Ascension of the Forsaken Genius

A low tremor rumbled through the ground. Leaves rustled, disturbed by something far more ominous than the wind. The participants—some resting, some tending to wounds—froze. A deep, guttural growl echoed through the trees. Then another. And another.

The forest came alive with movement. Shadows slithered between the dense foliage, accompanied by the unmistakable gleam of hungry eyes. The trial was not over. The real hunt was about to begin.

A piercing howl cut through the air.

Then the wave descended.

From the treeline, a swarm of beasts surged forward like a living tide. Wolves with obsidian fur and crimson eyes led the charge, their snarls promising a violent end. Behind them, hulking bear-like creatures with jagged bone protrusions trampled the undergrowth. Above, winged predators circled, shrieking in anticipation of the slaughter.

Panic took hold.

Some ran immediately, relying on instinct over strategy. Others held their ground, weapons drawn, hoping to cut a path through. The sound of steel clashing against claws and roars of pain and fury filled the battlefield.

A participant in the front was too slow. A wolf lunged, sinking its fangs into his shoulder. He screamed, but it was drowned out as more of the pack descended on him. Within moments, he was gone.

There was no time to mourn, no time to help. The beasts were endless.

A group of participants banded together, forming a defensive line. Spells and attacks rained down on the advancing creatures. Fire erupted from a staff, incinerating the front line of wolves, but more replaced them within seconds.

"Move! There's no stopping them!" someone shouted.

The truth was clear—they could not win this fight.

A few of the more observant fighters had already realized this. The beasts were herding them, driving them in a single direction. Whether it was by design or by chance, they had no choice but to follow the only path not blocked by monsters.

Then, it appeared.

Like an illusion taking form, a massive tower rose in the distance. The air around it shimmered, distorting reality itself. At its base, a set of colossal doors stood open, casting an eerie glow onto the battlefield.

"The tower!" someone shouted. "It's the final trial!"

Hope and desperation clashed. The participants raced toward the structure, some cutting down anything in their way, others relying on speed alone.

The beasts did not stop. If anything, they grew fiercer. The moment the tower was in sight, the creatures seemed to double their efforts, as if trying to keep them from reaching it.

A panicked fighter tripped, scrambling to get back up as a massive beast loomed over him. He never stood a chance. Blood splattered the ground. His scream was swallowed by the chaos.

Another was grabbed mid-run, lifted into the air by a winged predator. His frantic struggles ended when the beast crushed his body between its talons. The tower was close, but not all would reach it.

The entrance loomed ahead. The first survivors broke through, collapsing in exhaustion as they passed the threshold.

More followed, their bodies bloodied but still moving.

The beasts closed in. The remaining participants could feel the hot breath of their pursuers on their backs. It was a mad dash, survival dictated by mere seconds.

Then—the doors began to close.

With one final push, the last survivors threw themselves inside.

As the heavy doors slammed shut, cutting off the outside world, the roars of the beasts were muffled. The pounding against the entrance gradually faded.

Silence.

The survivors—just over two hundred—lay sprawled across the tower’s vast entrance hall, gasping for breath.

The beast wave was over.

But as they looked up, taking in the massive chamber, the reality settled in. They had escaped one nightmare only to step into another.

Ahead of them, the tower pulsed with an unseen energy, its depths shrouded in mystery.

The final trial had begun.