Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Pride of Survival

The forest had transformed into a hellish arena under a bruised sky. The Shuffle Selection had evolved into a relentless gauntlet of combat, strategy, and sheer willpower. Mike, bloodied and bruised from earlier encounters, moved forward with cautious determination. Every step was a battle against exhaustion, every breath a defiant act of survival.

He recalled Lily’s harsh training and the echo of her commands: “Survive. Adapt. Never show weakness.” That mantra pulsed in his mind as he navigated a narrow trail littered with fallen leaves and shattered hopes. Around him, the chaos of combat roared—clashes of metal, snarls of beasts, and the anguished cries of combatants whose dreams were snuffed out with every death.

In the distance, he saw the remnants of a skirmish—a circle of fighters emerging from a shattered clearing. Among them, a figure stood out: Mike’s heart skipped when he caught a glimpse of Celine “Silkweaver” Cross, her silver hair shimmering in the dim light as she moved with an effortless grace. Her eyes, ever-watchful and cool, betrayed a spark of curiosity whenever they met his. For a brief moment, the blood and brutality faded, replaced by an unspoken promise that resonated deep within him. Yet, he knew the rules well: affection was a luxury in this arena.

As Mike pressed onward, he encountered a barrage of enemies. Every fight was a lesson in pain and perseverance. The forest floor became a canvas of raw brutality. In one skirmish, he was forced to face a pair of vicious duelists whose attacks blurred into a storm of blows. Despite his fatigue, Mike fought with a desperate pride. His dagger became an extension of his arm, each strike a testament to his evolving strength. When he narrowly dodged a vicious lunge that nearly ended him, he gritted his teeth and rose again. Survival was not merely about evading death—it was about overcoming the relentless onslaught that threatened to shatter him.

A sudden explosion of shouts and clashing steel drew him into a chaotic fray near a crumbling stone archway. Here, fighters collided in a frenzy of anger and fear. Mike found himself pressed against a rough boulder by a hulking adversary whose strength was nearly inhuman. Every muscle screamed in protest, but he summoned the grit forged during weeks of grueling training. With a swift, determined move, he twisted free and countered with a ferocious strike that sent his opponent staggering. The taste of victory was bitter and fleeting; each win in this hellish selection came with scars both seen and unseen.

Throughout the relentless combat, Mike’s eyes always flickered to the periphery, where Celine lingered like a silent sentinel. Her presence was a balm amid the chaos—quiet, calculating, and unyielding. He recalled the quiet whisper she once uttered, “I will only fall for him if he is strong.” Her words resonated now more than ever as he confronted not only external foes but the inner turmoil of becoming something unrecognizable in the pursuit of survival.

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