The pale morning light spilled gently over the jagged cliffs of Beastridge Mountain, casting soft gold across the moss-covered rocks and misty ravines. Luca walked alone, his twin blades strapped to his back, boots crunching softly on dew-laced leaves. A cool breeze carried the cries of distant mythical beasts—some triumphant, some sorrowful—as if the mountain itself whispered stories of bonds forged in silence.
He passed by a few students. Some stood proudly beside their contracted companions—majestic beasts that shimmered with arcane aura. Others sat in stillness, nursing wounds or simply resting, their trials either complete or still ongoing.
Luca offered quiet nods as he passed, his expression unreadable.
"Still nothing..." he muttered under his breath.
He adjusted his gloves and continued on, eyes scanning the terrain until he caught sight of a familiar silhouette near a small clearing where moonflowers still glowed faintly in the dawn.
