Day 8
A monstrous form knelt silently, towering at 3.45 meters tall. Its body was slender yet imposing, with yellowish-brown skin stretched over lean muscle. Draped over its frame was a brown leather jacket, hanging open to reveal its chest and abdomen beneath.
A wide-brimmed brown leather hat sat low on its head, casting shadows over its face. A bandana covered its mouth and nose, leaving only the eyes exposed—strange, gleaming yellow pupils against pitch-black sclera that radiated an unsettling presence.
The figure wore rugged cowboy trousers, their dusty fabric worn from travel and combat. In its hands rested an old-fashioned rifle, like those of the Wild West, the weapon looking both archaic and deadly in its grip.
The creature had its rifle aimed steadily at a low-rank monster—a birdlike beast known as a Shriekwing. Its body was lean, its wings jagged like torn leather, and its beak serrated with teeth instead of smooth keratin. A predator of the skies, but fragile compared to the monsters of higher rank.
The shot rang out sharp and clean. The bullet pierced straight through the Shriekwing's head, and the creature spiraled downward, lifeless, before hitting the ground.
The monstrous figure rose from its kneeling posture, the rifle fading from existence as it dismissed the weapon. Then, with a ripple, the towering form shifted and collapsed back into its human state.
A young man now stood there—22 years old, 1.84 meters tall. His face was neither handsome nor ugly, an ordinary visage, yet one that carried an air of kindness and serenity. His long black hair fell loosely, brushing over his ears. This was John Marston, a classmate of both Marcus and Adrian.
He exhaled deeply and said,
"Well, that should do it."
At that moment, his bracelet shimmered to life, and the number 150 glowed clearly across the screen.
John looked at the glowing screen with a small smile, satisfied with what it displayed.
For him, hunting Shriekwings was less a test of skill and more a matter of fate. His monstrous form had been made for this—eyes sharp enough to catch the slightest flutter of wings, speed quick enough to adjust his aim in an instant, and a weapon that could deliver a fatal strike before the bird even realized it was being hunted.
The Shriekwings were fast, elusive, and rare. Even for him, it had taken time to locate enough of them, as they were scattered and not overly numerous. For almost anyone else, finding one was like chasing shadows in the sky. But for John, their erratic movements were clear and predictable, as if each glide betrayed its next step. What made them untouchable to others only made them manageable for him.
He knew it wasn't just skill—it was fortune, alignment. Predator and prey. Without his sight, without his form, it would have taken him months to find even a single one, and even more to land a bullet. But with them, he was their natural enemy, the hunter that evolution had set against them.
John glanced around, the faint smile still on his face.
"Well," he said to himself, "now it's time to find a place to rest until the exam is over."
Day 9
Marcus had just shifted back into his human form. He pulled his new spear from the body of another Scalebrack.
Glancing down at his bracelet, the number 330 flashed brightly—he had already defeated nine mid-rank Scalebracks.
Marcus let out a sharp click of his tongue, a sound of mild frustration and contemplation. It wasn't that the spears simply broke from impact—rather, the tips he created with his plates seemed to grow increasingly fragile at a drastic rate, often shattering after killing only two Scalebrack.
He realized that in order to continue hunting, he would need to forge a new spear each time. It was as if the plate itself required a constant flow of ether to maintain its strength, and without it, the weapon simply couldn't endure the strain of repeated combat.
Marcus was deep in thought, contemplating a solution for his shattered spears, when a sudden roar came from his left.
Instinctively, he dove behind a tree, pressing himself against the trunk, and carefully peeked out to see what had caused the noise.
Ahead, he spotted a girl with black hair and dark eyes, sprinting desperately through the underbrush. Behind her, a giant sabertooth creature gave chase, its massive fangs gleaming as it closed the distance with terrifying speed.
Marcus recognized her immediately—it was Liora, a fellow student, caught in imminent danger.
Marcus hesitated, questioning whether it was worth intervening. Should he help her or focus on his own progress? His mind raced with possibilities and risks.
Suddenly, a beep interrupted his thoughts. Startled, he looked down at his bracelet, and to his astonishment, a hologram projected from the screen—something he had never seen it do before.
He squinted at the projection, reading the message:
Mission: Prevent Liora from being disqualified.
Reward: 100 points.
Marcus blinked, taken aback. He hadn't realized the bracelet could display missions in this way. Now, the choice seemed clearer, and the stakes had become very tangible.
Marcus gripped his spear tightly, feeling the familiar weight and reassurance of the weapon in his hands.
With a surge of ether, he shifted into his monstrous form. He towered at 3.50 meters, his musculature rippling red beneath his skin, and thick protective plates sprouted along differents parts of his body
Without hesitation, he charged toward the chase, his long strides carrying him rapidly through the underbrush, closing the distance between himself, Liora, and the pursuing sabertooth.
Once Marcus reached the optimal distance, he leapt into the air, his monstrous form propelling him with incredible power and precision.
In midair, he thrust the spear forward, aiming directly at the giant sabertooth that was closing in on Liora. Every muscle and motion was synchronized, his eyes locked on the target, ensuring that the strike would land with maximum impact and stop the predator before it could reach her.
Unfortunately, the sabertooth reacted to the whistle of the spear. With astonishing dexterity, it leapt to the right, narrowly avoiding the spear that came flying from behind.
Marcus landed lightly on the ground, recalculating instantly. The creature's reflexes were impressively sharp, and he knew he would have to adjust his approach if he wanted to protect Liora.
The sabertooth froze, its eyes locking onto the new figure that had entered the battle—Marcus, towering and formidable.
Liora seized the moment of distraction. Deducing that Marcus was on her side, she stopped fleeing and took the initiative to fight. She formed a glowing red bubble in her hand, propelling it directly at the sabertooth's face. The bubble exploded on contact, sending a shockwave through the beast.
Marcus used the disruption caused by Liora's attack to his advantage. With a powerful leap, he moved in front of her, positioning himself between Liora and the charging creature, ready to intercept and protect.
Liora glanced at him, a mix of curiosity and caution in her eyes.
"Who are you? Why are you trying to save me?" she asked.
Marcus didn't turn to face her. His eyes remained locked on the charging sabertooth, calculating its next move.
"I'm Marcus," he said calmly, ignoring the second question. He added, "Can you transform?"
The tone in his voice was steady, commanding, and focused entirely on the immediate threat before them.
Liora shook her head quickly.
"No… I can't transform. But I've gathered a little ether. Maybe I can support you from behind."
Marcus' voice came out low and sharp, still focused on the towering beast before them.
"What tier is this monster?"
Liora swallowed hard, as she kept her gaze on the creature.
"It's not a monster," she said, her voice tense. "It's a Transformer. Her name is Natalie"