Beneath the broken sky

Challenge

After the arena’s full expansion, the floor trembled with power. From its depths, the salamanders emerged. Each far larger than the centrions we had fought before. There were five hundred and ninety of them in total, their green scales glinting under the lighting that filled the colossal space.

The air grew heavy with the acrid smell of venom. The candidates could feel it in their bones this was no mere test of strength, but a statement of each participant's worth.

“At least the ratio is more in our favour than last time,” Ida remarked with a wry smirk curling her lips.

“They still outnumber us,” Hyperion replied evenly, golden eyes scanning the mass of chimeras, “and they’re much stronger than before.”

“Then don’t slack off,” she said, and with a flourish of motion, Ida charged forward. Blue flames erupted from her body, forming concentric rings that swirled like living halos of heat.

She seized one of the salamanders by its extended tongue, the flesh hissing under her burning grasp. In one violent motion, she tore it free, corrosive blood spraying across the floor. The beast’s screeches were cut short as her hand plunged into its forehead, melting through it's scales and bones alike. A spear of condensed flame shot from her other hand, piercing through two more salamanders before dissipating against the reinforced wall.

From above, Hyperion exhaled softly. The radiant light around his eyes began to coalesce into four lines of concentrated energy. “You might want to step to the right,” he said calmly. Ida was already moving, familiar with his tone.

A second later, four radiant beams of light erupted forward, slicing through the battlefield. The beams were pure destruction, searing through dozens of salamanders in a single sweep. The smell of vaporized flesh filled the air as

salamander flesh scattered across the combatants.

All around, the other candidates froze. Even those hardened by battle found their hearts shaken by the sight, a young man standing amid smoking craters, his golden hair gleaming, his expression indifferent.

For a moment, silence ruled the chamber.

Then, a shadow loomed behind him. Hyperion turned slightly, catching the enormous hand that swung toward his face. His tone was icy when he spoke.

“Please, do not touch my face.”

The veins bulged on Jhooni’s neck, his voice booming through the hall. “You mangy little imp! You think this is all about you? Those are my prey you just slaughtered!”

Hyperion’s grip tightened; faint trails of steam rose from where their skin met. “There was no rule against fighting alone,” he replied. “If someone truly strong had wanted those kills, they would have taken them before I did.”

“You arrogant brat,” Jhooni snarled, his teeth bared. “Your background’s made you cocky. There are men alive who could snuff out your breath before you even conceive your next thought!”

The words hung heavy in the air. Other participants shifted uneasily, feeling the clash of aura between the two men, others excited by the thought. Even Ida held back, letting Hyperion handle the violence

Then came the calm, unshaken voice of Captain Wyatt through the intercom.

“Mr. Jhooni, I would suggest you refrain from conflict with the young man. And Mr. Hyperion, please release his hand.”

Hyperion glanced down. His nails had already drawn thin lines of blood in Jhooni’s wrist. He released him without a word.

“Wonderful,” the captain said evenly, the faintest amusement in his tone.

“You’re lucky, kid,” Jhooni spat before stalking away, his aura simmering.

Ida approached, brushing soot from her cheek. “Way to go. Didn’t think you’d steal all the glory. I thought you’d leave a little spotlight for me.”

“Seems the remaining monsters are too afraid to move,” Wyatt’s voice rang again, now almost cheerful. “We have our golden-haired participant to thank for that. That concludes the Huntsman Entrance Examination. Please stand by for the results.”

The reinforced walls lowered as the floor sank. The arena’s stench of blood and smoke began to dissipate, replaced by the sterile scent of air fresheners as the cleaning staff began to work.

Ida flopped down on one of the stone benches encircling the pit. “Oooh, I can’t wait. What do you think you’ll get; a hundred? Seventy? Eighty?”

Hyperion sat beside her. “I doubt this is the kind of exam that uses schoolyard grading systems.”

Thirty minutes later, a group of Huntsman staff appeared, each carrying envelopes embossed with the silver insignia of the organisation. Only a hundred and forty candidates remained to receive them.

The lead examiner spoke, his tone formal and detached. “Due to circumstances in the final examination, we have chosen to reduce its weight on the final evaluation. Performance in previous rounds will now hold greater importance.

“The grade given is not permanent. Promotion can be achieved by subduing a designated number of entities of higher grade. However, the consequences of overreaching fall upon you alone. The grading corresponds to the subclass of entities you are deemed capable of defeating. Dying to a higher-grade entity, barring exceptional cases, will disqualify your next of kin from receiving Huntsman death gratuity.”

The murmuring began before he finished.

“...fifth grade? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“How am I supposed to live off a fifth-grade salary?”

“All because of that golden-haired brat!”

Hyperion ignored them, glancing sideways at Ida. “What’s your grade?” he asked, not out of curiosity, but to confirm whether he was indeed, to be blamed for the others’ misfortune.

Ida’s grin spread. “First grade!” she announced dramatically, flipping her card toward him. “How did lowly Ida manage that? Guess I’m more amazing than you thought,” she said smugly.

Hyperion scoffed but said nothing, his attention caught by Captain Wyatt approaching. The man’s expression was one of measured satisfaction.

“Excellent work, Mr. Hyperion,” Wyatt said. “A remarkable display of perfect control of magical energy and exceptional fortitude. Truly befitting of a First Grade Huntsman.”

Hyperion inclined his head politely, though inwardly he thought; “doesn’t mean much if someone who didn’t do nearly as much also shares the same rank.“

“And Miss Ida,” the captain continued, “you shone brightly in the first and second rounds. I have no doubt you would have continued your outstanding performance, had your partner not… monopolized the battlefield.”

Ida nodded smugly. “See? Even the captain agrees.”

Wyatt chuckled softly, extending his hand. “I look forward to seeing both of you grow. Congratulations.”

When he left, the two exchanged a glance.

“So,” Hyperion said at last, rising, “should we go?”

Ida grinned. “Yeah, no. Nothing thrills me more than the stench of sweat, burning flesh, and chimera blood.”

“Good. Just wanted to hear you say it.” He gestured toward the exit. “Let’s go. We still need to find a lodge and cash these in.”

***

At the reception, the familiar attendant greeted them with new respect, now clearly aware of their ranks. He handed each a golden coin on a short chain, he official identification of a Huntsman.

“Finally,” Ida sighed, stepping into the cool air. “I felt like a darkwyrm trapped in that sunlight-blocked dungeon.”

“There’s no sunlight now either,” Hyperion replied dryly. “And don’t say the name, calling their name aloud might enrage them.“ Hyperion said in the weird accent the old lady who told horror stories about chimeras in one of the towns they visited years back used to say it, before laughing loudly regardless of the fact that we were in a public place, or were we. 

“Hmmm”, Hyperion sighed. “At least they had the decency of not harassing us back there.“ Ida gave a puzzled expression before realising what he meant. “Good evening kind sirs, anything we could help you with this fine evening?” he asked.

“The nerve of this kid”, said the hoarse voiced man at the forefront who wore a skin-tight shirt that accentuated his already cartoonishly huge, veined muscles and wore a smug expression. 

The others came out of the shadow revealing that they all looked as if their body proportions had been drawn by a bodybuilding obsessed preteen. 

“Why do people go out of their way to look like this when physical strength means so little in this world?” Hyperion thought inwardly. 

“You have caused an inconvenience for us kid, your little show of force has put a dent in our own fortune,” said the hefty man in the front.

“If that show of force didn't make you understand that I'm not one to be intimidated by whatever this is, then I guess I did a piss poor job,” he retorted.

“Ooh,” the man said with an expression that looked as though he had taken something too salty. "That's quite a mouth you have on you boy", he said as he seized control of the magical energy around us". I hope you can take as much heat as your mouth releases", he growled.