CHAPTER 163: THE ONES WHO REMAIN

The arena floor had begun to crack. Not from one fight, but from hundreds. Blades had scored deep lines across the earth. Fire had blackened its edges. Blood, ash, and glass shimmered like scattered rain under the arena’s flickering dome.

Jin sat quietly in his suspended glass prism, arms crossed, eyes unblinking.

Another match ended below. A girl with a glaive spun forward, catching her opponent just under the ribs. A clean, practiced motion. The crowd—the combatants watching from their own prisms—didn’t cheer. They hadn’t cheered for a while now.

The spectacle had worn thin. What was left was survival.

Jin didn’t know how long he’d been sitting like this—half-lost in the string of duels flashing below. It felt like an hour. Maybe more. He hadn’t kept track after the first few names stopped being familiar.

Yujin and Jisoo were on either side of him. They hadn’t spoken much either.

Their group had done well. Better than most. Enough that Jin felt a quiet confidence settle behind the soreness in his limbs. But this trial wasn’t over. Not yet.

And now, instead of fighting, he was studying.

The air in the arena buzzed with fading energy. Flashes of techniques lingered in his mind—some subtle, others wild and uncontrolled. A boy who’d used condensed air pressure to launch himself like a railgun. A woman who’d formed a spear from water that could slice through stone. Another man whose skill made his shadow physically swap places with his body on impact.

Jin had tracked each one. Watched how they used their gifts. How their techniques revealed their philosophies. And most importantly—how their decisions shaped the outcome of each fight.

Not just power. Temperament. Pattern. Control.

Most weren’t worth remembering. But a few stood out. Enough that Jin had mentally started organizing a list—not of names, but of abilities.

Of potential threats. Or, maybe, potential allies.

Yujin spoke first, quietly.

"Been watching that one for a while?"

Jin didn’t respond immediately. His gaze was still locked on the man who’d just won. He was tall, lean—not massive, but solid. Had used a weapon made of condensed stone and magnetic pulses. Not flashy, but relentless.

"Second fight he’s won with minimal movement," Jin murmured. "Minimal energy waste."

Jisoo gave a small grunt. "That’s not the guy with the spinning swords, right?"

"No. That one burned out his stamina too early," Jin said. "This one paces. Waits. Forces overextension."

Yujin tilted her head. "Think we’ll run into him after this trial?"

Jin didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth was—it wasn’t just about running into people again. It was about what came after. The real world. The system hadn’t disappeared. It had spread. Deepened. Burrowed into society.

And the people in this arena? The ones who were winning?

They weren’t just survivors anymore.

They were future leaders. Future threats. Future rulers.

If alliances were forming—if the system truly meant to crown kings like the Dokkaebi had teased—then this wasn’t just a fight. This was positioning.

The screen above the arena flashed again—rotating through the statistics of another finished match. Jin watched as the system generated data on each participant:

[Kill Ratio: 3.2]

[Accuracy Rating: 87%]

[Damage Type: Thermal + Concussive]

[Tactical Score: 71]

[Group Viability: 68%]

Group viability.

That caught Jin’s attention.

He leaned slightly forward. "It’s grading them as units now."

Yujin blinked. "What, like... friend groups?"

"No. Something broader," Jin muttered. "Group performance across matches. Survivability. Tactical synergy."

Jisoo shifted beside him. "Makes sense. We weren’t meant to fight alone forever."

They sat in silence as another projection shimmered to life—this one displaying a full map. Names clustered into color-coded segments. Territories, maybe. Or affiliations.

Jin didn’t know who half of them were. Maybe more.

But he knew what the system was doing.

This was the setup. The final calibration.

The way you’d weigh a scale before dropping something heavy on it.

He inhaled slowly. "It’s about alliances now."

Jisoo cracked a small smile. "Guess we made the cut."

He gave her a brief glance. "We don’t know that yet."

But they did. Not officially, but instinctively.

Because despite everything—despite the chaos of the last week, despite the power gaps and skill ceilings—their group had made it.

They’d fought smart. Adapted fast. Won their matches clean, without losing control or overexposing themselves. Most importantly?

They were still alive. Together.

A small screen shimmered before them, showing the running list of participants.

Many names were now greyed out. Gone. Eliminated.

Others were highlighted—flashing softly in white or green.

Jin’s eyes traced one of the brighter names for a moment. Someone from a different camp. He remembered the match vaguely—used barriers of pressurized wind to block attacks and redirect force.

He didn’t know their name.

But he would.

Because if the system was building kings... then he wasn’t just a fighter anymore.

He was a candidate.

And so was every other name still glowing on that list.

A soft chime echoed through the arena.

Another match complete.

More glass cubes dimmed. Some vanished entirely—signaling the elimination of an entire team.

Jin’s eyes swept the field again.

Twenty remained.

He didn’t need a system message to confirm it.

He could feel it. The thinning tension. The cold weight of narrowing focus.

Only the best were left.

And whatever came next—he knew it would no longer be about who could win.

It would be about who deserved to

The arena’s lights dimmed again.

Not with the flickering instability of system damage, but with intentional, bone-deep quiet. Like the world was holding its breath.

Jin straightened.

Yujin’s tail flicked once behind her, and Jisoo lowered her arms from where she’d been leaning, both of them snapping to attention as the heavy air rolled over them.

Then—

The sky cracked open.

Above the battlefield, where the wheel had once spun endlessly, the air fractured like glass. A ripple tore outward, and through it stepped the Dokkaebi.

Not a small one.

The same towering figure draped in gold and marble, face obscured by a lion-shaped helm. Wind-blade wings curved behind its back, and each step it took across the invisible sky trembled with authority.

When it spoke, its voice didn’t boom.

It settled.

Heavy as fate.

"The first culling... is complete."

All across the battlefield, the remaining glass cubes lit up one by one—only a handful compared to the dozens from before.

"The Trial of Proving," the Dokkaebi said, "has served its purpose. You were brought here to test your strength. To grow. To evolve. And now..."

It paused.

Jin could feel the weight of its gaze through the helmet, scanning all of them.

"Now, you will be measured."

The center of the arena opened again, but not to reveal a platform or a boss.

Instead, dozens of vertical panels began to rise—each showing lines of shimmering data. Symbols, metrics, unfamiliar characters that translated themselves in real-time before their eyes.

[Name]

[Territory]

[Performance Efficiency]

[Skill Execution Rank]

[System Compatibility]

[Survivability]

And one more line—

[Potential Recognition: Eligible / Ineligible]

Jin’s eyes narrowed. "It’s ranking not just how we fought. It’s measuring who the system believes is ready to step further."

Yujin’s voice was low. "That’s not a leaderboard. That’s a judgment table."

One by one, the panels froze in place, then faded—until only twenty remained, corresponding to the twenty cubes still lit.

"Each of you represents the top surviving groups within your territories," the Dokkaebi continued. "Through your strength—or the weakness of others—you’ve become the remaining contenders in the shaping of what comes next."

Jisoo tilted her head. "Shaping?"

Jin didn’t answer. But his jaw tightened.

"I have seen your wins," the Dokkaebi said, its voice no longer neutral. "And your failures. I’ve seen allies held back by pride. Skills wasted through arrogance. Victories claimed through cruelty. And still..."

Its wings flared once.

"You stand."

There was a pause.

Then the screen above them shifted again. This time, instead of data, it was a map. Not a flat one. A top-down display of what looked like territory divisions. Countries? No. Not quite.

"Soon," the Dokkaebi said, "the system will begin selecting those who will rule the new frameworks of order."

"The Kings of the Next Era."

Jin’s breath caught.

Yujin muttered, "Kings?"

"The system doesn’t believe in democracy," Jisoo said softly.

"The next phase," the Dokkaebi continued, "is not yet decided. What path you take will be determined... by how the system categorizes you next."

That chilled Jin more than any battlefield warning.

"Categories?" he said under his breath.

"As of this moment, your fates are suspended," the Dokkaebi intoned. "The arena is sealed. The system is reviewing your alliances—who you’ve protected, who you’ve abandoned, what you’ve destroyed, and what you’ve spared."

"It will decide not only your next trial, but your place in what is to come."

Jin exchanged looks with Yujin and Jisoo. Neither spoke. But in their silence, a thousand questions raged.

Then the sky pulsed again.

And the Dokkaebi raised one hand.

"Until then—"

The ground cracked.

The sky shattered.

"Sleep."

The twenty glass prisms dropped through the arena floor—

—and darkness swallowed everything whole.