Wanting to Surpass the MC with the Greatest Harem.
Chapter 42: First Trail.(Bonus)

Chapter 42: First Trail.(Bonus)

The sound of boots striking stone echoed across the courtyard as Dominic stepped into the training arena. The morning sun had only just begun to rise, painting the horizon in golden fire, but tension already simmered in the air like a coiled serpent.

A crowd had gathered on the elevated terraces, watching with hawk-like eyes. At the front stood Lady Fares, her arms folded elegantly, her obsidian eyes locked on Dominic.

He was shirtless, his body glistening from the early drills, muscle coiled with tension, his mind sharp. Her lust was about to increase but she did well to control it. Acting crazy in front of her subjects was going to be shameful or at least she thought.

Today was not just any test. It was his first trial as the newly appointed General of the Ghost Force.

And it wouldn’t be easy.

Twenty women stood at the opposite end of the arena, each armed and armored with precision. They wore the signature black and silver of the Ghosts—tight-fitting combat suits designed for mobility and defense, accented with shadow-threaded capes. Their boobs were exposed vividly through the tight fitting robes she wore. Their asses were as large as hell and he was beginning to get hard already.

Their faces were striking—each one beautiful in her own way. But Dominic knew better than to be swayed. These women were warriors first. Beauty was the armor they wore just as much as their blades.

A commander stepped forward, her long silver braid trailing behind her. Her eyes—icy blue—met Dominic’s with no fear. "We are the Ghost Blades," she said. "Your first trial is simple. Survive." Dominic nodded lightly.

The soldiers raised their weapons. Some held twin daggers, others curved sabers or short spears. Magic hummed faintly in the air—shadow enchantments infused in their gear.

The bell rang.

They moved.

Fast. Almost too fast.

Dominic barely stepped back as a spear sliced through the air where his chest had been a heartbeat before. He twisted, ducked, and parried a dagger swipe with his bracer, then swept low, knocking one of the women off balance. She flipped and landed cat-like, unfazed.

They surrounded him. Five moved in perfect harmony, attacking from every direction. He blocked, spun, countered—his system-enhanced reflexes barely keeping up.

One slash grazed his side. Another left a stinging welt on his shoulder. But Dominic gritted his teeth and pushed harder.

He struck with a short punch, sending one woman flying. She rolled, landed, and smirked. "You hit harder than you look, General."

Dominic smiled and smirked. He dived off towards the sixth one and swayed himself in the air to land his leg against her jaw precisely. She gave an outburst of blood instantly.

They were taunting him.

Ten minutes in, and he’d only knocked down five. Fifteen remained. Not such a good progress. He couldn’t use his abilities on them. They were women and as believed, weaker cells but that was seeming to get flawed.

He exhaled and waved his fingers. The world slowed around him for three seconds. Just this once. They were too skilled, he had to use his skills.

Three precious seconds.

He moved like lightning, sweeping three off their feet and disarming one with a clean strike. When time returned to normal, four soldiers were on the ground, stunned.

Nine down. Eleven to go.

Dominic backflipped to the edge of the arena, trying to catch his breath.

Then they changed tactics.

Ten women came at once, flipping, teleporting, striking with perfect coordination. Blades flashed. One cut across his chest. Blood stained his torso, but Dominic grinned.

He welcomed the pain. At least it meant he was alive.

He launched himself forward with a sudden roar, tackling one woman and twisting midair to throw her into two others. He grabbed a saber off the ground and used it to block twin daggers from another attacker, twisting her wrist and sending her weapon flying.

He kicked her in the stomach and used her momentum to slam her into a stone pillar.

Nine remaining.

Then a spell hit him—a shadow binding chain spell. His legs froze for a second too long.

Three of them moved in, lashing him with the weapons. It tore through his body and blood wrapped around his body.

Then in an instant he broke the spell with raw strength, shattering the chain sigil and flipping one attacker over his back. Her head hit the ground with a thud, and she groaned before falling unconscious.

He turned sharply and struck his fist against the stomach of the another. She was sent hitting against the floor. A sprain occurred immediately.

Seven.

The crowd had gone silent.

They were stunned.

Their women—the best of the Ghost Force—were falling, one by one, to a man.

But Dominic wasn’t unscathed. Blood trailed down his arm. His left side burned. His vision wavered.

Still, he smiled.

He was enjoying this.

With a feral yell, he charged the remaining seven. They clashed in a storm of steel and flesh. His blood spouting buy he didn’t mind

One by one, he found openings.

A kick here. A punch there. A disarm, a flip, a surprise strike. Even a headbutt.

Until the final woman stood.

A silent one. She had never spoken. Her hair was raven black, tied in a tight bun. She held no weapon—only her fists.

She moved like a shadow. Fast, deadly, graceful.

Their fight was brutal. She struck with pinpoint precision, aiming at pressure points. Dominic coughed blood as a strike hit his liver. He spun, caught her wrist, twisted—

But she escaped.

They traded blows. His fists to her ribs. Her knee to his chest. Elbows, slashes, palm strikes.

But Dominic was tired.

She had the advantage.

Then he remembered the lesson Lady Fares had told him but he didn’t remember how recent it was.

"A true Ghost fights in the dark. You must embrace the chaos. Think like a shadow. Move like one."

Dominic closed his eyes for a second—just one—and listened.

When the woman struck, he shifted slightly, just enough. He ducked, spun, and used her momentum to lift her, then slam her to the ground.

She hit the arena floor and didn’t rise.

The bell rang again.

Trial over.

He stood—bloodied, panting, body bruised but proud. Twenty women. Elite warriors. All defeated.

Silence.

Then—cheers erupted from the stands.

He looked up.

Lady Fares smiled from her high seat, pride burning in her eyes.

"You’ve passed," she said softly, barely audible.

Dominic nodded, wincing. "And this was just the first trial?"

She smirked.

"Indeed. Welcome to the Ghost Force,