The legendary warrior

"His power's too strong!" A palpable tension sailed through whispers of quivering mouths. "A-amazing..."
The mysterious man in Blood Robe spared a spiteful glance to the onlookers. Driven still by the ominous threat that lay behind
the being's scrutiny, they sealed their mouths shut in fear of offending him.
This male was not normal by any means. After all, he was none other than the incarnation of the Sacred Blood Lion.
"Welcome to Lion King Castle!"
Benson and his disciples fell to their knees in one swift movement, displaying their unwavering reverence for the spirit before
them. They couldn't be more delighted to be standing on the dais as they beheld his awaited arrival.
However, the guest harbored such deep and clear hostility towards the group, that their futile attempt to plow past his
indifference with the use of courtesy went ignored.
It was a fact that Ricky couldn't completely comprehend. He thought that the relationship between the subjects would be one
filled with homage, what with the widespread legend of its ancestry. And yet, a disturbing truth dawned on him as he further
observed the situation; humans and beasts, with their glaring differences, were just as incompatible as mixed oil and water.
If it weren't for the submissiveness of the contenders, the spirit would have started a massacre if he had felt even the slightest
malicious intent drifting from one of them.
He shifted his predatory gaze to Benson's form, not bothering to hide his distaste. "Here are the three drops of blood essence
from my body. Take them," he said as he regarded them coldly, stretching out his right hand to reveal his bloodstained fingertips.
Three dark beads of blood slipped past the thick surface of his skin and floated towards Benson.
The receiver took out a jade bottle from his loose sleeve hastily as he prepared to catch the flying drops of liquid. He couldn't
help but feel excited at the sight of it, his hands trembling with the obvious effort to stay calm.
"Thank you, my honorable Sacred Blood Lion!" Benson bowed deeply to the benevolent figure. His disciples followed his actions
shortly after.
"This marks the end of the debt I once owed to your castle. From now on, expect that I will no longer be back. Your kind and
mine shall never mingle again, and if ever we do--" his glare bored into them, chipping away at the chunks of metal serving as
their armor. To him, it must've looked like mere toys. "--we are to meet as enemies."

He left in a trail of dark red smoke, disappearing without a trace in the open air.
It appeared that the Sacred Blood Lion was more than unwilling to pay a visit to a human's territory.
The warriors all sighed in relief at his departure, finally able to breathe at ease without the all-encompassing presence.
Then, one by one, heads snapped like magnets entranced to a piece of metal as the king held the white, delicate jade bottle that
contained the blood essence. Greed reflected in their eyes, burning rays into the small object that almost seemed to melt under
its intensity like wax against a white-hot flame.
No warriors in this world could've had the tenacity to resist the temptation of the rare matter.
Even so, resorting to using underhanded tactics was a taboo amongst the whole region. One must go through the Iron Blood
Trial to earn such a prize; if not, they would face the wrath of the Snow Sect.
A conceited warrior of Bone Reinforcement had taken it upon him to commit such a foolish, daring act once.
The news of his idiotic thieving had spread quickly, and as a dire consequence, his name found its own home on the Sect's
death list as a prime wanted man. Soon enough, the burglar and his accomplices' bodies had served their purposes as
decorations to the gates of the Lion King Castle.
No one ever had the nerve to oppose the authorities since then.
Ricky's eyes twinkled with eagerness, luring him into a daze the longer he stared at the bottle. He couldn't help the thirst he had
for the power within his reach, but he also had questions he'd like to clarify. "Master Grace, there's something about the Trial that
feels a bit... uncertain to me. As per tradition, Benson had always followed the tradition of pouring all the blood essence into the
Sacred Blood Pond, but if his disciples fail in the test, what would be there for Lion King Castle to gain?" he pondered over the
matter as he whispered with a childlike sense of wonder tainting the sound of his voice. "The Lion King Castle would only be
doing a huge favor to the other participating sects. In my opinion, it's a deal that would only cause them no good!"
"Is it a bad deal if ninety percent of the blood's energy has been drawn out before it's dribbled into the Scared Blood Pond?"
Grace answered, rolling her eyes at his question.
He flushed in embarrassment; rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly before flashing her an awkward smile, "Oh... Is that so?"
At least now, all doubts inside his mind had been erased.

"Lion King Castle has to share half of the drawn percentage with our Snow Sect in exchange for our protection," she added.
"Otherwise, our sect won't trouble itself with guarding this place. Having only ten quotas to represent our sect in the trial is way
too cheap a price to be the castle's safeguard anyway."
"To be powerful and strong really is everything, I'm so proud to be part of the Snow Sect!"
Ricky exclaimed, having found Grace's words as a source of hope for him to imbue.
...
"Greetings! As you all might have seen, the blood essence had been transferred to this bottle I hold in my hand. The Iron Blood
Trial will proceed three days from now as scheduled; I hope you'd all do well, especially with the knowledge of this event being
the last one in history. May you all try your best to win!"
Benson roused the crowd into shouting with glee and jubilation with his speech of encouragement.
It was a scene spurred on by the tireless bravery and conviction that lay within each warrior's fiery soul. Everyone in the area had
come with an undeterred will; they were all prepared to see through any setbacks that might hinder them from coming back to
their lands as champions.
...
The pack slowly dissipated in numbers as everyone began to leave the venue. Ricky and Grace followed suit but were stopped
due to an uninvited figure.
"Look! The nerve of you little bastard coming here! Don't tell me you intend to compete in the Iron Blood Trial!" Connie scoffed,
speaking to Ricky in a venomous tone, while she was supported behind by the presence of a young man in black along with two
young disciples.
Ricky gauged them in a quiet, appraising manner, and immediately concluded that these disciples were to join the trial.
On the contrary, the man beside them insinuated the feeling of superior power. He felt like the first breeze of an oncoming storm;
dangerous and gloomy, inevitable destruction caused by the unstoppable force of nature. Ricky bristled at the foreboding sense
of feeling he got from the male, more so when he saw Grace's expression shift into one of surprises upon registering his looks
into familiarity.
He looked away, choosing to prioritize dealing with the annoying woman belittling him without any shame.

"My feet belong to me, and I'll go anywhere I want using it. You have no right to judge me!"
He fought back, not showing any signs of the vulnerability Connie must've hoped to see after delivering her vicious taunts.
She seethed, sputtering at his comeback. "Grace, why did you recruit such an arrogant nominal disciple?" The man in black cut
in, a faint wicked smile marring his lips. Suddenly, an enormous intent to kill gushed out and painted their atmosphere with
straining pressure. It was nothing compared to the terror brought upon by the descent of the sacred being, but it was enough to
scare Ricky into putting a hold on saying any words of carelessness.
"Harald, you have no right to judge my disciple!" Grace argued, unaffected by the rising level of his animosity.
"Oh, Grace. How could you say such a thing? Both of us are core disciples of the Snow Sect. It's our collective duty to instruct
our outer disciples together,"
Smirking, he basked in joy upon witnessing her face crumble in lividity. "This guy doesn't even know how to act in front of his
senior. I'd very much like to teach him about manners, but my disciple shall take over in my stead."
"Jim, will you be willing to do this job for me?"
Harald turned and asked, knowing full well that his question was just for the sake of theatrics.
"Sure, Master Harald. An arrogant weakling like him would surely be in good hands during the Iron Blood Trial."
Grace paid no heed to his jeers and asked him instead, "Is this young disciple of yours at the eighth grade of Skin Refinement?
Or higher?" Ricky visibly recoiled as his attention swept to Jim, a shadow of shock permeating his consciousness.
"Why don't we see for ourselves? I'll be looking forward to it," he studied Ricky in contemplation, a sneer appearing on his cruel
face as he did so.
"Fine, let's leave it at that."
The conversation came to an abrupt end at his master's final words. Ricky followed her dutifully, marching out of the place as
they headed towards their inn.
...
Watching the two figures recede into the distance, Harald went to Connie and said, "Be at ease, that bastard won't survive the
trial." He whispered what he thought were words of comfort to Connie, his lustful eyes betraying any sincerity he wanted to

impose on her.
Unfortunately for him, her attention already lay somewhere else. Far from him, or them, as she watched Ricky's form slowly
disappear into the bustling city with obvious resentment. She wanted it so bad to kill Ricky right there and then, stopping at the
right time when she realized that she was still with her companions. She promptly pulled herself back to her senses the moment
she heard Harald's voice addressing her. "I'm so grateful!" She thanked him profusely with a charming smile, barely preventing
herself from cringing after noting the vulgar smile he sported.
Unbeknownst to him, her beautiful, mesmerizing eyes were all a facade for the brewing anger beneath it.
She pursed her lips in well-hidden contempt, disgusted by the lasciviousness he exuded in thick, suffocating plumes.
...
"Master Grace, what's the identity of that Harald?"
Ricky sat across from Grace behind their wooden table. Their previous encounter had been far from forgotten; a nagging thought
that itched on the back of their minds as they continued on their soundless journey to their temporary shelter.
"He is ranked five among the core disciples; a member of the Casting Faction," she replied, exhausted from her mental battle
with Harald earlier.
"About Jim, you should be careful; he's ninth place among the outer disciples. As far as I'm concerned, his Skin Refinement had
also reached the ninth grade." He was stunned, struck with awe for his future rival.
"You mean, he ranks ninth among the Ten Outer Disciples?" He knew the odds of success were slim in a battle with Jim, but this
didn't mean that he would back down. He had never lacked confidence in the face of adversity, and he wasn't planning to lose
his morale now.
'If I can't beat up a warrior at Jim's level, how can I possibly fight against the Refinement and Casting Faction in the future?'
Ricky clenched his fists in anticipation; the stronger his opponent was, the more he would be eager to fight.
...
Three days later, the Iron Blood Trial begun as planned.
The outskirts of the Lion King Mountains had converted into a field that accommodated the preparing warriors for the event.

With their tokens of entry in hand, they waited anxiously outside the entrance to the test area.
A few minutes passed; a gust of freezing wind started to blow, serving as a coincidental signal for the drums to beat in tandem
with the entrance of Benson, the master of the Lion King Castle, in the venue.
"Everyone! I must remind you of the dangers you will undoubtedly face once you go beyond the gates. I too trekked these same
trails in the past and survived solely due to my strength. And so, the Lion King Castle will not carry the burden of guilt caused by
your deaths! You have come here knowing that it will be ruthless, and only the strongest will have the honor of being the last
ones standing."
Benson let himself scan the crowd with minimal interest and persisted on, "As per to the rules of this trial, I will inform you all of
your tasks. You are to survive out in the wild for a month, and the top three warriors to succeed in killing the most ferocious
beasts will win!"
"But of course, if any of you were to come out while the trial is still taking in place, you will be instantly disqualified."
Murmurs surged from the competitors, growing louder and louder as Benson's address neared its end.
"Now, shall we begin?!"
Roars akin to the beasts, they would soon be hunting emerged from the warriors, a deafening sound that shook the mountains
as they were all drowned with the high, frenzy energy their voices carried along.
Amidst the chaos, disciples of the Lion King Castle attempted to calm the mass of people as they approached them, delivering a
small, black piece of wood to each trial taker.
"That is called ancient ironwood. It's meant to witness and record your fighting moments!" Benson explained, leaving the troop to
inspect the foreign item.