In the hours that followed, Tagatha poured herself into preparation for tomorrow. She ate like a beast starved for days, devouring plate after plate of food with almost alarming hunger, as if trying to make up for the sheer lack of nutrition that her body had endured. Whatever mysterious method had healed her earlier had certainly saved her life, but it came at a price: her skin was unnaturally pale, her lips parched, and every cell in her body screamed for hydration. But she didn't complain. She survived.
Life had shifted into motion again.
Her sister Lynthia had been constantly around to make sure Tagatha was fine, slipping her everything she might need. Healing salves. Revitalization vials. Even adrenaline boosters. Their mother, Luna, had contributed in her own way. A royal alchemist, Luna was a walking trove of knowledge when it came to concoctions and crystals, and she'd entrusted Tagatha with a full belt of high-grade potion bottles, each labeled in her unique script.
"You won't run out," Luna had said pressing them into her hands. "Not for a while, at least."
And then there was her father.
She had braced herself for disappointment, for reprimand due to her idiotic actions. But instead… he simply smiled.
No anger. No lectures.
And when she stepped forward hesitating only for a moment, she surprised even herself by wrapping her arms around him in a sudden, heartfelt hug. She didn't quite know why. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe gratitude. Maybe both. But it felt right.
He'd returned the gesture, wordlessly, and then handed her the armor.
The very same set he'd been crafting for her birthday… Only now, it had been further enhanced. Reinforced plating. Better elemental resistance. Light, but far more durable than before. It shimmered faintly with layered enchantments.
But that wasn't all.
Her old rapier, once her pride, had been lost but her father had already figured that… how, she didn't know. The new rapier was unlike anything she'd ever held. Sleek and elegant, its blade was forged with a high-grade alloy inscribed with luminous golden runes running the length of its edge, pulsating faintly with energy. The guard was adorned with a fan of embedded crystals, orange, yellow, green, blue, red, and purple, each attuned to a specific elemental spectrum, allowing the weapon to channel different magical properties with a thought.
Tagatha had stared at it, stunned into silence. Her father... had gone all out.
To complete the gift, he'd given her a set of enchanted rings, storage artifacts, each attuned to her mana signature. One held spare crystals, carefully sorted by element and potency. Another was packed with potions, both healing and enhancements. And the third... contained combat techniques embedded with minor spells that she could activate mid-battle. Techniques that would otherwise require months to master could now be used in emergency situations with a flick of her finger.
For the first time in a long while, Tagatha felt ready.
And then... the day arrived.
Dawn crept over the horizon, casting a soft golden hue across the courtyard as Tagatha stepped outside. The chill of early morning kissed her skin as she adjusted the last few buckles and clasps of her new combat attire.
Her father's craftsmanship was unmistakably her fathers. The outfit was... functional, certainly. It had been engineered to endure travel across varied terrains—deserts, mountains, forests—and was made of a special fabric blend that flexed with her movements while providing elemental resistance. But it was also... undeniably revealing.
The top was a cropped, sleeveless black bodysuit, reinforced with golden thread lining along the seams. It hugged her torso snugly, emphasizing her growing curves. A translucent, silver-etched mesh wrapped around her midsection like a corset, displaying just enough of her toned abdomen to border the line between being good for battle or for attracting unwanted attention.
Her lower half was clad in sleek obsidian thigh-high boots, each trimmed in silver alloy plates and enchanted for swift movement. Her shorts, if they could be called that, were jet-black tactical silk, high-cut and connected by twin belts that hung with small scroll tubes and sheaths. A long, flowing half-cape trailed from her left hip, shifting colors depending on the angle of light, designed to disrupt visual tracking and cover her blind side.
Fingerless gloves wrapped her arms, and across her shoulders hung a light jacket, open at the front, with runic patterns burned into the lining to offer some mild magical resistance.
Every piece of the ensemble had been designed with performance in mind. But the way it clung to her figure, the way it moved with her... It was no accident. Her father may have been giving her everything she needed to survive—but he was still a nobleman. A traditional one at that.
Fourteen was the age of eligibility in some noble circles. Seventeen or eighteen was when most daughters were married off in royal houses. She knew what he was thinking. Better she catches someone strong and capable… than someone unworthy of her.
Tagatha rolled her eyes, still... it was hard to argue with the quality.
Under the midmorning glow of Oferatia's twin suns, the gates of the estate stood wide open, the silver lattice reflecting dappled rays onto the cobbled path where two figures waited patiently, Lynthia and Luna, her sister and mother respectively.
From the upper stairway of the estate's manor house, Tylian stood tall, his arms crossed, the wind slightly tugging at his long, silver-blue cloak. As Tagatha descended the marble steps, her new armor glinting faintly with magical energy, he silently watched every step she took. When she reached the final step, he extended a hand, placing it gently atop her head. His hand was large, warm, calloused from decades of sword work, yet unshaking as it rested there.
"I expect you to pass," he said plainly, though his eyes betrayed a deep ocean of conflicted emotions, disapproval, concern, all swimming beneath the surface.
Tagatha looked away almost bashfully, her cheeks tinged pink. "I'll… do my best," she murmured, uncertain why such a familiar gesture from her father was suddenly making her feel like it was the first time she'd ever received it. There was something different in his touch this time, softer, almost apologetic, as though this was a goodbye disguised as encouragement.
Tylian gave a slow, approving nod before stepping back, his arms falling to his sides as he silently allowed his daughter to go.
With a quiet inhale, Tagatha turned on her heel and made her way down the estate's stone path. Her new boots, runes at the soles and enchanted with kinetic amplifiers sparked faintly with magical circuitry, pulsing with light under each step as she approached the outer gates. Lynthia was the first to intercept her, practically leaping into her arms with a bright grin.
"You got this, sis! I'll be watching, so you better knock those demon beasts dead!" she cheered, her arms tightly wrapped around Tagatha's waist, her head pressing against the chestplate.
Tagatha couldn't help but smile, gently patting Lynthia's hair. "I plan to," she replied, the events of the last day having sharpened her focus like a whetstone on a dull blade.
Luna stepped forward next. The alchemist's long hair fluttered lightly in the breeze. Without a word, she leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to the center of Tagatha's forehead. That single gesture made Tagatha's heart jolt in her chest.
"I'm so proud of you…" Luna said gently, her hand brushing along Tagatha's cheek. Tagatha opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Her throat clenched, her eyes stung. Somehow, her mother's pride hurt more than a scolding would have.
"Just… focus on survival, okay?" Luna said as she locked eyes with tagatha, making sure her words reached her. "I don't care how you do it. Come home to me. I believe in you… but don't die for this dream. Please, hun…"
Tagatha stood still for a moment, letting those words settle into the marrow of her bones. There was no shame or guilt in them, only love. The kind of love that could burn you if you stood too close, yet leave you frozen if you strayed too far.
"I will, Mom," she said, standing up straighter. "I promise."
"Good," Luna nodded. "Now go show them what you're made of."
With her mother's voice echoing in her head and her family's faith like a fire in her chest, Tagatha nodded once. She tapped the sigil on her right boot, activating the enchantment. A brief surge of light erupted beneath her, sending her forward in a high-speed dash, her figure streaking like a blur through the estate's street and beyond. Her long coat flared behind her like wings, the intricate runes on her armor glowing rhythmically with each pulse of movement as she accelerated toward her destination.
The bridge.
The same one where everything had nearly ended and where everything would now begin again.
Tagatha soared through the sky, her body cloaked in the faint glow of her enchanted boots, and immediately noticed the vast shift in atmosphere. The streets were no longer occupied by civilians or bustling merchants selling their goods on open displays. no, now they were dense with movement, but of a very different kind. Guards clad in partial ceremonial armor escorted carts and carriages laden with high-grade equipment, wrapped bundles of materials, and crates marked with royal emblems. Some moved with urgency, others with calculated precision. They were clearing the way, directing traffic and maintaining order.
They're clearing the streets so the military can fully settle in... setting up formation matrixes, backup reinforcements, healers on standby, and recovery tents too. Probably more than that... Tagatha thought, her gray eyes trailing the motions of a unit carefully guiding a crystal-laden cart down a dirt-worn path. I knew the military took up a third of the city for the raid evaluations... but seeing it this close, like this, is something else entirely.
As she soared higher for a better view, the full scale of preparation unfolded below her.
The bridge, the designated testing site and grass field, was now fully locked down. Huge, semi-transparent barriers of reinforced spiritual energy enclosed the entire structure, wrapping it in a circle that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. But it wasn't just the bridge. Similar fortified zones were scattered around the perimeter, containment barriers housing groups of young participants, all dressed in light combat attire or royal training uniforms. None of them appeared older than seventeen, and some looked barely past thirteen. A reminder that this was still, technically, a youth evaluation.
But it was what surrounded those groups that sent a cold tingle down Tagatha's spine.
Hunters.
Men and women in pitch-black tuxedos stood still around each outer barrier and the forest's edge like a silent wall. Their outfits seemed plain at a glance, no armor, no visible weapons but every single thread on them thrummed with dense enchantments. Their suits were enchanted so heavily that the very air around them shimmered faintly, like heat waves dancing off steel. Their eyes scanned constantly. Runes were carved into the earth beneath their feet, and more hovered midair, complex spellwork floating like glowing scripture in languages long dead. Tagatha couldn't read them, but their intensity made her skin prickle.
Even without movement, she could feel it, none of these Hunters were weak. In fact, they may have been the most terrifying part of this entire scene.
They're not here to test us, she realized. They're here to make sure nothing gets in or worse—nothing gets out.
Slowly descending, she hovered down to the closest cluster of people and touched down near one of the Hunters. She wasn't sure where to go, and she didn't exactly want to stand around looking lost in front of the others.
The Hunter glanced her way.
He stood at an imposing 5'11", a commanding figure that radiated seasoned authority. His frame was lean but muscular, the type of build carved from years of strict, militant training. His skin was tanned from sun exposure, and his wild, curly black hair had a distinct streak of crimson slicing down the front, brushing over one eye. A long, faded scar carved across his left eye, and both his eyes glowed a dim, eerie red. His aura alone made her breath catch. The tuxedo he wore bore the official golden sigil of the Solis Kingdom on the shoulder and chest, with a polished nameplate embedded just beneath it. It shone faintly, engraved with etchings of rank… Mid C.
Gathering herself, Tagatha approached him, adjusting her stance. "U-uh... sir? Would you mind telling me where I'm supposed to go? Do I register or something?"
The man lowered his gaze to her, eyes unreadable.
"Ah. You must be one of the participants," he said. "Yes, head to the group over there." He gestured casually to a large tent just beyond the field. "That's where physical and magical assessments take place. They'll determine what group you're best suited for. After that, proceed to the main tent to register and receive your evaluation card and wristband. Once that's done, you'll be escorted to the bridge with the others."
Tagatha glanced toward the large tent. Behind it, she noticed another barrier like the one on the bridge, less grand, but just as complex. More students were gathered there, some stretching, others reviewing spellbooks.
"Okay. Thank you!" she replied, bowing her head slightly before she turned away.
The Hunter gave a shallow nod, his eyes briefly scanning her back as she left. Barely any spiritual energy… seems they're letting anyone apply these days...
She approached the tent cautiously. As she stepped inside, the opposite flap rustled and opened, revealing the waiting area, if it could even be called that. A mixture of students filled the space, gathered in small clusters, talking among themselves. Others stood off to the side in silence, either observing or too nervous to speak. Tagatha didn't know anyone here. She didn't know who to talk to or if she should talk to anyone at all. Her gaze briefly skimmed the room before she quietly moved to a wooden bench tucked away near the edge of the tent, one not yet claimed.
Beyond the crowded group of students, separated by a thin white line painted across the dirt, sat something far more imposing: a massive machine. It hovered slightly off the ground in a controlled anti-gravitational field. Its body was an obsidian-black orb, perfectly spherical, with faint glass-like properties that shimmered under the tent's ambient light. Embedded into its center was a single yellow crystal and a glowing hexagonal rune, rotating slowly like a lens being focused.
Behind the machine was a large, open dirt field. It was barren except for a long, weapon rack standing like a skeletal altar to battle. Every type of weapon was lined up with perfect precision: longswords, sabers, rapiers, short blades, spears, staffs, bracers, bows, bisentos, and countless other tools of war. Every one of them looked sharpened, maintained, and real, not replicas or training props.
Guess this is where we pick our weapon, Tagatha thought, her eyes flicking across the display. She tried not to let her nerves show. She kept to herself, assuming they would be called when the time came. So she waited.
"Hey!"
Then a voice cut through her thoughts like a sudden gust of wind, sharp enough to make her flinch slightly in her seat.
"Oh, my bad—didn't mean to scare ya."
Tagatha glanced up, on edge. A woman stood over her. No—tall, not just standing, towering. She had to be around six feet tall, maybe a touch more. Quite rare for a woman in the Solis Kingdom. Her presence alone made Tagatha straighten instinctively, not from fear but from the sheer unfamiliarity of being approached.
She had deep black hair, smooth and glossy, braided down her back in a disciplined weave. The braid stopped just short of her waist, and not a single hair was out of place. Her outfit was entirely black and tight-fitting the kind designed for efficiency in movement and silence in execution. From the looks of it, she was a close-combat fighter or assassin type. Someone who preferred ambushes or hit-and-run tactics.
Her eyes were unsettling in an oddly captivating way, pure black pupils ringed with a faint neon orange glow. That subtle illumination gave the sense that she could see more than she should, or that her gaze could pierce into your intentions if she focused hard enough. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain-like, but not sickly. It was unmarred, perfect even, no scars, no blemishes, not even a freckle. Like something molded rather than natural
Her figure was curvaceous, noticeable even under the tactical attire but it was the kind of body forged through combat, not pampered nobility. Toned muscle rested beneath those curves, no doubt.
Tagatha blinked. I didn't even notice her approaching… how weird.
"It's fine…" she replied carefully, clearly skeptical. "What did you need?"
"Nothing," the woman said with a relaxed smile, rubbing the back of her neck. "Just saw you sitting alone, not packed into a five-man squad yelling at full volume. Figured I'd say hey. I can't stand big groups either."
Then she extended a hand toward Tagatha. "Nice to see another girl just chillin' on her own, y'know?"
Tagatha hesitated. The gesture was disarming… but she didn't trust it right away. She'd been raised to be cautious. Still, she slowly reached out and shook the offered hand, watching closely for any twitch or trap though she found nothing.
"Thanks… I guess?" she said awkwardly. "My name's Tagatha. And you?"
"Ohhh, right—duh. I should've started with that. Name's Sara Illsputan," she said with a grin. "Of the Illsputan bloodline."
Illsputan...? Ah... One of the newer generations of royal lineage, Tagatha thought to herself. That means her great-grandfather must've been the one who established their family's noble house. Huh... they stirred up quite a commotion for only being around a single century.
"Wow... Illsputan. I've heard a lot about your family," Tagatha said, giving Sara a subtle glance as the tall girl took a seat beside her, letting out a long exhale as she leaned back against the bench and looked up toward the sky.
Sara waved a hand dismissively. "Don't let it mean too much. Last thing I need is someone trying to kiss my feet just because of a last name," she said, her voice light with sarcasm, as if she had given this speech before.
That got a small chuckle out of Tagatha. Even her own family was older than Sara's, technically speaking, so worship was far from her mind. Still, the Illsputan family was well-known for one massive reason: they'd produced a genuine beast tamer, an incredibly rare and revered classification. It wasn't just some glorified pet trainer either. A true beast tamer could bond with spirit beasts and command them, even utilize their traits and abilities so long as the bond held. It was a talent so rare that it was estimated to occur in only one out of every hundred twenty thousand people, if that.
No wonder they're climbing the noble ladder so fast.
"I see," Tagatha said, shifting slightly on the bench. "So then, why did you join the trial? You don't seem too thrilled about being here."
Sara snorted, rolling her neck. "Oh, I'm here because I have to be. Some stepping stone nonsense. I need this trial under my belt if I want to get into one of the major academies. Not really my dream or anything, but my dad's been breathing down my neck about it. Eventually, I just got tired of the nagging." She exhaled with a sigh that sounded all too practiced.
Lucky, Tagatha thought bitterly, lips twitching at the irony. For someone like Sara, this was just an annoying checkbox to tick off, a formality. For Tagatha, this was the foundation of everything she'd been working toward.
"And you?" Sara asked, glancing sideways at her.
"I want to become a Spirit Hunter," Tagatha replied without hesitation. "This trial is required... unfortunately." She gave a small laugh, trying to sound casual.
Sara's brow lifted slightly, a flicker of genuine interest breaking through her expression. "Really? A Spirit Hunter, huh... You've definitely got the build for it, but damn, that's not exactly a casual career path."
"Yeah... they're rare. Our kingdom only has a good number because of the academies," Tagatha began, her voice lowering slightly with a trace of solemnity. Her gaze drifted down to the rings on her fingers, their metallic surfaces catching the dull light. "But in terms of spirit hunters as a percentage of the actual population? It's less than ten percent—probably closer to five when you exclude the ones who dropped out or didn't rank high. And for high-rankers—S-Rank, A-Rank, it's practically nonexistent. Being a spirit hunter... it's basically a death sentence."
Despite her words, she smiled faintly. "But I still want to do it."
Sara looked over at her, eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity, then softening with something understanding. "Huh… you must be walking around with one hell of a death wish or something... But I won't judge you. If that's what you really want, then more power to you. I'm sure there's a reason behind it," she said, offering a small but sincere smile.
Before either could say another word, a voice cut through the air, that instantly pulled everyone's attention. Conversations ceased, movement halted. Every head turned toward the source, including theirs.
Hovering just above the field was a tall man dressed in a pristine black tuxedo, a figure whose presence exuded quiet but undeniable power. His hair, once black, was streaked with patches of grey that gave him a seasoned, dignified appearance. A thick beard concealed most of his lower face, but it couldn't hide the sharpness in his expression or the way he held himself, straight-backed, arms behind him, as though standing atop air itself.
Literally.
He was floating, standing upon the open air like it was solid ground.
"Attention, attendants," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the entire training grounds. "I will only explain this once, so I expect you to listen carefully. You're all here to undergo evaluation tests. These are mandatory, and they are designed to determine your role classification within a squad."
Tagatha leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as she focused on the man. Even from this distance, she could see the golden rings on his fingers as he snapped them sharply. At the sound, a black sphere stationed beside him pulsed, and a golden holographic projection flared into existence above it. The projection shifted and formed into the shape of a training dummy.
"The first test: Physical Output," he continued. "Each of you will throw a single punch at the dummy, no spiritual energy, no enhancement. Raw strength only. We need to measure your baseline output."
He snapped his fingers again, and the image flickered, changing shape. This time, it revealed an array of strange constructs: turrets made from solid earth, each topped with differently colored crystals—one orange, one green, and one glowing a soft blue.
"The second test: Reflex and Reaction," he said. "These turrets will fire at you from multiple angles. The more you dodge, the faster they'll fire. They won't cause harm, but being struck will be recorded. The purpose of this test is to track your reaction speed and evasion instincts under pressure."
The projection shifted a final time. Now it displayed an image of a weapon rack beside a smooth, obsidian-colored orb that sat upon a pedestal.
"The third and final test," he said. "Each of you will place your hand on the orb. It will read your energy type, latent affinities, spiritual density, and fighting aptitude. From that, it will generate a detailed assessment of your combat style, unique traits, classification, and stats. The results will be printed onto a slip, which you will present at the tent on your way out. There, you'll receive your wristband and group assignment."
Tagatha blinked, caught off guard by how straightforward it all sounded. That's… surprisingly efficient. So it's less about passing or failing, and more about role optimization. Makes sense. They probably want to prevent teams full of assassins or support classes with no frontline power. A balanced squad would last longer in the field. Honestly, that's pretty smart.
"Any questions?" the man asked, eyes sweeping across the crowd.
A girl with vivid orange hair raised her hand. He gave a subtle nod.
"What's the board there for?" she asked, pointing toward a large, narrow display situated beside the floating orb. From where Tagatha sat, she could barely make it out, obscured by distance and the angle.
"That board is for projecting the top scorers in each category," he replied. "Only the top five in each, and it's primarily for military records. Don't concern yourselves with it."
Tagatha shifted her posture, curiosity getting the better of her. She leaned to the side, trying to catch a clearer glimpse of the board in question. Even from this distance, she could now make out that it was divided into multiple sections, each marked with a different label: Physical Strength, Magical Output, Unique Traits, Battle Intelligence.
Huh… she mused internally, eyes narrowing slightly. So even if it's not about rankings, they're still keeping track. Makes sense. The military probably watches these like hawks for recruitment. This board was probably for those who didn't pass the evaluation.
Tagatha thought to herself. Even if they failed the test, anyone with absurd stats or unique traits might still be scouted based on what's listed here.
Draken took a moment to scan the field before snapping his fingers sharply. At his command, the first few participants stepped forward. The training grounds were already divided into designated sections, groups of five at a time would be tested, and each group would rotate through three distinct areas. Once a group finished the first section, they would move on to the second, and so on.
The field itself was massive, easily stretching over 40 feet wide and perhaps 30 feet long, if not larger. It was clear this place was built to handle combat drills and evaluation trials on a serious scale.
Only about thirty candidates were present at the moment, but Tagatha knew it wasn't because of low turnout. They were split in halves: one group tested earlier , the other was now. She had just barely made it into the second group after the first had cleared out. So all in all, there were likely around sixty participants total, just not all at once.
Sara crossed her arms and exhaled with a bored sigh. "So, since we're here, who do you think's gonna top the board in each category?"
Tagatha was caught off guard by the question. She turned toward the giant evaluation board, it was blank now, likely cleared after the first group's scores were recorded and reviewed. "I don't really know anyone here," she admitted honestly. "So… it's hard to say."
Sara bumped her shoulder playfully. "Oh, come onnn. Just based on looks or family names or something! A bunch of people here are flashing their family crests like they're wearing royal sigils."
Tagatha sighed and took a moment to scan the surrounding groups. Most of the participants didn't look particularly exceptional. There were a few from newer bloodlines and some who had the look of hardened military trainees, but no one really stood out in a glaring way. So, she decided to make an educated guess.
"Him," she finally said, nodding toward a brown-haired boy in the second group. "I'll say he'll score highest in physical stats."
He was clearly the most heavily built participant in their batch. A massive broadsword rested against his back, and aside from a pair of plated leggings and one shoulder guard, his upper body was almost completely exposed, displaying muscles that looked sculpted out of raw effort and pride.
Sara raised a brow and let out a low whistle. "Sheesh... guy's nothing but muscle, huh?"
Tagatha chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I think he's trying to intimidate people before the test even starts."
Sara smirked. "Or he's hoping the sun reflects off his abs and blinds the instructors into giving him a better score."
Tagatha grinned at that, but her eyes lingered on the boy for a moment longer. There was something about the way he stood, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, completely relaxed despite the pressure in the air. He wasn't just proud. He was confident. Maybe he had the strength to back it up.
Then her gaze drifted, eyes scanning the rest of the field. There were clusters of candidates chatting quietly, stretching, or meditating. A few were alone, siilent, composed, focused. One girl in particular caught her eye. She stood with her arms behind her back, posture perfect, her uniform tailored with subtle but intricate embroidery that hinted at nobility. A polished sword hung at her side, untouched but perfectly balanced.
Tagatha glanced towards Sara. "What about you? You've been people-watching longer than I have."
Sara perked up. "Hmm, okay. Let's see…" She looked around with a gleam of amusement in her eyes. "Alright. That guy over there, he's tall with spiky hair, sleeveless jacket. He's got mana suppression earrings and his boots are way too high-end for someone low-rank. I'd bet he's a caster or support type from a bloodline or something."
Tagatha followed her gaze. "That's… oddly specific."
"I'm observant," Sara said proudly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "He'll probably top the magic charts."
At that moment, Draken's voice rang out across the field.
"First group! Section A! Begin!"
Five candidates stepped forward into the open space of the first section. The ground beneath them shimmered faintly—magic matrixes activating, setting the stage. One by one, each of them took a position within their marked circle.
The atmosphere changed instantly. All idle chatter ceased as a tense silence fell over the training grounds.
A shimmering panel lit up in the air above the testing area, transparent but visible to all. It displayed categories—Physical Strength, Agility, Mana Capacity, Spell Efficiency, Combat Instinct, and Spirit Pressure—each with its own meter that flickered in anticipation.
Sara leaned in slightly, as she whispered to Tagatha. "Wanna make a bet? Loser has to buy snacks."
Tagatha cracked a smile. "You're on."