I Only Tame Dragons

The air was electric with tension as the remaining players gathered in the expansive grasslands conjured by the elves' masterful illusions.

The field, dotted with soft golden light from a setting sun, was deceptively serene—a cruel juxtaposition to the fierce competition that was about to commence.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, anticipation and anxiety intertwining as the guilds prepared themselves for the second trial.

High above the field, a magical projection shimmered into view. The host of the competition, a striking elf with hair like spun silver and eyes that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light, appeared. His voice boomed across the expanse, rich and commanding, demanding the attention of every competitor.

"Welcome, survivors, to the second challenge of this grand event: The Race for Survival!" His words hung in the air like a thunderclap, reverberating across the landscape. The guilds fell silent, their collective focus locking onto the host as he elaborated.

"In this trial, your resilience, ingenuity, and sheer determination will be pushed to the limits. You will enter a perilous dimension fraught with dangers both seen and unseen. The rules are simple but unforgiving: you may carry with you only five items—choose wisely, for what you bring may mean the difference between victory and annihilation. Non-stackable of course!"

A wave of murmurs swept through the players. Some turned to their guildmates, discussing strategies, while others scowled, their faces etched with concern. The host's smile widened, the faintest trace of mischief flickering across his elegant features.

"Once inside, anything you find is yours to keep, if you can hold onto it. Survive for a week, and your guild will advance to the next stage of the competition. However, heed this warning: death is final. There are no second chances, no miraculous resurrections. Should even one member of your guild choose to give up, your entire guild will forfeit and be eliminated. There will be no mercy."

The finality of his words sent chills through the crowd. Every guild present was seasoned, their members no strangers to high-stakes scenarios, but the weight of the host's declaration pressed heavily upon them.

For the first time, even the more boisterous teams grew quiet, their confidence tempered by the grim reality of what lay ahead. The first challenge had been daunting and the second even more so.

Behind the host, the elven grand mages stepped forward, their flowing robes shimmering with intricate patterns of light and energy. They raised their staffs in unison, their voices blending into a harmonious chant that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of reality.

The air shimmered and warped as their incantation reached a crescendo, and then, with a blinding flash, a massive portal materialized in the center of the field.

The portal was a swirling vortex of energy, its edges pulsing with hues of gold, silver, and deep emerald. It seemed alive, a chaotic yet mesmerizing gateway that radiated both beauty and menace. The ground beneath it cracked and trembled, as if the very earth was protesting the power of the rift.

The host's voice rang out once more, slicing through the awe and trepidation. "Your time begins the moment you step through this gate. Inside, you will face challenges like no other—natural perils, ancient traps, beasts, and, of course, the threat posed by your fellow competitors. Not all who enter will emerge. Prepare yourselves."

A collective hush fell over the gathered guilds as they turned to their leaders, finalizing their preparations. Items were checked, weapons adjusted, and quiet prayers murmured.

The Wingless Valkyries stood off to one side, their leader Seraphina whispering last-minute instructions to her team, her gaze steely with determination.

Nearby, Horizon's guild was a picture of quiet clam except for Lydia who was fidgeting left and right.

Von glanced at Horizon, his grin slightly restrained but no less confident. "Ready to win this thing?"

Horizon smirked, adjusting the straps on his pack. "Always."

The host extended his hand toward the portal, his voice taking on a dramatic flair. "Let the second trial begin!"

The portal flared, its energy roaring like a mighty storm. Without hesitation, the first guild surged forward, their footsteps thundering against the earth as they plunged into the rift. The rest of the competitors followed in quick succession, each guild determined not to be left behind.

As Horizon's group approached the portal, Lydia fidgeted nervously. "A week inside that thing? I hope it's not that dangerous," she muttered, her tone attempting to mask her unease.

"Just stick close to me, my dear Lydia, and let me worry about the rest," Von replied, his voice flirty.

Lydia only batted her lashes, masking the flicker of unease in her chest. Still, the presence of Von and Horizon at her side steadied her nerves. With Frigid's defense and Silphie's healing abilities, she felt a small surge of confidence. If any team could navigate the chaos of this second trial and make it out alive, it was theirs.

That said, the lingering thought of forfeiture offered a fragile safety net, a last resort if things spiraled beyond control. But deep down, Lydia knew Horizon wasn't the type to bow out easily.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Giving up wasn't in his nature—it wasn't in any of theirs. If they were going down, it wouldn't be without a fight.

One by one, they disappeared into the vortex, the portal swallowing them whole with a dazzling display of light and energy. The transition was jarring—a sensation of being stretched and compressed simultaneously, the air crackling with raw magic.

When Horizon and his guild emerged on the other side, they found themselves in an environment that was as treacherous as it was alien. The terrain was a patchwork of biomes, each more hostile than the last. To their left stretched a desert of searing heat, the sand shimmering like molten glass. To their right, a dense jungle pulsed with the sounds of unseen predators. Above them, the sky was an unnatural shade of crimson, its clouds swirling ominously.

The faint cries of distant guilds echoed through the landscape, a reminder that they were far from alone. Horizon tightened his grip on his weapon, his expression hardening.

The sheer number of guilds gathered in one area made Horizon uneasy. It was far too crowded for his liking.

Tensions simmered in the stagnant air, and everyone seemed to be eyeing each other warily, hands twitching near weapons. It was a powder keg waiting to ignite.

If a fight broke out now, it would be utter chaos. And they would be at a severe disadvantage—not just because of their position, but because Horizon's guild was the last unaffiliated one left.

While the 1st and 2nd-rate guilds had formed alliances, small yet significant, Horizon's team stood alone.

The silence was suffocating. A pin drop would have echoed across the desert sands. Then, suddenly, the earth trembled beneath their feet, shattering the stillness.

A deep rumble surged through the ground, growing stronger with every second.

Lydia's frown deepened as she steadied herself. "What's happening? Why is there an earthquake suddenly?"

"Look!" Silphie's voice was low and slow, her hand shooting out to point toward the horizon.

All eyes turned to where she gestured. At first, it was just a distant, shifting haze of dust. Then the sound came—shrill, unnerving screeches that cut through the rumble like nails on glass.

"What . . . is that?" Lydia whispered, her voice barely audible over the cacophony.

The answer came too soon and far too clearly. From the far end of the desert, a tide of creatures emerged.

Rats—no, not ordinary rats. These beasts were massive, their bodies as large as boars, their dark, matted fur glistening with a sickening sheen. Their red eyes burned with a feral hunger, and their serrated teeth glinted in the fading sunlight.

The horde moved as one, a living, churning mass of destruction. Everything they touched—rocks, shrubs, even weapons discarded in panic—was obliterated. Not a trace remained. Not dust, not bone. Nothing.

"Flesh-Eating Rats," Von muttered under his breath, his usual calm demeanor slipping as he gripped his gun tighter.

The first screams came from the frontlines. Someone—a mage—hurriedly launched a fireball into the swarm. The explosion lit up the desert for a brief moment, and some of the rats were incinerated. But it wasn't enough. For every rat that fell, ten more surged forward, undeterred.

"RUN!" a voice bellowed, desperate and hoarse.

Panic erupted like a chain reaction. Spells rained down on the horde—fire, ice, lightning—but they barely slowed its momentum. Players scrambled, some firing off attacks while retreating, others abandoning all pretense of bravery and fleeing outright.

Those who hesitated paid the price. A guild in the frontlines, one of the stronger 2nd-rate teams, was overwhelmed in seconds. Their coordinated efforts faltered as the rats closed in. Spells fizzled in the chaos, weapons flailed uselessly, and screams were cut short.

When the swarm passed, nothing remained. No bodies, no gear—just an eerie, empty patch of ground. The Flesh-Eating Rats left nothing behind.

"They're . . . gone," Lydia whispered, her voice trembling as she took a step back.

Enjoy new tales from empire

Lydia's breath hitched as she forced herself to look away from the carnage. "Let's get out of here!" she shouted, her voice sharp and urgent.