With a bit more struggle from the rest of the candidates, the event finally dragged to its end after nearly twenty-five grueling minutes. The last beast collapsed onto the bloodstained sand, its screech echoing faintly before silence reclaimed the arena. The crowd, who had been roaring throughout the battle, now quieted in anticipation of the verdict.
The adjudicator stepped forward, his voice clear and authoritative. "That concludes the First Trial. All participants, move to the waiting area."
The gates creaked open again, this time not to release monsters, but to guide the battered and weary hunters out. Some stumbled, leaning on their weapons; others held their injuries tight, their faces pale with exhaustion. Liam walked among them, shoulders squared despite his labored breathing. His bow still hung from his hand, streaked with blood and dust, as if it had become an extension of himself.
Avilio followed at his own pace, calm as ever. Barnacle fell in beside him, clapping a heavy hand on Avilio's shoulder. "You've got nerves of steel, kid. Most would've jumped in just to prove themselves. But you… you're holding back for something."
Avilio didn't answer. His gaze flicked instead to Liam ahead of them, the boy's back straight and unwavering.
As the candidates filed into the waiting chamber, a wide stone hall buzzing with voices, groans, and whispered boasts. Liam leaned against the wall, lips curved into the faintest smile, though his hands trembled as he set down his bow. "How much time before the announcement of the results?"
Barnacle replied, "I have done this 2 times previously. They give you 30 minutes rest and then announce the result. Excited for the next round? I am sure we will pass easily."
Liam smirked, "Nah, not much excited. I just want to see the result. I won't participate in the next round. I know I can't pass that. It's close combat. I have zero talent in that."
Barnacle was shocked, "Then why did you even participate?"
Liam replied with a smile, "I wanted to see Avilio fight. It wasn't long but it was worth it." Barnacle looked at Liam then again looked at Avilio. He was really confused. Barnacle's brows furrowed, his grip tightening on the staff as he studied Avilio. The man hadn't fought for even 1 minute in the first trial, hadn't needed to and yet this boy was speaking of him as though he'd just witnessed a legend.
"Worth it?" Barnacle finally asked, half-scoffing. "You could have burned yourself out, kid. That flame hound was about to get you. All that effort just to see him stand there with his sword on his back? You really think that's entertainment?"
Liam lifted his head, meeting Barnacle's gaze with surprising sharpness. "No. I think that's control. Anyone can swing steel at monsters until their arms give out. But standing still, knowing you don't have to prove yourself, that's harder."
Barnacle clicked his tongue, caught between irritation and reluctant respect. He glanced again at Avilio, who sat apart from them, his back against the stone wall, eyes closed as if the noise of the chamber didn't exist. For all the chaos around him, the young swordsman seemed untouchable, almost distant. Before Barnacle could press further, the adjudicator's voice echoed down the hall. "Time is up. Candidates, prepare yourselves for the verdict."
The chatter died instantly. Boots scraped against stone as everyone gathered in front of the raised dais at the end of the hall. The adjudicator stepped forward, holding a scroll in one hand. Behind him, a pair of armored guards loomed, their presence a reminder of the authority of the Hunter Academy.
"Names will be called," the adjudicator said. "If you are chosen, you advance to the Second Trial. If not, your journey ends here."
A heavy silence filled the chamber, broken only by the pounding of hearts and the ragged breaths of the exhausted. Liam pressed his lips together, steadying himself even though he had already made his decision. Barnacle straightened his shoulders, determined to hear his name. But Avilio? He opened his eyes at last, calm as ever, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips because he studied everyone during the trial and he had a clear idea who was going to pass.
The adjudicator unrolled the scroll with a sharp flick, eyes scanning the lines before his voice boomed through the chamber.
"Barnacle."
The staff-wielder exhaled in relief, a grin spreading across his face as he stepped forward with confidence.
"Mira. Jovan. Rask."
One by one, names filled the hall, each announcement followed by either cheers or groans, depending on the fate tied to it. The tension was suffocating every pause between names stretched like a blade over the necks of the waiting.
Then "Liam."
For a heartbeat, silence. Barnacle's grin faltered as he turned his head. Liam was standing still, shoulders hunched, bow hanging loosely in his hand. He didn't move toward the advancing candidates. Instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, then turned on his heel.
The crowd muttered in confusion. Some thought he hadn't heard. Others thought he had frozen from nerves. But Liam walked steadily toward the exit doors, ignoring the stares that followed him.
"Liam!" Barnacle called, disbelief lacing his tone. "What the hell are you—?"
But Liam only lifted a hand in a lazy wave, not once glancing back. The adjudicator didn't stop him. He simply resumed.
"Avilio."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, this time louder. The mysterious swordsman rose without hesitation, stepping forward, his expression unreadable. For him, there was no hesitation, no theatrics, just inevitability.
Barnacle stood there, torn between excitement for his own advancement and frustration at Liam's choice. As Avilio walked past, he caught a glimpse of that calm, unshakable aura again. The same aura Liam had spoken of. Control.
The last names were called, and the rejected shuffled away, some bitter, some in tears. Barnacle clapped Avilio's shoulder with a grin. "See you in the next round."
Avilio gave him a curt nod before the adjudicators split them into pairs and ushered them down narrow stone corridors. Each path led to a small arena, walled in and bare, save for racks of wooden weapons waiting at the center.
As Avilio stepped into his chamber, the heavy iron door slammed shut behind him. Across the room stood his opponent, a lean, sharp-eyed man with close-cropped hair and the swagger of someone who thrived in combat.
"Name's Carlo," he said, cracking his neck as his eyes swept the racks. "Let's see if what I saw was true or not."
Avilio didn't reply. His gaze flicked over the racks, and without hesitation, he reached for a wooden longsword, testing its weight with a lazy swing.
Carlo smirked. He grabbed a pair of wooden nunchaku, the chain links clattering as he twirled them expertly. "Perfect. Let's make this fun." The adjudicator's voice echoed from above, unseen:
"Second Trial - Close Combat. No magic. No ambience. Skill alone."
Carlo lowered into a stance, spinning the nunchaku in a dazzling blur. "Try not to disappoint me."
Avilio raised his wooden sword, his expression flat, almost bored. Yet in the faint shift of his shoulders, the tilt of his blade, there was a quiet promise, he had no intention of dragging this fight out. The bell rang.
Carlo exploded forward, nunchaku whistling through the air in a storm of arcs and feints, testing Avilio's defense. The judges beyond the chamber walls murmured with excitement, watching through slits carved into the stone.
But Avilio didn't flinch. His eyes tracked every movement, every angle of Carlo's assault, as though he were studying not fighting. Then, with a single step, he moved. The wooden blade lashed out in a precise arc, not at Carlo's weapon, but at his stance cutting into the rhythm of his movement. The clash of wood on wood cracked through the arena.
Carlo staggered back, his grin faltering. "Heh… sharp eyes. But let's see how you deal with this!" He lunged again, the nunchaku whirling in a deadly storm.
Avilio's grip tightened on the hilt. His patience hadn't flared, but every fiber of him radiated calm inevitability. This wasn't a contest of skill anymore. It was a countdown. Carlo lunged again, his nunchaku snapping down in a blur.
Avilio shifted half a step, blade cutting diagonally. The wooden sword struck the chain just as Carlo swung, snapping the weapon wide and exposing his side.
Before Carlo could react, Avilio's follow-up was already there, one fluid strike to the ribs, another to the shoulder, and finally the tip of the wooden blade pressed at his throat. The entire exchange took less than three seconds.
Carlo froze, his grin gone, eyes wide with disbelief. The nunchaku slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor.
"Winner - Avilio," the adjudicator's voice boomed overhead.
Avilio lowered the sword without a word, turning his back as Carlo staggered away, clutching his ribs. Avilio set the wooden sword back on the rack and waited calmly by the door, as if nothing had happened. To him, the fight was already forgotten.
As Avilio stepped out of the chamber, silence followed him, broken only by the murmurs that trailed like a shadow. He barely noticed. Outside in the waiting zone, there was no one. None has finished this round with such ease.
Meanwhile across the other rooms, the dull thuds of combat echoed as Barnacle's fight raged. The trials weren't over. This was only the beginning.