The next stage was the field of darts.
The open plane stretched wide, flanked on both sides with towering wooden poles pierced with blackened holes. Those holes weren’t empty, hidden within them were dart projectors, silent but alive, waiting for movement.
The ground was slick from the rain, puddles gleaming under the pale light of the day, and though the field looked harmless, every contestant knew it was a death trap in disguise.
Lucien’s warriors stood watch at the far ends, grim and unmoving, ready to drag out the fallen.
Contestants went through in groups of five, each separated by the towering wooden poles of darts. Some made it across… barely, with darts grazing their skin. Others dropped midway, bodies stiff as stone, their legs buckling under paralysis before they were pulled
