Chapter 36: The Joker’s Game.
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The Moment Arthur stepped in level 41 the air around him was hot, and suffocating. The ground beneath him was an endless sea of shifting sand dunes, stretching far beyond what his eyes could see. The sky above had an eerie, dark orange hue, as if it were perpetually on the cusp of a storm, but the winds barely stirred the desert. It was a vast, desolate wasteland, the kind that could drive anyone insane with its emptiness, but Arthur remained grounded.
He squinted into the distance, noticing faint ancient runes carved into the sand, barely visible unless you knew where to look. They seemed to pulse with a magical energy, faint yet undeniably present. The heat from the sand underfoot didn't faze him; The Mana kept him shielded from the oppressive temperature. It didn't take long for him to realize the place felt familiar he had seen this before, or at least something similar that he read about.
As he walked deeper into the desert, the realization hit him. The runes weren't just scattered; they were forming a pattern, a series of sigils that reminded him of an ancient ritual, something tied to magic itself. The air seemed to shimmer, as if the fabric of reality was barely holding itself together in this place.
"A trial of magic..." Arthur muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he took in his surroundings. "Looks like I'm in for something bigger than just brute force here."
The system notification came soon after, flashing with its usual prompt: