I tore through the tall grass like a predator closing in on wounded prey. My movements were swift and precise, and the Apollo-marked boy stood no chance of escaping me.
The numbing winter wind bit into my skin, but a smile still stretched wide across my face. There was no better feeling than knowing the first step on the long, onerous path to ascension was within reach.
Ten meters.
Five meters.
When sensing danger, prey always fled before finding the courage to stand their ground. The boy stumbled, collapsing short of the treeline.
In the end, he hadn't even chosen a weapon.
My grip tightened around the katana's hilt as I brought it across my body in a horizontal slash aimed for his frail neck.
He turned, fear carved across his face, and thrust out his hand.
"Fireball!" he shouted, hoping the most common D-rank ability Apollo grants his children would save him. But no fireball came, and realization dawned on him, grim and slow.
He was dead.
Then—a flicker. Light shimmered on the shadows cast beneath the trees. A blade had caught the sun's rays, and from the angle, I knew it couldn't have been mine. I didn't stop my slash. I didn't want the onlooker to realize I'd seen them. Instead, I redirected the strike and cut cleanly through the boy's hand.
His scream split the air, and his severed hand hit the blood-soaked grass with a dull thud.
The shimmering light vanished.
Morthen, why would you not just kill the boy? If any of you asked that just now, you are simple-minded. In a perilous situation, it is always advantageous to have many options.
With the boy alive and somewhat well, there are many options for dealing with the intruder.
We are at least twenty meters from the forest. The closer you get to the forest floor, the less light makes it through the canopy. So, the reflected light could have only reached me if the person was hiding high amongst the trees.
There are a few reasons an aspirant might do this, the most problematic being an ambush designed for me.
As you know, I am the sole mark bearer of the Death God. Many of the great clans fear the unknown, and likewise, fear me. I wouldn't put it past them to stage an assassination on my life, now that I am not under the protection of the Nyx Clan.
If this is an assassination attempt, I doubt there is only one aspirant in hiding. No, the great clans would be cautious. Unlike abilities granted by Apollo or the other gods, the Death God's abilities remain a mystery. For all they know, I could breathe on them, and their life would be sucked from their soul.
I pondered for a moment before settling on a number.
Five.
If I were a Scion who had the power to authorize an attempt on my life, like a clan elder, five aspirants is the number I'd be comfortable with to get the job done.
Without immortality, I stand no chance against five enemies—especially aspirants from great clans who have had similar combat training to me.
"Spare me! Please!" the Apollo boy suddenly shouted, his left hand clutched around his bloody stump.
I met his terrified eyes with my hollow gaze. Then, before he could mutter another word, steel flashed, and his head fell from his shoulders. The sound of a cannon firing erupted through the sky, signaling the first death of the trial.
If I had sent the boy running into the forest, and no one attacked him, then I could have assumed the ambush was purposefully crafted for me. However, I am quite confident that they are indeed waiting for me. I do not need confirmation, and having his corpse is all the resource I need to stall until my immortality returns.
And if I am wrong, then nothing is lost.
Quickly, so as not to draw attention, I picked up the boy's severed hand and knelt beside the corpse. Stripping the corpse of its black combat suit, I left it without clothing. Then I reconnected its severed head with the sleeve of the combat suit by tying a tight knot around the neck.
I laughed in my heart as I thought about how ridiculous this looked. From the high branches of a massive oak, the aspirants could undoubtedly see everything.
After dipping the severed hand in the boy's pool of blood, I began drawing grotesque markings on the body. First, I drew a pentagram on the stomach, with lots of odd symbols and skulls. Periodically, I would pause and mumble a short prayer.
I continued this until I finished marking the entire front side. It had been thirty-five minutes since the trial started, and in only twenty-five minutes my immortality would return.
Although the ambushers will not wait that long, they would have attacked the moment I killed the boy if it were not for my odd ritual. You see, clan elders and clan leaders were observing the trial.
While these individuals wish for my death, they also wish to learn about the Death God. To them, my random, nonsensical ritual was insight into the Death pathway.
As long as I continued the ritual, no one would attack.
But, out of fear for my ability, in ten minutes five or so aspirants will launch an assault on me.
I sighed.
Might as well collect the core.
I stood and used my blade to carve open the boy's chest. His insides were warm, and I hated touching a wretched corpse. I removed my hand from the core, which I had been firmly grasping.
The core was slightly bigger than the heart. It was diamond-shaped and colorless, though rough and crooked in texture.
Closing my eyes, I honed in on the mana inside the core. I could feel its calm, tranquil current now that it no longer had a host.
Then I crushed it in my palm, and the supernatural energy flowed into me. One core was not enough to see an actual difference in strength or ability, but it was definitely there.
*Congratulations, Morthen! Human core found! 1/30 stored. Keep up the great work!*
The system's voice played in my head.
But I didn't have the pleasure of celebrating my accomplishment, because ten minutes had passed, and from the treeline four aspirants, all wielding different weapons, dropped from the lowest hanging branch.
I've overestimated myself. They only sent four.