Gilded Ashes-Chapter 32: Mace and Rings

The gates were still rising when Raizen moved.

He ducked under the half-open bar, boots hitting concrete, and sprinted straight for the left lane – the one with tight corners, low ceilings, and bad visibility. The kind of place where speed and angles decided everything.

Behind him, the arena was still roaring. The host was still shouting into a hundred microphones, voice exploding through hidden speakers, turning the exam into a carnival. Cameras drifted like insects in the air, trying to catch faces, trying to catch fear, trying to catch someone making a mistake big enough to sell.

None of it mattered. Raizen didn’t look up. He didn’t wave. He didn’t posture for the scoreboard.

He just ran. As fast as he could.

The left lane met him almost immediately. A cracked stairwell leaned into the passage like it wanted to collapse. Hanging cables brushed his shoulders. Old concrete dust sat in the air and made the light look dirty, like the place had the same stale air for years and never got the chance to exhale.

A Shade waited just past the first bend, hiding into a dark corner like it thought it was clever.

Thin arms. Wrong elbows. Head tilted too far. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Raizen didn’t slow down.

His right blade came up in a short cut and the thing came apart cleanly. The Nyx didn’t bleed. It simply lost its shape and burst into drifting golden particles that scattered across the floor like ash caught in a spotlight.

Raizen was already past it.

Two more Shades fell off the ceiling at the same time, dropping like spiders.

His feet didn’t stutter. Pivot off the lead foot. Weight low. Elbows tight.

He split the first Shade down the middle and slid away from the second one’s swing, shoulder rolling along the wall for half a step. His left blade took its throat – well, the place where a throat should’ve been.

The host’s voice echoed faintly through the concrete.

"And there goes one of our speed demons! Ladies and gentlemen, Contestant 7, Raizen, has chosen the left lane!"

Roars answered him from above. People loved the idea of danger when it wasn’t theirs.

Raizen heard it the same way you heard wind through a crack in a window. Something that existed, but something you didn’t really need.

Another Shade tried to ambush him from a doorframe. It was fast, but it wasn’t disciplined. It reached too early, swung too wide, and exposed its center.

Raizen corrected it... By cutting off the parts that moved too slow.

One step. Two perfect cuts. One quiet pulse from the blade.

He kept moving without looking back.

The left lane didn’t have big places or clean sightlines. It was mostly corridors and choke points. It also sometimes had broken rooms with missing walls and hallways that narrowed until your shoulders brushed both sides. Every corner was a question. Every shadow could hide an answer with teeth.

That was why he’d chosen it.

A wide lane let you show off.

A tight lane punished you if you lied to yourself.

Raizen didn’t lie.

He hit the next stretch like it was a drill.

Shade after Shade came at him. Some crawled along the ceiling. Some rose from vents in the floor. Some waited in clusters, twitching like they were uncertain about when to move.

Raizen didn’t give them that choice.

He used the walls to push their into corners. He used the ceiling height to predict their jumps. He used the corridor width to force them into single line without ever giving them time to realize they’d been guided.

His blades stayed close. No big swings. No wasted motion.

This didn’t feel like combat. It felt like cleaning up.

A heavier sound rolled through the corridor, a low sound that echoed for a few seconds.

Raizen’s pace didn’t change, but his shoulders tightened a fraction.

This must mean that stronger Nyxes have entered the arena. Class 2. Reavers.

A Reaver stepped out from behind a broken pillar, bigger than the Shades, thicker through the torso, limbs too long and too jointed. Its head was wrong in a different way. Less like a mistake and more like a threat.

It saw Raizen and immediately charged.

The floor trembled under it.

Above, the host’s voice spiked with excitement.

"Ohoho! We’ve got the first Reaver in the right lane! Big boy’s wild, folks! Is our speed demon about to learn a lesson?"

Raizen didn’t block.

Blocking was what people did when they weren’t sure.

He watched the Reaver’s shoulder. The way it rotated. The way its weight shifted. The way it committed to its charge like it expected him to panic.

That was its mistake.

Raizen stepped inside the line of impact.

His right blade snapped out and cut the Reaver’s wrist at the exact point its momentum needed it most.

The arm buckled. The charge broke down. The Reaver’s own force turned into a stumble.

Raizen’s other blade slid up its centerline, a clean split that started at the sternum and ended where the shoulder should’ve been.

For half a heartbeat, the Reaver stood there like it didn’t understand.

Then it came apart in a thick burst of golden particles, heavier than the Shades.

Raizen kicked the dissolving mass away to clear the corridor and ran straight through the cloud.

His blades pulsed once, low and quiet.

The lane pushed back even harder after that.

Shades now came in pairs. Then threes. Then small clusters that tried to move like packs.

Raizen didn’t give them time to organize, he cut them into pieces before they could synchronize.

But coming from behind, a Shade managed to clip him.

It happened fast, a shallow slash across his forearm in a corridor that didn’t really allow Raizen to move freely.

The suit flashed yellow in a sharp pulse. A warning, not a scream.

Raizen hissed once, as the pain flared. But he didn’t slow down.

Pain was a signal, not a verdict.

He used the opening it created.

The Shade’s arm was still extended, still proud of itself, still reaching like it expected a reward.

Raizen took that arm off at the elbow and let the thing fall into his second blade.

Golden ash flew across the wall.

He didn’t look at the cut. The suit had already logged it. His body had already adjusted.

These Nyxes were the weakest ones, yet they could still hurt him if he wasn’t careful.

The corridor opened into a small ruined square that used to be a courtyard, maybe. There were broken pillars, half walls and a collapsed ceiling that let a thin line of light fall from somewhere far above. Dust drifted through that beam, slow and peaceful, like the world didn’t care what was happening down here.

Two candidates were pinned near a shattered fountain.

They were young. Their breathing was loud in the tight space. They held their weapons like they were praying the luminite would save them.

Three Shades moved around them, slowly, patiently.

Raizen saw the pattern immediately.

They weren’t trying to kill fast.

They were trying to make them panic.

The host’s voice floated down, amused.

"While Arashi is wreaking havoc in the right lane, Esen is blowing up structures in the middle... The left lane has some lambs struggling! Someone help them, someone help them! Wait - is that Raizen? Ooh, is he going to play hero?"

Raizen didn’t play anything.

One step got him close to a broken pillar. Another step launched him right towards the Nyxes.

The first Shade, confused, reached and lost its hand immediately.

The second tried to circle and caught his thrown blade through its chest, pinned to a wooden beam with a sharp thunk. It writhed, trapped, arms flailing uselessly.

The third hesitated.

Hesitation was a sin in a place like this.

Raizen’s blade took its head off.

Gilded particles drifted, catching the thin beam of light and turning it into something almost pretty.

Raizen turned to the candidates.

He didn’t congratulate them. He didn’t tell them they were brave. He flicked his eyes toward the pinned Shade and nodded once.

"Go on. Finish it"

The candidates stared like they couldn’t believe he’d left one alive.

Then one of them swallowed, stepped forward, and drove their weapon into the Shade’s chest.

Their suit chimed softly. Points. Not kills, but assists counted too.

Their breathing changed immediately. Still scared, but now it was a bit more relieved.

The host laughed, delighted.

"Support play! He’s not just killing, folks, he’s feeding points! Raizen is handing out survival like it’s candy!"

Raizen was already leaving.

He didn’t stay to watch them recover.

Time wasn’t forgiving enough for that.

Deeper in, it got uglier.

Ambushes came layered now. A Shade from the ceiling. Another from the floor. A third from a side door, timed to strike when you turned.

He used one Shade’s body as a shield against another’s strike, then sliced them both apart in the same movement. He baited a ceiling drop and stepped aside at the last second, letting the Shade smash into the floor hard enough to stagger itself. He ended it with a short thrust.

His breathing never changed.

His tempo never faltered. He was always adapting.

Compared to the Rust Room, arena above was a different world. You could feel it sometimes in the vibrations, in the distant rumble of cheers, in the occasional burst of music the host used to keep the crowd awake.

Sometimes Raizen heard triumphant screams from side corridors. Sometimes he saw bodies running in the distance, candidates scattering like startled birds.

The corridor opened into a deep pit that swallowed the light. You couldn’t see the bottom. You could only feel the cold air rising from it, damp and salty, like the pit had been waiting for someone to fall.

Three Reavers stood on the bridge.

Waiting.

The crowd must’ve seen it on the screens, because the roar above shifted, not laughter this time but suspense. The sound changed shape, tightening, focusing, like thousands of people leaned forward at once.

The host’s voice dropped into something almost respectful.

"Alright. Alright, folks. This is interesting. Three Reavers on a bridge, and our left-lane speedster has nowhere to go but through. Will he get thrown into the hole? Also, don’t worry. There’s water down. I don’t know how deep down though."

Raizen didn’t look at the pit.

He looked at the Reaver’s feet.

Reavers were strong, but they were still weight and movement. They still had rules.

The first one lunged, arm swinging wide, waiting to sweep him off the bridge first thing.

Raizen stepped onto the rail.

One foot, light and certain.

The Reaver’s swing passed under him, missing by a hair.

Raizen jumped on the thing’s back and cut its shoulders. The arms collapsed. The Reaver staggered.

He finished it with a vertical split through the back.

Golden ash poured off the bridge like shiny sand.

The second Reaver came in immediately, trying to use the opening, trying to turn hesitation into a shove.

Raizen let it.

He stepped backward just enough to invite the push, then pivoted sideways at the last moment, letting the Reaver’s force carry it forward.

The creature overcommitted, heavy body leaning out toward the pit.

Raizen kicked behind its knee. The leg buckled.

The heavy Reaver dropped to one side, claws scraping the air.

Raizen grabbed its collar area where a collar shouldn’t exist and drove his blade into its chest.

It dissolved mid-grasp.

For a fraction of a second, Raizen’s hand was holding nothing but gilded particles.

He turned.

The third Reaver was watching all this time. And it seemed to learn something.

It didn’t charge.

It waited, shoulders hunched, arms low, trying to bait Raizen towards it.

Raizen approached anyway.

He made the Reaver move first by stepping into its threat zone, by giving it no other choice but to commit.

The Nyx snapped forward with a short, brutal strike aimed at his ribs.

Raizen took the hit on his forearms. The suit flashed yellow again, bright against the dim corridor.

His body turned with the impact, rolling his shoulder and slipping inside the Reaver’s reach. His left blade slid under its arm into the soft place that should have been between ribs, and his right blade took its arm at the same time.

The Reaver tried to roar.

It didn’t get the chance.

Raizen split its centerline and stepped away as it dissolved, golden ash drifting off the bridge in a slow fall.

Above, the crowd went quiet for a beat.

Then the roar returned, different now.

The scoreboard chimed somewhere overhead. A mechanical sound that filtered down through concrete like distant thunder.

Raizen didn’t look up.

But the host did.

"Oh my - folks, I’m getting an update. Raizen just broke into the top ten. Wait - wait, that’s not top ten, that’s... eighth. Eighth place! In the left lane! That’s insane!"

Raizen’s pace stayed the same.

Points were progress, not pride.

He stepped off the far end of the bridge and kept moving.

The lane widened again and offered him a glimpse through a broken wall into another section of the exam.

For a second, the world split into frames.

The guy named Esen was ahead in a ruined hallway, fists glowing with multiple rings, punching a Shade so hard it exploded into golden ash like it had been hit by a cannon. But he didn’t slow down. He just kept walking menacingly through the smoke.

Feris stood in a wider chamber, her mace planted, swinging in arcs that reshaped the battlefield. Literally. Every time it hit the ground, the floor cracked and the Nyxes stumbled, right before she swung her mace so hard, it completely destroyed a wall and continued into the Nyx, obliterating it.

Arashi moved like a machine, gunfire sharp and controlled, each shot placed like a verdict. He wasn’t spraying. He wasn’t panicking. He was deleting targets one by one with calm precision.

And Keahi - Keahi was brutal.

She stepped into a cluster of Shades with a claymore that looked too big for any sane person, with a orange-red glow. Her swings were wild. Behind every swing, flames appeared, like the blade was made of fire itself.

The host’s voice, delighted, bounced across the air.

"Look at them! Look at this class! Esen is turning Nyxes into fireworks! Feris is... Uhm... Redesigning the map! Arashi is making aiming midair look easy! And Keahi - Keahi is cutting through them like fire! The other contestants are insane, too! We’ll look at them in a second, as well!"

Raizen didn’t compare himself with any of them.

But these were real competitors.