The sky was still pale when Zor stood at the edge of the path that led out of Dagan's Rest. The morning mist curled around his feet, cool and gentle, like the world itself was saying goodbye.
He tightened the straps of his satchel, checked the dagger at his side, and turned back one last time.
Arden stood at the cabin door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. His eyes were red, though he tried not to show it.
Zor ran to him and wrapped his arms around his waist, squeezing tight.
"I'll go now, Father," Zor said, his voice muffled against Arden's shirt. "I'll do my best. I'll make you proud. And I'll come back—I promise."
Arden placed a hand on the back of Zor's head.
"I know you will," he said softly. "Be careful, Zor. Do your best. I'll believe in you… even from far away."
They held each other for one more moment. Then, without another word, Zor turned and walked down the path.
Arden watched until his son vanished over the hill.
Zor's steps were light, his eyes wide with wonder. The world looked different now—not because the trees or fields had changed, but because he had. Every step forward was a step into the unknown.
He passed by a merchant cart pulled by a slow-moving ox. The merchant, an old woman with a thick scarf, waved at him.
"You headed to the Capital, boy?" she called out. "You can ride in the back if you like."
Zor smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, but I'll walk."
The merchant blinked, surprised. "It's half a day's walk, at least!"
"I know," he said cheerfully. "But I'm saving my coins for something more important."
The merchant laughed and waved him off. "You adventurer types sure are strange!"
Zor kept walking, humming a quiet tune. His boots kicked up small puffs of dust as he passed through farmlands and patches of forest. He ate sparingly—just a strip of dried meat and a bit of bread—and refilled his flask at a small stream.
Every bird's song felt like music. Every gust of wind felt like a friend.
But even in that joy, there was a quiet weight pressing on his heart. He missed Arden already.
Still, he pressed on.
By the time the sun reached its peak, the road began to widen, and distant structures rose from the horizon—tall walls, high towers, and crowds of people.
The Capital.
And just beyond those walls, the Adventurer's Guild Grounds, where the strongest and bravest from all continents would gather.
Zor took a deep breath.
His adventure had only just begun.
Zor stood in awe as he passed through the massive stone gates of the Capital.
Guards in polished armor stood like statues, watching every person who came and went. Caravans rolled by, pulling crates of goods. People from all walks of life bustled past—nobles in silk robes, traders shouting prices, and even cloaked figures with swords at their backs.
But Zor barely noticed any of it. His eyes were locked on the large banners flapping in the wind.
"Adventurer Trials — Registration Open"
He wasn't the only one heading there. Ahead of him, he saw dozens—no, maybe hundreds—of others. Young and old. Some wore simple clothes like him, others had cloaks, staffs, or small weapons. Some looked confident. Others looked nervous.
They were all there for the same reason.
Zor approached one of the guards near the inner walls. The man had a heavy halberd and a trimmed beard.
"Excuse me," Zor said, standing straight. "Where's the registration area for the adventurer exam?"
The guard looked him over—likely surprised at how young he was. But he didn't laugh or scold. He simply nodded and pointed. "That way. South courtyard, under the black tent."
Zor bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir."
He followed the crowd and soon found himself in a long line beneath a towering black canopy. Tables were lined up with parchment, quills, and strange ink pots. Behind them were several officials—some young, some old—but the one in front of him was a thin old woman, her silver hair tied into a high bun, eyes sharp like a hawk.
When it was finally his turn, she looked at him with an amused smile.
"My, my. So young," she said slowly, voice smooth but sharp. "Name?"
"Zor."
She wrote it down without asking more.
Then, she pushed a piece of parchment toward him—covered in dense writing—and slid a small glass quill and an inkwell across the table.
"This is the contract," she said. "Read it first. Take your time. You only sign once you agree to everything. Once you sign… there is no turning back."
Her tone grew colder. "This is not a game, boy."
Zor didn't flinch. He sat down at the reading bench.
Though he had never been to school, Arden had taught him how to read and write. More than that, Zor had a sharp mind. The words weren't easy, but he understood them.
"By signing this contract, you agree to participate in the Adventurer's Trials, an event sanctioned by the Five Guild Banners.
The risks include—but are not limited to—emotional distress, permanent injury, limb loss, curse affliction, or death.
You accept that the organizers are not liable for any physical or magical harm you may suffer.
This contract is legally and magically binding.
Withdrawal is not permitted once the trials begin."
He kept reading until the very last line:
"By signing, you agree to walk into danger willingly, for the chance to awaken your true self."
Zor felt a chill crawl up his spine.
He gripped the quill.
He didn't have armor, or a powerful family, or anything fancy. But he had something else.
A reason.
He dipped the quill in ink.
And with firm, steady hands, he signed his name: ZOR.
The paper glowed faintly, then sealed itself in a quiet flash of red light.
The old woman nodded. "Welcome to the Trials."
After a few hours, a loud announcement echoed throughout the city square:
"To all registered examinees, please proceed quietly to the indoor arena. Orientation for the Adventurer's Exam will now begin."
Zor's heart jumped. His hands were clammy, but his eyes were full of excitement.
He joined the steady stream of people heading into the massive structure—a dome-shaped arena with towering stone walls. As he walked, Zor felt a strange mix of fear and thrill. He was here. Really here.
But then something made him stop mid-step.
Just a few paces ahead, a girl, only slightly taller than him, walked with quiet confidence. She had short brown hair, sharp amber eyes, and a blade sheathed across her back. Zor blinked. She looked... young, but not at all ordinary.
He hurried forward. "Hi."
She glanced at him sideways. "You do realize this exam is dangerous, right? Why are you here, kid?"
Zor chuckled nervously. "Uh... well, I'm trying to find my estranged parents. Kinda dramatic, huh?"
The girl stopped walking and looked him over, her eyes narrowing. "A kid like you should be playing with sticks, not chasing down danger. And yet, here you are. Searching for your parents in a death trial."
There was no judgment in her voice—just honesty.
"Come," she said. "Walk beside me. I'll protect you if it comes to that. Let's just hope we both survive this."
Zor blinked. "Oh—thank you! May I ask... who are you?"
She kept walking. "My name's Ikana, from Sharnah Village."
Then she added, almost under her breath, "I came here for revenge."
Zor opened his mouth, unsure if he should ask more—but something in her tone told him not to.
"I'm Zor," he said instead.
They walked together in silence until they reached the entrance of the arena.
Inside, the air was heavy. All the windows were sealed with thick metal, and the doors slammed shut behind them with a loud echo. The place felt more like a prison than a training ground. The high ceiling echoed with murmurs—some excited, some fearful.
Hundreds of examinees sat on the cold stone floor, watching the center stage.
Then, with a snap, a spotlight beamed down onto the middle of the arena.
A man in a sleek black suit stood underneath it, smiling brightly.
"Greetings, everyone!" he announced with exaggerated cheer. "I am Mr. Mik, your first examiner—or, as some call me, the 'Orotor' of this year's Adventurer Exam!"
The light followed him as he walked slowly in a circle.
"We are thrilled to see such interest! Over one thousand of you came from across the five known continents. No fees, no restrictions! But you may be wondering... why now?"
He paused, smile fading slightly.
"Because... we need you. In the last five years, too many of our adventurers have died, retired, or gone insane. The world is more dangerous than ever. And we need new blood."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"That said, we did not expect this number of applicants. So, please be patient while we adjust. Think of this moment as... an opportunity to consider your decision."
He pointed toward a heavy iron door at the far end of the arena. It slowly creaked open. Behind it stood a muscular guard, arms crossed and silent.
"If anyone wishes to leave, that door is your exit. But be warned: once you leave, there is no coming back."
The spotlight vanished. Mr. Mik disappeared into the darkness as quietly as he came.
At first, no one moved.
Some people sat quietly. Others whispered. A few nervously eyed the open exit.
Hours passed.
A man in the crowd finally stood, walked toward the door, and shouted, "How long are we going to wait here?! It's been hours!"
The guard didn't respond.
Another woman approached. "Okay, I get it—we can't leave and come back. But seriously, is there a bathroom in here?! I need to pee!"
Again, silence.
More hours passed.
Some people lay on the floor. Others paced. The complaints grew louder, angrier. Hunger and fatigue started to wear people down. A few eyed each other suspiciously.
But not Zor and Ikana.
They sat quietly against the arena wall.
After a while, Ikana muttered, "Idiots. They don't even realize the exam already started."
Zor looked at her, confused. "Huh?"
She leaned closer. "Didn't you catch it? Mr. Mik said they weren't prepared for this number of applicants. That's why they left that door open. It's a filter—this is the first trial."
Zor's eyes widened. "So... waiting is the test?"
Ikana nodded. "They're testing patience, endurance, and awareness. People who can't even handle this will never survive the real thing."
Zor's jaw dropped. "Whoa. That's clever. But… do they expect people to just give up?"
Ikana looked up at the ceiling. "Maybe. Or maybe they're waiting for the number to drop to a manageable size. They might keep us here for days, weeks, or months until only the strongest—or most stubborn—are left."
Zor swallowed hard. "That's... insane."
He quietly reached into his satchel and pulled out a strip of jerky, chewing slowly. He had water too—thank the stars. Then he looked around.
People were growing restless. Hungry. Tired.
Ikana leaned in again. "If you've got food, hide it. Soon enough, people will get desperate. Some may try to steal. Some might already know this is part of the exam. They'll act smarter. Quieter."
Zor tightened his bag.
The arena was no longer a place of waiting.
It was now a battlefield of the mind.