Present Day…
The thrill of their victory was undeniable. For a fleeting dazzling moment it prevailed.
A wave of assurance exhilarating surged through the group as they ventured further into the peculiar woods.
The overwhelming stifling fear that had wrapped around them like clothing from the moment they crossed the portal had, at last mercifully eased.
It was replaced by the thrill of survival and the strong attraction of power.
Ragnar, leading the way was almost humming with energy.
He flexed his stony forearm lifting it for his allies to see then hit it with the edge of his recovered blade creating a subdued satisfying thud.
"See? Cooperation!" he shouted, his tone louder than necessary, in the unusual buzzing stillness of the forest.
"A stone, eyes, a net and a spear, with an incredible punch " he stated, grinning at Daniel.
That massive reptile didn't stand a chance. We're a oiled machine!
Bran, trailing near Ragnar's imposing shadow even found the strength, for a grin.
The terror, in his eyes had been. He moved with his shoulders slightly less slouched, his back a touch more upright.
"You were Ragnar " he stated, his voice becoming a bit more resolute. "You just... Remained still while it bit you."
Ragnar emitted a robust chuckle.
That's all kid! Sometimes the best approach is just to resolve not to surrender.
Even Sophies pent-up strain appeared to have relaxed.
Her footsteps remained delicate and exact. The stiffness, in her shoulders had eased.
Her keen eyes, always observing contained a glint of contentment.
Only Daniel trailing behind sensed the chill lurking beneath the gained warmth of their success.
The falsehood of his D-Grade skills was a cloak he couldn't shed and each approving glance from Ragnar struck like a tiny piercing sting reminding him of the quiet growing chasm of strength that now kept him apart, from those he depended on.
He had encountered a spirit, a glimpse of potential and now he had to act satisfied with the scant remnants, from a fortunate find.
Nonetheless their assurance was delicate founded solely on one triumph.
The Verge, apparently annoyed by their jubilation promptly decided to deliver an tough lesson in humility.
The initial body was discovered a hours afterward.
Sophie as usual leading the way raised one clenched fist. The group stopped immediately the trained quiet of the academy descending.
She signaled them to come moving with deliberate and careful motions.
There, in a small clearing lit by the strange twilight of the twin suns, lay a scene of cold, almost artful violence.
A man named Daniel faintly recalled from the academy, a shouldered giant who had loudly bragged about his B-Grade 'Super Strength' during the early morning assembly was pierced.
He hovered in the air suspended three feet above the ground by the limbs of a pulsating unsettling plant.
His eyes remained fully open his expression a mask of raw shock and torment as though his final conscious realization was stunned disbelief that something as ordinary as a plant had brought about his demise.
The battle outfit he wore was. The ground, around the carnivorous plants base was stained with a dark rusty brown shade.
"That's… that's Kane " Ragnar whispered, his spirit vanishing like fog in a chilly breeze.
He was part of my training team. A complete talker,. Damn." He looked away his jaw shifting softly.
The grim reality of Instructor Rostova's words, once a harsh theory, slammed back into them with the force of a physical blow.
This wasn't a test with safety nets and proctors. This was a meat grinder, and they were all just meat.
From that point the path became increasingly horrifying.
A bit ahead they noticed the remains of another contender, a woman leaning against the trunk of a tree adorned with green swirling patterns, on its bark.
Her chest resembled a crater its wounds margins darkened and precisely closed as though something had forcefully and sharply exploded outward from inside.
Her face, the complete opposite of Kane's look of shock, was peaceful. And that, somehow, was infinitely more disturbing.
The ultimate finding shattered the bit of composure the team retained.
Huddled together in a shallow, muddy ditch, as if for a final, futile comfort, were the bodies of three more aspirants.
Their shapes were scarcely identifiable. They had merged, their gray attire and their actual flesh blending into one distorted harrowing statue of torment.
The twisted waxy mass revealed a death intensely blazing that fused their shapes into a tribute of their final dreadful moments.
It overwhelmed Bran. His complexion shifted from pale to a patchy green.
He staggered away, from the crowd covering his mouth with his hands before dropping onto his knees.
He gagged, the spasmodic sounds reverberating loudly through the forest.
Ragnar gazed at the merged forms his jaw clenched, his knuckles pale as he held the handle of his sword.
The satisfaction, from their kill had vanished completely supplanted by a grave weighty quiet.
These were not groups; they were people. People he had stood beside trained with and listened to as they boasted about the power they intended to take.
Sophie on the hand stood as a beacon of cold relentless reason, in the midst of the swelling wave of terror.
She observed Bran calmly for a time, before turning her keen gaze toward the others.
Her face was a mask of stone, her eyes hard and clear.
"Recall the words of Instructor Rostova " she said, her tone. Lacking any feeling.
It sliced through the sorrow-laden atmosphere like a fragment of descending glass.
Compassion is a weakness. Emotion is a toxin. The Blood Bath served not merely as a trial. As an inoculation. Her aim was to heal us from this.
She motioned indistinctly toward Brans figure and Ragnars somber quiet expression.
They were delicate. They were innocent. They were unlucky. We will not be any of those. We will be wise we will be careful. We will persist.
Her words were harsh, a slap of cold water to the face, but they were undeniably necessary.
They served as the lifeline that drew them away, from the brink of a overwhelming hopelessness.
This location was not Earth. The rules were different here. Mourning the dead was a luxury they simply were not allowed to indulge in.
Taking a cue, from Sophies pragmatic approach they commenced the somber yet necessary duty of looting the corpses.
Survival required utilizing every resource.
They had become scavengers rummaging through the leftovers of others unsuccessful dreams.
They moved with accuracy their hands gathering filled water bottles a few wrapped nutrition bars and a small surprisingly intact med-kit from the woman, with the hollowed chest.
Daniel acted automatically his stomach churning his thoughts dull.
From Kanes body he gently and respectfully took off an impaired yet still operational E-Grade Deflector Vest.
It was awkward. The additional security measure was invaluable. From one of the combined bodies he managed to retrieve an F-Grade Vibro-Knife its handle still faintly warm, to the touch.
When his fingers gripped the hilt, a deep instinctive craving surged inside him a desire, to any physical hunger.
He sensed it. The faint murmurs of the departed Awakened.
Their spirits were murmurs of strength nearly tangible strands of force still attached to their chilling forms.
He was able to take in their abilities merge their energy with his own and advance significantly in strength.
The impulse felt like an annoyance persistently testing the limits of his self-control.
At present he has the capability to grow more powerful.
He dared a look back. Sophie observed him her face inscrutable her eyes absorbing every detail.
Ragnar assisted a pale shaking Bran to stand up. They were standing too near each other.
They would notice. Should they glimpse a glow shimmering near his hand or catch him twitching in a manner he couldn't justify the inquiries would begin.
Displaying his power here, among the dead would be self-defeating. They wouldn't see him as a friend; rather they would view him as a creature consuming the souls of the fallen.
Muttering a harsh curse he compelled himself to look the other way.
He strode by the murmuring spirits the falsehood of his D-Grade skill weighing on him like a burdensome armor and a stifling prison.
He was leaving a feast arranged on the table. With every step he took away it felt like a surrender of the power intended to safeguard his loved ones.
Weariness started to take hold a bone-deep tiredness that even the strongest surge of adrenaline could no longer overcome.
Following hours of quiet trekking through the unfamiliar forest it was Sophies keen vision that discovered a refuge, for them.
"There " she murmured quietly her voice barely rising above a whisper. " Beyond that waterfall."
Of a waterfall there was a slow silent flow of glowing mushrooms seeping a thick shining liquid down a sharp rocky slope.
Behind the shimmering veil, hidden from sight, was the dark, welcoming entrance of a cave.
It was dry, deep and importantly easy to defend.
Within they crumpled, their final reserves of energy fading away.
Using a chemical fire-starter from one of the recovered kits they created a smokeless flame.
The gentle wavering glow chased away the gloom and provided a slight sense of warmth and solace.
They ate their gathered provisions with a taste from the aged nutrient paste, a sharp reminder of their low position, in the food hierarchy.
They chose to switch the watch duty in two-hour intervals. Daniel, whose mind was clouded with a storm of secrets, cravings and growing guilt stepped up to assume the watch.
As the others drifted into a sleep their weary bodies finally yielding, Daniel remained stationed at the caves entrance.
The world outside was a masterpiece of lethal beauty.
The strange glowing plants inside the forest gave off a light while numerous unknown stars sparkled like scattered jewels, in the dark sky.
The deep silence was broken by the drip of glowing fungi, beyond Ragnar's loud snoring and the heavy pounding of his own heartbeat.
He gripped the simple, F-Grade knife in his hand, an ordinary, weak tool for a boy with the soul of a sleeping god.