"Now we just need one more to complete the team."
The nervousness in that group of humans was visible — not the kind that comes from inexperience, but the kind that comes from enough experience to know exactly what could go wrong. The four looked at each other with the specific frankness of people who had been together too long to fake optimism they didn't feel.
"Please let it be a warrior from a strong race."
"Shut up — do you think any warrior race is going to ally with us? What we need is an aura designer or even a decent summoner or even a healer."
"A healer? Are you crazy. If it's someone who doesn't get us killed I'll already be happy."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
The Coliseum was openly a place of many treasures and challenges — it was there that most former Lords managed to earn their living to survive inside the Oasis without having a kingdom. Like most, these former Lords who had lost their territory lived alone and needed to find ways to sustain themselves in the places that sheltered them — which always charged for lodging through small tributes or pensions paid to the local Lord. Not all of them were relevant nobles with Lord relatives willing to finance their survival and comfortable stay.
Of course other options existed — like joining the army of the Lords they were subordinate to. But it was an extremely rare choice, and the reason was obvious. Subordinate soldiers had the highest mortality rate, whether from stray creatures or the systematic bullying of other races looking for weaknesses to exploit. In the end, being in the Lord's army was one of the most dangerous choices available — and nobody made it if they could avoid it. There was also the option of actively going out through the Oasis in search of creatures that could yield Nectar Stones — but that meant accepting the possibility of encountering something too strong or too fast without the structure to survive the encounter. For the less wealthy, opportunities were few and sparse.
That was where the Coliseum shone — and became, even after the risk, the most attractive option.
The cradle of the desperate.
"Desmond, did you submit the request as tribute correctly this time?"
"Of course I did. Do you think I'm going to screw myself in this place? I'm here to survive, not to stab myself in the ass with a lance."
"Hey, you two — stop arguing. We did everything right. The tribute was given correctly and the Coliseum accepted. This place can be hell but it's fair."
"What do you think we'll be doing today, chief? Hunting or survival?"
"Could even be annihilation. As long as we have the right piece we can even try that mission."
The four humans waiting were former Lords who had lived under the same Lord for years — something rare for any other race, but not for humans. The reason was simple and brutal: it was very hard to find allies willing to risk their lives alongside humans. The race's most well-known characteristics had never been honor, strength, or innate intelligence. In the universe of the Oasis, where each race had evolved with some natural advantage — brute force, instinctive magic, longevity, physical resilience — humans had arrived without any of those things in comparable measure. What they had was adaptability. And adaptability, in the short term, looked like weakness.
With time, what remained as a survival strategy was accepting some stray newcomers from other races who didn't yet know what humans were capable of when cornered — but even that was rare and temporary. The newcomers learned. And when they learned, they moved on. It was for that reason that humans had begun allying with each other with a seriousness that other races rarely needed to develop — not by choice, but by necessity.
The answer to the problem had been the guild. It wasn't the idea of a single Lord — it was a collective conclusion that emerged from the same pain repeated in different territories over enough time for the pattern to become obvious. The guild was the only way to mitigate the risk of one human betraying another inside the Coliseum — and betrayal had historically been the greatest enemy of humans in there, more than any creature or mission. In the guild, members received behavior and capability scores — a laborious, bureaucratic system, frequently unjust in the details but correct in the structure. Before the guilds, betrayals between humans were common and the mortality rate even in relatively simple missions was high enough to make the Coliseum unviable as a sustainable source of income. With the scoring system, humans were forced to maintain a minimum of decency — because a bad score in the guild's records was a more efficient sentence than any physical punishment. Nobody accepted a partner with a bad score. Nobody entered a mission with someone who had betrayed before. The Coliseum might be accessible, but it was impossible to do alone — and alone was the fate of those who broke the pact.
One bad score and you were finished.
The region where those four lived was prosperous and safe — it was located in the largest human trading post in the area, surrounded by other human Lords, with guaranteed protection, but without the kind of resource that frontier kingdoms accumulated through battle. No creatures to hunt nearby without calculated risk. No territorial conflicts that generated spoils. The Lord they were subordinate to had been intelligent enough to realize that without wars and without the possibility of advancing in search of Nectar Stones, the only way out was to invest heavily in guilds — turning geographic limitation into specialization. Having understood his territory and its limitations, he had obliged everyone under his domain to build sufficient strength to enter the Coliseum, financed part of the entry costs, and created several human guilds in the region.
The guild paradise — that was how the kingdom had become known among the former Lords who circulated through the trading post. A pleasant name. Which didn't mean less dangerous.
"Why do we always have to wait for someone from outside?"
"Damn it, Rondon — I've told you forty times. We're not strong enough on our own, and sometimes a newcomer from the ranked races shows up. My father said that only with them will we manage to do the more dangerous and profitable missions."
"But every time either nobody comes or some idiot newcomer shows up… This is getting old."
"Rondon, my love — don't forget that you were once one of those idiot newcomers." — a pause. — "Hahahaha."
Laughter. The kind that only appears between people who had been through a lot together and had reached the point where the past was more material for comedy than for trauma.
The group was tight-knit — former Lords who had lost their territory years ago and, by luck or destiny or some combination of the two, had found each other and decided that surviving together was more efficient than surviving apart. They had entered human territory until reaching what they internally called the Shangri-La of former Lords. The four had much more experience than when they had lost their kingdoms. Certain things weren't worth dwelling on. In the end, they had accepted their fates and united in pursuit of evolution and survival.
They were very good at it.
Friends, perhaps.
"At least this time it could be some other friendlier race…"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
The problem they faced wasn't uncommon in the Coliseum — those summoned were supposed to be from the same race or partner races, which was subjective by nature, since what defined that was the Oasis. And as with so many other things, the Oasis didn't bother explaining how or which races those would be. What wasn't a secret was that humans weren't necessarily well-liked in the universe — and that reflected directly in the missions available. The strength of the human race in the Coliseum was pitiful most of the time, which meant only weak missions were made available and accepted. And there was the real problem: easy missions were safe, but they put humans in an uncomfortable position — they needed to get stronger, and easy missions made a point of not contributing to that. Over time, some had started forming smaller groups and seeking outside additions — it was one of the only ways to find, with great luck, someone capable enough to carry the entire group into more profitable missions. Rare. But always efficient when it happened.
"Look. Seems like someone is crossing the portal."
"Finally. I couldn't stand waiting anymore."
"Cross your fingers, everyone."
✦
"Why don't you want to take us?" — Morgana asked. — "I mean — we can accompany you on missions as heroes."
The Coliseum had strange but not complex rules. I could bring one hero with me — but the mission level rose proportionally to the capability of the hero brought. I could go alone on a solo mission, but would have to deal with the unknowns without proper knowledge of how the Coliseum worked in practice. Or go in a group without any hero — learn the environment first, with room to make mistakes without paying the highest price.
It wasn't the choice I liked most. But the Codex didn't explain the internal dynamics with enough detail for me to know what to expect — and entering overloaded with legendary heroines without first understanding how the missions worked seemed like a recipe for learning the hard way.
The choice was obvious.
"Girls, I need you to protect the territory while I'm away. Besides, I want to test the waters first — if I bring either of you, the mission will become much harder."
Despite appreciating Morgana and Livina's interest in accompanying me everywhere, I wanted to use the time to finally test my power under real conditions. Without a safety net. Without legendary heroines covering the gaps. After all, with the construction of the Coliseum and my access registration, I had finally unlocked what I had most wanted since arriving in the Oasis.
"Zeus. Show me my Status."
[ STATUS — Leonidas Aquiles | Lv. 1 ]
[ Strength: 1 + 8 ]
[ Intelligence: 6 ]
[ Dexterity: 2 + 6 ]
[ Agility: 2 + 2 + 2 ]
[ Magic: 2 ]
[ Aqrabuamelu — Zaetar (Unique) ]
[ Archons — Superior Healing (Legendary) ]
[ Blood Magic (Rare) ]
I was surprised by the Status function. It was a function that only unlocked upon registering at the Coliseum — that was where the adventure happened, and for that the Oasis needed a parameter of the individual's power. Not only to calibrate the available missions, but to make clear to the Lord himself how difficult certain missions would be before accepting them. It was a function beloved by everyone because it visibly showed what was gained from DNA evolution — and above all the technical capacity to visualize the evolution.
"Gaining eighteen points combining Livina and Morgana's DNA was a massive evolution."
I still remembered the pain of acquiring Morgana's power. It hadn't been as intense as with Livina — partly because I already knew what to expect, partly because the threshold Livina's power had established made everything after it comparatively manageable. It wasn't less painful. Just more bearable — which was good news. Unfortunately I still needed a few days of rest before being functional again. The other good news was having obtained Morgana's Legendary power.
[ Superior Healing (Legendary) — Extreme healing — bone recomposition and restoration. ]
Of course I had wanted to acquire her Unique power — but the Legendary already put me in the big leagues. I had two of the rarest and most sought-after powers among humans. That was a fact. But I knew I couldn't let arrogance go to my head — I was starting from the top, and that only meant the fall, if it came, would be proportionally worse.
I felt prepared. The number of points received from the DNA mix had been beyond what I had calculated as an optimistic scenario. According to what I had read, my Status was at the level of Lords and former Lords of level ten or higher — even if I were paired with a former Lord or Lord of level five, I would still stand out. That was what I was counting on.
To understand the dynamics of the Coliseum, the most logical choice was to join a group — I would most likely be paired with people with enough experience to explain how things worked in practice and what the most effective ways to evolve without wasting resources were. The Codex gave the structure. Real experience gave what the Codex didn't explain.
I just needed to be lucky enough to find a group willing to teach.
"Girls, wish me luck."
"Zeus, let me enter the Coliseum."
✦
When I entered the Coliseum, what was before me were four people — two women and two men. Fortunately I felt no nausea or strange sensation during the transport — just the portal behind me, glowing with the specific light of an entrance that hadn't yet closed, giving the only illumination to the environment.
The place was enormous but empty of intention. No windows. No decoration. Nothing that communicated purpose beyond the functional — as though the Coliseum had decided that ornament was a waste of stone that could be wall. The only entrance and exit was the portal behind me. The only thing of interest was an enormous board behind the group, covered in scrolls of various colors stuck in an order I couldn't yet read from a distance.
"So you're our last member?"
Before I finished processing the environment, the same woman who had asked the question had already advanced in my direction with the second — as though the first were rhetorical and the one that really mattered was this one.
"What's your Status and abilities?"
"Ahh… good morning to you too." — I said. — "Sorry, I'm a newcomer. What do I need to—"
"For god's sake. You've got to be kidding me."
"Damn. What terrible luck."
The two men at the back complained at the same time — with the specific synchrony of people who had been through the same disappointment so many times they no longer needed to look at each other before reacting the same way.
The woman breathed deeply. Put her hand on her head. Murmured something I preferred to pretend I hadn't heard.
Then composed herself — with the speed of someone who had learned that lamenting was a luxury the Coliseum didn't finance — and returned to her initial posture.
"Fine. If you're a newcomer, at least we'll have missions more appropriate to our level available." — she paused. — "Pleasure — my name is Cindra Wolf. My Status is 16, which represents the sum of my power. My specialty is agility."
Before I could respond, she raised her hand. A flame appeared — controlled, precise, with the quality of fire that had been domesticated through repeated use until it became an extension of the gesture.
"I learned fire magic and have danger perception power. My primordial power is Forbidden Treasure — it allows me to identify locked doors and hidden chests."
"Primordial power?"
"It's hard to explain quickly." — she said with the patience of someone who had explained this many times and had developed a compressed version. — "It's your intrinsic power — something the Oasis itself gives you, not something you choose or acquire. Honestly, even I don't completely understand how it works. What I know is that you discover it in practice and improve it as you use it."
I was pleased to join the group — in less than a minute I was already receiving information the Codex hadn't given me with the same clarity. But while she introduced the other three, one thing became increasingly clear.
They were all weak.
Not in an offensive way. In an objective way — I had done the math while listening.
"This is Rondon Vriu — Status 13, specialty in strength. His power is Strength Increase and Wind Shield. Primordial power: Challenge — something similar to provoking enemies to concentrate their focus on him."
Rondon was broad, with the kind of build that communicates weight before communicating height. He nodded briefly when his name was said — the gesture of someone accustomed to being introduced and who had stopped finding it necessary.
"This is Sabina Briman — Status 12, specialty in dexterity. Her power is Phantom Arrow and Harpy Leg. Primordial power: Premonition — a capacity not particularly long or strong, but it will help us identify danger a few seconds in advance."
Sabina was small — but her legs were bird legs, a clear mutation that communicated she had made choices most avoided. The powers didn't seem to complement each other perfectly, but everyone in the group seemed to trust that she would deliver what needed to be delivered.
"And this is Desmond Dark — Status 15, specialty split between agility and strength. His power is Vampiric Sword and Thorn Armor. Primordial power: Unrestrained Fury — something that increases Status at the cost of sanity."
"Hey — I don't go insane." — Desmond intervened. — "Actually I just lose a little control."
The look the other three gave him simultaneously communicated, without words, that they completely disagreed with that assessment. Looking at his power, I suspected he had integrated with some vampire — Vampiric Sword and Unrestrained Fury had the mark of a race that mixed brute force with predatory instinct. It made sense.
The group was well balanced between mage, archer, guardian and warrior — which made sense, because the Coliseum wasn't unfair, just honest. What was missing was someone capable of holding the front line with real damage like a summoner, or a healer who could make a difference in a critical moment. The composition worked, but had gaps that everyone seemed aware of and that I knew were hard to fill.
Then everyone looked at me.
✦
"Yes… of course. My apologies." — I said. — "My name is Leonidas Aquiles."
"Do I need to state my level?"
Cindra answered without hesitating.
"You don't need to. For us, the Oasis has always known how to level correctly — I prefer you tell me your power sum, integration ability, and primordial power. The last one you probably don't know yet, so it doesn't really matter."
"Understood."
I noted mentally: level was information that mattered little to those with real experience in the Coliseum. Good news. My low level had been the part of the Status I had expected to need to explain — and apparently I wouldn't need to.
It didn't take long for one of the men to speak after Cindra's explanation.
"For god's sake, Cindra — are we seriously going to waste time with this guy? He's clearly from the farms. What the hell is happening with the Coliseum these days? We're screwed."
"Yeah, let's just take whatever mission and get this over with."
"Hey — shut up, you two." — Cindra spoke with the specific tone of someone in command who was tired of needing to demonstrate it. — "I don't care about origins. What I care about is power."
Her irritation left me less irritated — but in the end, as she had said, power was what mattered. And that was exactly the problem: they were all weak.
"My name is Leonidas Aquiles, colony 22." — I said calmly. — "My power is 31 and my specialty is combat and support. My abilities are summoning and healing. I don't yet know what my primordial power is."
Silence.
The kind that isn't an absence of reaction but an excess of it — everyone processing at the same time and none arriving at the same conclusion.
"That's impossible."
"Healing and summoning… Shut up."
"Kick this liar out and let's call someone else."
I had expected skepticism. I hadn't expected the difference to seem so absurd to them that the first reaction would be rejection. I had underestimated how much a Status of 31 would sound impossible to those accustomed to half of that.
Then I felt Cindra's hands on my shoulders.
She was less than ten centimeters from my face — with the specific closeness of someone who had decided that normal conversation wasn't sufficient for the moment.
"Look at me carefully, boy." — her voice was low, direct, with no room for interpretation. — "You might think this is a joke. But I'm not going to die because you want to feel bigger than some nobles. If you don't tell the truth, I'll throw you out myself right now."
She was right. If someone lied to me about power in a life-or-death situation, I would never trust that person. I understood the logic. The problem was that I was telling the truth — and there was no quick way to prove it that she could accept without concrete evidence.
An idea.
"Do you have a magic potion?"
Her eyes darkened. Two seconds of silence — she was calculating.
Then she understood.
"Yes… Do it."
"What?! You're going to believe this guy?"
"There's no way in hell I'm wasting a potion on this liar."
"Shut up." — she spoke louder. One word. Enough.
Everyone went quiet.
✦
"Zaetar… Rise."
From the stone floor — without warning, without preparation, without any sign that this was about to happen — a nearly six-meter Aqrabuamelu emerged.
"HOLY SHIT!"
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
Zaetar was impressive not just for his size, but for the aggression that showed through before any movement — the kind of presence that fills the environment before the body finishes appearing. I believed he alone could eliminate everyone in that room. Together or separately.
"Zaetar. At your command."
The words entered my mind without sound — the specific communication of something that had existed long enough to no longer need intermediaries.
I knew that Zaetar alone was already enough to get me accepted into the group.
But I needed more than acceptance. I needed to make my mark — to establish from the beginning what I was capable of beyond summoning. Because in the Coliseum, summoning was offensive power. What I needed them to see was the other side.
I took the retractable bronze sword I had brought.
I cut my own arm — deeply, without hesitation, holding the pain with the coldness of someone who had calculated that this was necessary before doing it.
A green light came from my body.
Advanced over the cut.
And closed before the naked eye — not gradually, not in seconds, but with the speed of a process that had been designed for emergency, not for comfort.
I looked at the four of them.
"I think that answers your doubts."