The group of five moved through the deep corridors of a narrow pathway, with Scribe in front and the others closely following behind.

Steven was next after Scribe, the young Marked sinking briefly into the comfort of his system.

{Name: Steven ...}

{Race: Marked}

{System: Limitless Undead System}

{Talent: Gain x5 upgrades from every undead slain. Copy skills from the dead and make them yours.}

{Physique: 20/20}

{Mana: 10/10}

{Skills Copied: Rampage Blast, Stun}

Sponsored:

Dimension Shop

Astral Chat

{Undead Cores Accumulated: 8}

Apparently, the only thing that had changed was the number of Undead Cores he possessed,most likely thanks to killing the Sea Deity.

At least he had gotten a half-decent reward out of that madness.

Steven sighed and dismissed the system with a wave of his hand.

{Your Sponsor is excited}

"Excited?" Steven restrained himself from screaming and throwing punches into the air in protest. ’Only by luck were my calculations against that Deity even remotely correct, and you’re friggin’ excited that I lost an eye.’

Steven instinctively raised his hand to his left eye, which he had wrapped in cloth, forming a crude makeshift eyepatch.

{Your Sponsor sympathizes with you}

{Ding}

{Your Sponsor has added a temporary status screen to your system}

{Interest Level: 90/100}

{Interest Level: A temporary status screen that shows how interested your Sponsor has become while observing your scrutiny and bold displays. Once the bar is filled, you will automatically pass the Realm of Entry, with or without completing the Trials.}

Steven’s eyes widened in surprise at what he read. Not only could he return to the human world simply by entertaining the Deity, but there was now a visible bar showing how invested his foolish Sponsor was in him, and it was almost full.

It was... comforting.

But Steven forcefully cleared his heart of those comforts. He knew his luck well enough, it would never be that easy. His body still strained under the lingering stress of earlier battles, and his mind felt exhausted from the constant calculations and decisions he’d made over the past few days.

Sometimes, Steven could have sworn he had gone mad at some point, but well...

"Do you think it would work?" Favour asked, tugging lightly at Steven’s clothes to get his attention.

He blinked, momentarily confused. "Work?"

"Yes," she said. "Leaving the Colosseum—how sure are we that’s the end of the Trials?"

"I don’t know," he replied honestly.

Lin, who stood close by, did not hesitate to speak. "It’s the best plan we can come up with right now. I’ve spent the longest time here and amassed the most strength and knowledge."

Steven’s gaze sharpened at that. He had never truly considered it before, Lin being the first of the Cohort to be sent into the Fated Colosseum.

That realization caught both Favour’s and Steven’s attention.

"During my first years in the Colosseum," Lin continued, "I met different Marked like myself. We were only able to complete the first condition of the Trial. The second and third, we had no idea how to accomplish them. So we kept fighting, hoping to acquire a Sponsor and earn our way home..."

Her voice grew colder, distant, as though dragged into a grim flashback.

"However, the Fated Colosseum isn’t like other Realms of Entry. It’s almost as if there are no Sponsors here at all, and the only way out is to truly finish the Trial. It might be the first of its kind or a rare one made specifically for cursed souls that dared fall into this category—"

"What category?" Favour asked curiously.

"A Trial-only Realm of Entry," Lin said, her eyes glowing faintly. Her gaze drifted briefly to Steven, who clearly showed interest in her words.

"So the first Cohort and I thought through our conditions. We assumed the second condition was killing the King Beast, and the third was escaping the Colosseum..."

Her jaw tightened.

"But we were wrong. Completely wrong. The Colosseum slaughtered them all. A Cohort of ten powerful Marked, murdered like bugs. I survived only because I was the weakest among them. They believed they could handle everything on their own."

She fell silent, letting the weight of her words sink into their hearts.

Favour’s eyes gleamed with renewed belief, convinced that escaping the Colosseum might truly be the answer.

Steven, however, felt a dark wave of dread rise in his chest. If escaping the Fated Colosseum didn’t send them home...

Then killing the King Beast would.

Scribe suddenly came to a halt, stopping in front of a door that led out of the narrow tunnel. He turned his wrinkled face toward the others.

His sudden pause caught everyone’s attention, and they stopped behind him.

"Can someone help me with the door?" Scribe asked, raising his fragile hands and wiggling them to emphasize how useless they were.

Drake frowned at the old man’s humor and stepped forward. He grasped the metal knob, it resisted fiercely even with his strength. After several strained seconds, he managed to twist it and push the door open.

Beyond it lay a strange room.

The Cohort stepped inside, their gazes filled with mesmerized unease at what they saw.

The chamber was a massive hall, filled with wide stone pillars. The ground was no longer metallic like the prison corridors, it was entirely covered in brown sand. A thin, unnatural fog blanketed the room, making it difficult to see more than a dozen feet ahead.

Strangely, the fog was thickest around their ankles, coiling around their feet like something alive.

Steven immediately felt uneasy. None of this was normal.

He turned to Scribe, searching the old man’s face for answers. Scribe merely shrugged in response.

The Cohort moved cautiously forward into the hall of white fog—

Slam!

The door shut violently behind them, the sound reverberating throughout the entire chamber and startling everyone.

Then, a notification appeared before Steven.

{Hunting Fog Skill has been activated}

{Title: King Beast}

{Status: Disaster}

{Warning: Do not challenge this being}

A low growl echoed through the fog, drawing the Cohort’s attention toward the rear of the room where the door had sealed itself shut, and the fog had grown impossibly thick.

There—

A pair of bloodshot eyes glared at them from within the white haze.