The Wilds did not announce themselves with a border.

  They swallowed the land.

  The sky darkened first. Trees twisted. The air felt alive.

  Kaelen walked between Roric Varn and Vex Morcant.

  The Null-Step Boots rendered him eerily silent.

  The Spear of the Sanguine rested in his hand, shortened to two feet.

  Roric broke the silence.

  “These next seven months will not be about power.”

  “Then what?”

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  “Restraint.”

  Vex chuckled. “And obedience.”

  They stopped at the edge of a ravine.

  Mist glowed faintly red.

  Bones littered the ground.

  “From this moment forward,” Roric said, “every fight has rules.”

  “You don’t choose them,” Vex added. “We do.”

  “One weapon. Or one ability. Or none at all.”

  Kaelen frowned. “And if I break the rule?”

  Roric smiled thinly.

  “You bleed.”

  Vex’s grin widened. “Or die.”

  Kaelen exhaled.

  “What’s the rule for the first fight?”

  “The spear,” Roric said.

  The mist shifted.

  Three shapes emerged.

  A Gravehorn Behemoth.

  A Voidspine Reaver.

  And a Blood-Tide Alpha Wolf.

  All Tier 3.

  “You will fight all three,” Roric said calmly.

  “At once?” Kaelen asked.

  “Yes.”

  “No lightning,” Vex said. “No shadow. No blood manipulation.”

  “Only the spear,” Roric finished.

  The Alpha Wolf howled.

  Kaelen’s instincts screamed for power.

  He denied them.

  Instead—

  Lengthen.

  The spear extended instantly.

  Kaelen stepped forward.

  Low stance. Balanced.

  No system.

  No shortcuts.

  Just skill.

  Kaelen Volkov raised the Spear of the Sanguine.

  And charged.