Chapter 44: Trial Guardian III
Chapter 44: Trial Guardian III
As Kitsuul and Little Bluey whizzed through the air, Damian watched with wonder how she was able to float up like that with those bursts of solidified silver energies.He wondered if, in the near future, he could form platforms of silver energies on his own feet and be as graceful as her in the skies above!
A minute vanished in a blink—while silence stretched across the arena, thick with disbelief at the ridiculous battle they’d just witnessed.
Guardian Flameborn silently snorted her distaste. That girl below? Her niece. It was only right the Stackborn knew his place and didn’t stir up trouble.
"One minute has passed. Another Trial Guardian is born. Lyra Veyrin, passed."
Her voice was nonchalant, almost dismissive, as Kitsuul leapt back onto his master’s shoulders, graceful and composed. The blue slime, however, seemed reluctant to stop. It grumbled like a child denied playtime but bounced obediently to Lyra’s head at her command.
Lyra cast Damian an apologetic smile—soft, wordless—as the two left the arena.
On the sidelines, Ariana’s smile spread wide as she glanced between Lyra and Damian. "It goes without saying you’re joining us for the little celebration party, right, Lyra?"
She said it like they were old friends, like Lyra already belonged. Lyra’s gaze flickered shyly, then she nodded as Ariana continued.
"Haha, it’ll be a blast. We just need to get through the rest of these boring fights so you all can sign your contracts and settle in..."
Even as she spoke, another contender landed on the Combat Arena—and her eyes drifted, not-so-subtly, back to Damian. Like the Trial Beast Masters thought they’d found a loophole in him—a Guardian who wouldn’t completely destroy them like the others had.
Not because he was weak. But because he hadn’t really fought Lyra.
Before it could go any further—
"The selection of brand new Trial Guardians is off limits. Choose someone else!"
Guardian Flameborn’s voice cut sharp and final. The hopeful mood of the Trial Beast Masters deflated instantly.
The next few fights? Brutal. One by one, Trial Beast Masters were knocked out before the minute mark.
Out of the final four, only one remained standing.
A crimson-haired man named Vixor, late twenties, cybernetic eyes glowing faintly. His Interstellar Beast—a sleek, shadow-wrapped leopard—had granted him speed so terrifying it won him victory.
Guardian Flameborn nodded, satisfied. Her voice echoed again.
"Three new Trial Guardians. The rest of you—try again when your waiting period is up."
She clapped.
The arena buzzed as doors opened with a hiss. Three ZENTHRA employees, ordinary humans, adorned in blue ZENTHRA jackets similar to Anastasia, rushed in—each carrying a tablet the size of a clipboard.
Guardian Flameborn dismounted from her Flaming Eagle Archaeopteryx, landing lightly before the newly appointed guardians: Damian, Lyra, and Vixor.
She looked them over, eyes narrowed in appraisal, then beckoned to the employees.
"You’re lucky. Very lucky. But before you get starry-eyed over ZENTHRA, we’ve got paperwork. Your contracts."
...!
The tablets were thrust into their hands. Bold text lit up the top of the screen:
[ZENTHRA Beast Corporation Standard Guardian Contract Agreement]
It was the contract to become a guardian under ZENTHRA.
At first, they were just Trial Guardians—named so for a reason. ZENTHRA would raise them, pour in resources... but only until they reached the benchmark. That was when they’d earn their real title.
And the benchmark? Simple in theory. Brutal in practice.
Their Interstellar Beast Masters had to evolve—grow beyond the Initiate stage and become Symbiotic Resonance Interstellar Beasts.
Only then would their trial end. Only then would they truly be ZENTHRA Guardians.
Damian frowned as the tablet lit up in his hands—page after page, more than a hundred—and naturally, he started reading. But Guardian Flameborn’s voice interrupted, sharp and exasperated.
"You don’t seriously think I’m going to stand here and watch you read that entire hundred-page contract, do you? Just scroll to the bottom and sign. What—do you expect to find some wild clause and think ’Oh my goodness, I guess I won’t be signing because now I’m contractually obligated to live in Skyglass Heights forever’?"
Her irritation flared, unmistakable. Next to Damian, Lyra had already signed, scrolling to the bottom and handing her tablet back like it was nothing.
And then, softly in Damian’s ear, came Anastasia’s voice:
"I’ve reviewed it. You’ll get a welcome packet afterward with the essentials. The contract’s straightforward. Few clauses. Mostly what ZENTHRA expects from you."
A contract was a contract.
Damian wanted to read every word. Understand what he was signing. But he was making a deal with the devil—and one of the devil’s enforcers stood before him, her flaming eagle casting shadows above.
So he scrolled. All the way down.
And signed the name: Therion Dark.
Tablet returned.
Vixor followed suit.
Three new Trial Guardians—sealed by contract.
This day would be one ZENTHRA Beast Corporation would not forget.
The major shareholders. The elite Beast Masters. The boardroom decision-makers.
They’d all remember this day sometime soon in the near future!
But for now? It was just another day on the Testing Floor.
Guardian Flameborn clapped again and made for the exit, her flaming bird trailing.
"All right, follow me, little chicklings. Let me tell you what ZENTHRA really is. What we expect. And most importantly, what you need to survive."
Damian moved behind the group, watching the line of fresh-faced Trial Guardians follow her. Lyra was just ahead, her little blue slime bouncing happily beside her.
"Becca, tell our new friends the mission of ZENTHRA."
Guardian Flameborn waited for the elevator doors to open, her eyes turning to a girl mounted on a regal Rosewood Hound.
The girl’s voice was clear, proud, her Glassblood eyes sharp.
"The ZENTHRA Beast Corporation exists to dominate the frontier of evolution—bonding elite Interstellar Beasts with humanity’s fiercest survivors. In Ebonreach Metropolis, we forge living weapons, crush weakness, and rewrite genetic fate. We are not salvation. We are selection. And only the worthy will survive our trials. The rest? Extinction."
...!
The weight of her words hit hard.
This was ZENTHRA’s mission.
And as Damian stepped into the elevator beside these terrifying believers?
He couldn’t shake the feeling twisting in his gut.
He felt like an imposter among monsters.