The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?

A thick, unnerving silence swallowed the arena—an abrupt stillness so profound that even the torches lining the colossal stone walls seemed to hold their flames tighter, crackling no more. The dwarven crowd, moments ago a roaring beast of jeers and laughter, now stared wide-eyed at the lone human who dared do the unthinkable.

Kyle remained with his spear still raised, his stance strong despite the overwhelming hostility pressing down on him. His blue spear hummed faintly with aura, a streak of defiance gleaming under the molten glow of the arena's central forge.

Then, the silence cracked—thin murmurs rippling throughout the packed stands.

"Is he insane?"

"Humans… always so arrogant."

"Brash whelps, thinking courage is the same as strength…"

"He pointed at an Elder… truly foolish."

Some scoffed. Some smirked. Others whispered with a hint of curiosity, even apprehension—because no one, not in decades, had ever challenged an Elder directly.

Back in the center of the arena, where the rest of the group stood, Lilliane clutched her staff closer to her chest. Her knuckles whitened, her lips pressed into a trembling line. Selena's cold composure finally cracked; worry flickered in her eyes like a faltering candle.

"Will Kyle… be alright?"

Their voices overlapped in a soft, anxious whisper.

Luca didn't turn toward them. His gaze remained fixed on Kyle—steady, unwavering—as a faint breeze carried loose strands of his dark hair across his forehead. His expression was unreadable, calm but with sharpened focus glimmering beneath the surface.

"Believe in him," he said quietly, his voice certain yet gentle. "He may seem reckless… but he's not someone who acts without purpose."

The reassurance settled them, just enough to breathe again. They exchanged glances, nodding—choosing trust over fear.

Above, on the high stone podium, the dwarven Elder Kyle had pointed at finally rose to his feet. Broad-shouldered and built like the very mountains his people carved their home from, his braided beard swung heavily with the motion. Iron-like skin, streaked with soot and scars—this was no frail councilman.

Elder Gromm Stoneback.

His arms folded over his chest, and a slow grin tugged at the corners of his rough lips—like a blacksmith who had just found a new ore worth hammering.

"So," Gromm's voice boomed across the arena, thick and gravelly, "you're certain about this… boy?"

Kyle didn't flinch. His spear lowered slightly as he took a bold step forward, a proud smirk rising on his face. Even from afar, his confidence shone clear and bright.

"There's no one else I'd rather challenge to!"

The grin on Gromm's face widened, eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and amusement—like a predator who had just been challenged by prey claiming to be a hunter.

"Very well," the Elder laughed, the sound echoing like thunder cracking against iron. "Then brace yourself! I, Gromm Stoneback, accept your challenge!"

A wave of shock tore through the stands.

"He actually accepted!"

"After so long… is it finally happening?"

"That human is done for!"

"He'll regret his words!"

Cheers, gasps, and eager anticipation surged through the arena like a rising storm. The dwarves may have mocked Kyle… but now, they were hungry to witness what came next.

The Forgeheart Crucible… had finally ignited.

The roar of the dwarven crowd surged like thunder rolling through a mountain's heart, only to dim when Elder Gromm raised a colossal hammer etched with runes that pulsed like molten magma through iron. The arena floor seemed to shiver in reverence as veins of blistering red light erupted beneath the tiles, turning cold stone into a breathing beast preparing to devour the challenger who stood upon it.

Gromm's voice, booming and ancient, cracked against the arena walls like a war cry from the gods themselves:

"Human! The first flame of the Forgeheart Crucible — the Trial of Endurance!"

Every rune in the hammer brightened. Mechanisms buried deep beneath rock and metal awakened with a grinding rumble, and suddenly the arena twisted and reshaped itself — the floor rising and falling like jagged ocean waves, walls folding inward to tighten the combate space into a vicious killing ground.

"The arena becomes a bowl of seismic fury," Gromm declared as an explosive tremor surged outward.

The ground convulsed under Kyle's boots — his knees bending instinctively, muscles screaming to hold his stance while cracks shot out in splintered lines like broken bones beneath his feet.

"Every movement triggers the wrath of the earth!"

Kyle tried to step to the side — but the floor bucked again more violently, throwing him off balance. His heel slipped over a chunk of rising stone, and panic flashed in his eyes. He forced his body to twist mid-fall —

"Stand still— and the earth punishes you!"

— and a forest of iron spikes burst upward with lethal intent. One spike scraped his forearm as he narrowly stumbled clear — a burning gash splitting open and painting his skin with fresh red.

"And at the center— the Dwarven King's Hammer falls like a dying star!"

A chilling shadow engulfed him. Kyle looked up—

BOOOOOOM!!!

A monstrous hammer of blackened metal descended like the wrath of the heavens themselves, slamming into the center of the arena with such apocalyptic force that the world itself seemed to scream. The impact crater glowed with liquid fire as the shockwave ripped outward, hurling Kyle like a ragdoll. His body skidded across the stone, ripping skin from his elbows and knees, his spear clattering far beyond reach.

Heat rolled across the battlefield like a predator tasting his fear. Kyle's lungs convulsed as he inhaled dust, pain spiking through his ribs. His heartbeat thundered in his skull.

Gromm drove his hammer into the earth again, sealing Kyle's fate with roaring finality:

"Survive. Adapt. Advance!"

Kyle forced his palms against the ground, his arms trembling violently as he tried to rise. Blood trickled from his brow into his left eye, stinging, blurring vision. Every muscle protested — but he clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached, refusing to bow to the agony.

He staggered toward his spear — but the moment his foot touched down—

THRUMMM—CRACK!

The ground erupted beneath him again. Kyle was thrown sideways, rolling relentlessly until his back slammed hard into a wall of stone. Iron spikes ripped upward exactly where he would've landed — one slicing across his shoulder as he thrust himself away again, breathing in sharp, ragged bursts.

The crowd roared at his struggle — not in support, but in merciless judgment:

"Human flesh is weak!"

"He's already broken!"

"He'll be crushed into paste!"

Selena's breath hitched. Her fingers curled tight around her chest, panic flaring in her eyes.

Lilliane's lips trembled, silently mouthing his name.

Luca's expression didn't waver. His voice was a quiet anchor beneath the storm:

"He's watching… learning. The arena is loud, but Kyle listens to the silence between its rage."

Aurelia scoffed with fierce pride, confidence glowing in her eyes like firelight reflecting off a blade:

"That stubborn idiot? He's only warming up. He'll pull victory out of hell's teeth if he has to."

Kyle inhaled sharply. The floor shifted — and he moved with it, anticipation replacing panic. Every quake that once threatened to crush him now became a burst of momentum he rode with sharpened instinct. Every spike that meant death now became a ladder of propulsion he dodged with split-second precision.

He sprinted, vaulting across rising slabs of stone that tried to betray his balance. He leapt at the perfect heartbeat before shockwaves hit, letting their force launch him through the air. A backlash of seismic force hurled him toward his spear—

—he spun mid-flight—

—and his fingers wrapped around the familiar grip—

Aura flared.

Wind gathered around the weapon, forming a piercing cyclone of blue radiance that howled like a sky-born beast.

"Sky-Piercer—"

His voice was a wounded growl —

"—STRIKE!!!"

He slammed the spear into the fractured ground as the hammer fell again—

BOOOOOM!!!

Shockwaves collided — earth roaring in opposite wills. The backlash blasted him upward like a fired projectile, sending him flying straight into the center of the arena just as the killing blow descended from above.

He landed hard — knees buckling, blood trailing from both nostrils.

Everything hurt.

Every pulse felt like fire under skin.

But he planted his feet.

He would not move.

The hammer of dwarven judgment screamed downward.

Spikes erupted all around him — a metallic cage of death closing in.

Heat scorched his face.

The weight of doom pressed against his bones—

Lilliane screamed, voice cracking:

"KYLE!!!"

The world disappeared into blinding devastation.

KAAAAA—THOOOOOM!!!

Silence followed.

Pure… suffocating… silence.

Dust swirled in a choking fog.

Somewhere… metal cracked.

A faint ember of blue light flickered.

Then—

A roar of mana tore the dust apart.

A silhouette stood tall within the impact crater—

Blood dripping.

Chest rising in shredded, uneven breaths.

Eyes burning with defiance that refused to kneel.

Kyle's spear held the hammer at bay — arms trembling violently, veins bulging, legs shaking like crumbling pillars… yet unyielding.

Stone split beneath his feet.

And still… he pushed.

He won.

The impossible — conquered by a single, stubborn heartbeat.

He raised his spear — higher… higher still… through agony that would break lesser men — and shouted through a broken smile:

"Trial… complete."

The coliseum froze — disbelief painted on every dwarven face.

Then a single pair of rough dwarven hands clapped.

Another joined.

Then a tidal wave of thunderous applause erupted, shaking the pillars of the arena itself.

Aurelia let loose a triumphant laugh, fists planted on her hips like she'd never doubted him for a second.

Luca finally exhaled — relief curling into a proud grin.

And Elder Gromm — eyes bright with warrior respect — slammed his hammer onto the podium in approval, voice booming across the arena:

"HAHAHAHAHAAAA! WHAT'S YOUR NAME, BOY?"

His voice was not mocking — it was the laughter of a warrior who had just witnessed something worth roaring about. The dwarves around him fell silent again, leaning forward, curious, begrudgingly impressed.

Kyle inhaled — once, twice — each breath a jagged blade slicing through his ribs. Sweat mixed with blood as it slid down his jaw, his palm still clenched around his spear though his knuckles had gone white with strain. His legs quivered, barely able to hold the weight of his own defiance, but he forced his back straight and his chin high.

He would not show weakness now.

Not after everything.

His voice emerged hoarse, scraped raw by grit and fire:

"Kyle… Drayden."

Two simple words.

But they resounded like a declaration.

Gromm stared at him for a long, evaluating moment — eyes narrowing as if memorizing every scar newly etched into Kyle's skin. And then—

He grinned.

A wide, tooth-baring, battle-born grin filled with genuine respect.

"Kyle Drayden…"

The name rolled from his tongue like a new legend taking its first breath.

He slammed his warhammer against the ground — a salute, a promise — firelight sparking wildly across the runes.

"I will remember it, boy!"

His voice soared through the arena like a battle song catching flame.

"And I am sure everyone else here will too!"

The crowd erupted.

This time — in honor.

Not mockery. Not doubt.

A human's name echoed proudly through dwarven halls.

Kyle Drayden.

The first human in decades — perhaps centuries —

to make the mountain roar with applause.