Did I… really grow?
The question echoed in my mind long after the five prodigies finished their battle. I kept replaying every movement, every strike, every tiny shift in their stances—movements I shouldn't have been able to follow.
But I could.
Was this… the beginning? The result of all the nights I bled and screamed and pushed myself to keep up?
A sharp whistle of steel snapped me back.
A sword shot past my cheek.
It grazed my skin, carving a thin line of blood. I jerked back in shock, adrenaline spiking as I clung to the tree trunk.
Below me, five figures stood with their weapons drawn, staring right into the canopy.
The Five Prodigies.
Liam's aura flickered faint gold.
Kai scanned the branches with sharp predator-like focus.
Arion and the girls—Aelira and Liraeth—stood ready, tension radiating from them.
Shit… this is bad.
I wasn't ready to fight them. Not here. Not yet. Not when the first trial wasn't even over. I needed point sticks, not new enemies.
Before they could pinpoint my exact spot, I launched myself off the branch, leaping deeper into the forest. Silent. Quick. Gone.
When the prodigies pushed through the brush, I was already far away.
"…Must've been a goblin or something," Kai muttered.
Aelira nodded, and they moved on.
I exhaled slowly from my new hiding spot, heart still racing.
There was no time to dwell on them.
No time to wonder how strong they were.
No time to think about how close I'd gotten to disaster.
I had one hour and thirty minutes left.
And I still needed thirteen more point sticks.
Hunting for Points
The next half hour was brutal.
Monsters everywhere. Contestants everywhere. The air screamed with combat and panic. But I stuck to the trees, killing monsters quickly and quietly. No wasted stamina. No unnecessary fights.
By the time thirty minutes passed, I had added eight more to my bag.
Fifteen point sticks.
Five left.
Just five… and I would pass. Just five… and I'd make it to Trial 2.
But then—
Nothing.
No point sticks on the ground.
No sticks dropped by monsters.
No faint glow in the bushes.
Twenty minutes.
Nothing.
My pulse quickened. I jumped down from the branches, scanning frantically.
Forty minutes left.
"Dammit…"
That's when I heard voices.
"Well, well… look who we have here."
I turned slowly.
Three boys stepped out from behind the trees. I didn't know them. But I knew the malice in their eyes instantly.
Because of Sir Zenite.
Because rumors painted me as a "commoner favored by a captain."
"Didn't expect to run into Lionhearth's little stray," one sneered. "How'd a sewage rat like you trick a captain into training you?"
I shrugged off their insults. I didn't have time for this.
They drew their swords.
"Give us your point sticks."
"No," I said, drawing mine.
I needed their sticks. I needed this.
There were three of them.
Arrogant. Loud. Cocky.
But unlike most bullies… they had the skills to back it up.
The Battle for Points
They attacked in perfect unison.
Using the trees as launch pads, ricocheting off branches, attacking from blind spots. Their rhythm was sharp—calculated. I barely blocked their strikes, and even then, shallow cuts formed on my arms and shoulders.
They were stronger than I expected.
Smarter.
Their teamwork forced me on the defensive, step by step.
If this kept up, I'd lose.
I had to separate them.
So I ran—shooting up into the branches. One of them lunged after me, faster than the others.
Perfect.
I waited until he jumped.
Then—
I kicked off the branch, crashing onto his back. He slammed into the ground with a violent thud, instantly knocked out.
Before the others turned the corner, I snatched his point sticks.
Three.
The remaining two burst in with killing intent.
One aimed for my neck. I barely blocked, pushing him back into a tree. He staggered, dazed. The last one roared:
"IT'S OVER!"
He lunged.
I dropped my sword deliberately—trapping the second guy between the blades—
and twisted aside as the final strike whistled past my face.
"Idiot," I said breathlessly. "Aim for the chest."
My fist sank into his gut. Hard.
He gagged, collapsing to his knees, vomiting violently. I knocked him out with a sharp chop before he could recover and grabbed his point sticks—
Six.
The last one was stuck between the swords. I yanked my blade free and struck cleanly at his neck. He crumpled instantly.
Eight point sticks.
I now had a total of:
32 point sticks.
Way more than enough.
With ten minutes left, I allowed myself to breathe.
I was going to pass. I did it.
On my way back toward the exam boundary, I spotted something that made my blood run cold.
Bodies.
Dozens of them.
Contestants beaten unconscious, bloodied and scattered like fallen dolls.
And Juno—
"JUNO!"
I sprinted to him. His face was bruised, his lip split, his arm twisted at an odd angle. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"S-someone came," he whimpered. "S-someone strong. They beat us all… then left…not even taking a single point stick."
I clenched my fists. Rage boiled in my stomach.
Juno held out his bag weakly.
"I only got… six points… I'm not gonna pass…"
I looked at him.
My first friend here.
Not out of pity.
Not out of obligation.
Just… because I wanted to.
I looked at the unconscious contestants around us—together they had thirty point sticks.
I took fourteen and placed them in Juno's bag.
"You pass," I said quietly.
He stared at me like I'd given him the world.
I pocketed the rest.
My total reached:
48 point sticks.
Was having this many advantageous? I didn't know.
But… I kept them anyway.
I slung Juno over my back and carried him toward the exam exit. Knight proxies were waiting with magical scanners.
Juno handed over his bag.
"Twenty," a knight confirmed. "You pass."
He was sent through a shimmering portal.
Then I stepped forward and handed my own bag over.
The knight's eyes widened.
"How many did you collect?"
"Forty-eight," I said simply.
They counted—twice—and nodded, speechless.
A moment later, the portal flared.
"Proceed to Trial Two."
I stepped into the light.