realized for the first time that Raul and Emma were the reason that people loved the Hero’s Party.

Once they were gone, Jason’s popularity plummeted, and his jealousy eventually led him to execute Raul under the pretext of rooting out treason and betrayal.

To his credit, Jason truly believed that Raul betrayed him.

Not that such credit made anything better.

In fact, it made it worse—so, so much worse.

“Lord Newborn, please enter the arena,” Aelia said.

Jason turned to Sara.

“Watch.” “Oh, I will,” Sara replied.

“I wish I had a video camera.” She said exactly what he wanted to hear, but with a twang that implied that his opponent was going to wear his lungs like a hat, and it would hit twenty million views on YouTube.

Jason’s body spasmed as if it had prepared to hit her, but his mind took over at the last second.

“Just watch,” he said coldly.

“You’ll see.” With those words, he walked into the arena.