"Ugh. Fuck. How long will I have to wait now?"

Roan Sol-Valis looked down at the row of candidates lined up on the forest floor, their backs pressed against the mossy trunks of ancient trees, their faces swollen and bruised beyond recognition.

There were seven of them — five humans, a beastkin with broken tusks, and an elf whose silver hair was matted with blood. None of them were dead. He had made sure of that.

Dead people couldn’t learn lessons.

"Why the fuck are you all so weak?" he said, twirling his crystal-tipped spear between his fingers like it weighed nothing. "With the confidence you all had when you jumped me, I thought maybe you were strong. I thought maybe I’d get to fight someone interesting."

One of the humans — their leader, probably, though it was hard to tell with his face swollen like that, opened his mouth to speak. His jaw quivered. His eyes darted from Roan’s face to his spear and back again.

This bastard, the leader thought, his hands shaking beneath his bound wrists. This absolute bastard. We are strong. We’ve trained our whole lives for this. But he’s not strong — he’s fucking monstrous.

"We’re sorry," the leader said, forcing a grin onto his battered face. "We didn’t know who you were. Please... please let us go. We won’t bother you again."

Roan stared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed.

"You know," he said, "I’ve heard that exact same speech four times today. Four times. You’d think by now someone would come up with something original."

He waved his hand, dismissing them. "Hush! Hush! Fuck off. All of you. Before I change my mind."

They didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet, clutching their bruised ribs and broken limbs, and disappeared into the trees like leaves blown by the wind.

Roan watched them go, then let out a long, tired yawn.

"Damn it," he whined, leaning against a tree and sliding down until he was sitting on the mossy ground. "Here I thought Aegis Academy was where all the strongest and most talented people came. But they’re all so weak. So boring. So predictable."

He didn’t realize — couldn’t realize — that they weren’t weak.

He was just that monstrous.

Roan Sol-Valis had been born with everything.

A royal family that loved him. A twin sister who understood him. A core that awakened at SSS-rank when he was ten and a path that followed at Origin-rank before he turned fifteen.

The universe had given him the best cards and watched him play them perfectly, every time, without fail.

He didn’t care about politics.

He didn’t care about the endless games the old fogies played in the council chambers, trading favors and making deals while people died in the shadows. He didn’t care about his title, his bloodline, or the weight of his family’s expectations.

He had given all of that to his sister, Lyssaria, who was better at it anyway. She had the patience for diplomacy. She had the heart for ruling.

He just wanted to fight. He just wanted to live his damn life the way he wanted to.

He wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

His parents were alive. He knew that. His father was a Transcendent-rank warrior, the kind of man who could shatter mountains with a single punch and still come home in time for dinner.

His mother was a Grandmaster-rank healer who could mend broken bones with a whisper and chase away fevers with a touch. They were strong. They were kind. They had never once looked at him like a disappointment.

And his sister, Lyssaria — his twin, his other half, the only person in the world who could make him shut up. She was somewhere in this valley right now, probably saving someone’s life or healing someone’s wounds or doing something else that was useful and boring.

Speaking of Lyssaria, he thought, pushing himself off the ground. Where is she?

He didn’t panic. He didn’t worry. He knew she was capable, more capable than most people gave her credit for. She wasn’t a fighter like him, but she was smart and resourceful and she had a core of steel beneath that gentle smile.

She’ll be fine, he told himself as he started walking. She always is.

He started walking.

The forest was dark and damp and full of things that wanted to kill him, but Roan moved through it like he was taking a stroll through his family’s gardens. He didn’t check his corners. He didn’t watch his back.

He just walked, his spear resting on his shoulder, his silver eyes scanning the trees for something interesting.

That was when he heard the sounds of fighting.

Steel against steel, the crack of bones, the wet gasp of someone dying. He moved toward the noise, his heart beating a little faster, his grip tightening on his spear.

The clearing was small, barely large enough to hold the chaos unfolding inside it. Bodies lay scattered across the grass — some human, some vampire, their blood mixing in dark pools that reflected the dim light.

Seven vampires, their fangs bared, their crimson eyes blazing with hunger, surrounded a single figure in the center.

Riven Ashford.

His ash-blonde hair was matted with sweat and blood, his steel-red eyes cold and focused, and his dual daggers moved like extensions of his arms — slashing, stabbing, parrying, never stopping. He was not just fighting.

He was dancing.

A brutal, beautiful dance where every step ended with blood and every breath was a promise of death.

The first vampire lunged at him from the left, claws extended, mouth open wide enough to show rows of sharp teeth. Riven didn’t move back. He moved forward. His left dagger came up and caught the vampire’s wrist, twisting until the bone snapped.

The creature screamed.

Riven silenced it with his right dagger buried hilt-deep in its throat. He pulled the blade out, spun on his heel, and kicked the dying vampire into another one that was rushing at him from behind. They collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and curses.

Two down. Five left.

Riven wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was the smile of someone who was exactly where he wanted to be.

The next two came at him together, trying to overwhelm him with numbers. One went high, aiming for his throat. One went low, aiming for his legs.

Riven jumped over the low attack, twisted in the air, and brought both daggers down on the high attacker’s shoulders. The blades bit deep.

The vampire howled and tried to grab him, but Riven was already gone — rolling across the ground, coming up behind the low attacker and slashing across the back of its knees. The vampire’s legs gave out.

It fell forward, and Riven drove his dagger through the back of its skull.

Four down. Three left.

The remaining three vampires hesitated. They had seen their comrades die in seconds. They had seen this human move like water and shadow. They were afraid.

Riven saw it in their eyes.

He fed on it.

He walked toward them slowly, his daggers dripping blood, his steel-red eyes burning in the dim light. His boots crunched on the grass. His shadow stretched long behind him. He looked like death walking.

The vampires broke.

Two of them turned and ran, disappearing into the trees without looking back. The third tried to run too, but Riven was faster. He threw his right dagger and watched it spin through the air, end over end, until it buried itself in the vampire’s shoulder.

The creature stumbled but kept running, crashing through the bushes, desperate to escape. Riven let it go.

He walked over to where his dagger had fallen, pulled it from the ground, and wiped the blade clean on his sleeve. He wiped the blood from his face, from his hands, from the steel of his daggers. His breathing was steady.

His heart was calm. He had just killed four vampires and chased off two more, and he looked like he had just finished a light workout.

He looked up at the shadows at the edge of the clearing. "You can come out now. I know you’re there."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Roan Sol-Valis stepped out of the darkness, his platinum hair catching the faint light, his storm-silver eyes glittering with something that looked like amusement.

His crystal-tipped spear rested on his shoulder, and his lazy grin stretched across his face like he had just watched something entertaining.

"Riven Ashford," Roan said. "That wasn’t bad. I’m surprised."

"I could say the same about you, elf." Riven didn’t sheath his daggers. "I heard you died in the northern front last year. Guess the rumors were wrong."

"The rumors were exaggerated." Roan twirled his spear and caught it. "I heard you got kicked out of your grandfather’s guild for being too arrogant. Guess those rumors were true."

Riven’s eye twitched. "I wasn’t kicked out. I left for some time."

"Same thing."

They stared at each other. The air between them grew heavy, thick with tension. These two knew each other. Not as friends. Never friends. Their families had history. Their grandfathers had fought alongside and against each other for decades.

The Ashfords and the Sol-Valis elves had an old alliance, but that didn’t mean the heirs had to like each other.

"You watched the whole fight," Riven said. "Didn’t lift a finger. I could have died."

"But you didn’t." Roan tilted his head. "You had it under control. You’re not that easy to kill, Ashford. Everyone knows that."

Riven sheathed his daggers and crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

Roan’s grin widened. "I want to fight you, my dear friend Riven."

"Tsk! We aren’t friends. And no."

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t have time for your games."

Roan laughed. It was a sharp, mocking sound. "Games? This isn’t a game, Riven. I’ve been waiting to cross blades with you for years. Ever since I heard about the grandson of the legendary Sovereign who could match elves in speed and dwarves in strength."

He stepped closer, his spear glinting. "Everyone says you’re a prodigy. I want to see for myself."

Riven’s steel-red eyes locked onto Roan’s. "And if I say no?"

"Then I’ll follow you until you say yes."

"You’re an insane bastard elf, you know that?"

"Probably." Roan replied with a grin. "Now let’s fight!"

Riven clicked his tongue. "Tch! Stop whining like a child. You’re a grown ass man."

"A grown elf, you mean. And besides..." A grin spread across his stupid face. "Let’s fight!"

Riven stared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed and pulled his daggers back out. The steel gleamed in the dim light. His expression was cold and controlled, but there was something burning behind his eyes.

Something that had been waiting for a fight like this.

"Fine," Riven said. "You want to fight? Let’s fight."

Roan’s grin sharpened into something dangerous. He lowered his spear, settling into a stance that was loose but ready, his weight balanced, his eyes never leaving Riven’s.

"Hehehe. Finally!" Roan said.

Riven’s lips twitched. "Stop it, you crazy bastard! I am getting goosebumps all over my body!"

They moved at the same time.

Riven lunged forward with his daggers, aiming for Roan’s chest. Roan sidestepped and brought his spear around in a wide arc, forcing Riven to duck. The spear whistled over his head, close enough to cut a few strands of ash-blonde hair.

Riven rolled to the side and came up slashing. Roan blocked with the shaft of his spear, the impact ringing through the clearing. Steel met crystal, and sparks flew.

They broke apart and circled each other. Neither one spoke. There was nothing left to say.

Roan attacked first this time — a thrust aimed at Riven’s throat. Riven parried with his left dagger and stabbed with his right. Roan twisted away, but the blade grazed his arm, drawing blood. He didn’t even flinch. He smiled.

"Good," he said. "Now again."

They lunged at each other.

The forest swallowed the sound of their blades.

_

[Leo’s POV]

I had been walking for hours now.

The forest all looked the same — same damn trees, same glowing moss, same shadows that seemed to move when I wasn’t looking directly at them. Of course, there were other places too like ruins or caves, but I hadn’t found them yet.

The only difference this time was the darkness. Night had fallen, and the valley had become a different beast entirely.

Fuck, I thought, stepping over a root that looked exactly like the root I had stepped over ten minutes ago. I’ve been moving in the same shitty circle again. I’m lost. Completely, utterly lost.

The bracer on my wrist pulsed, showing the countdown — five days, something hours, something minutes. I didn’t bother looking. The numbers didn’t matter when I couldn’t even find my way out of a forest that was supposed to be a mid-game area in the game.

Why the hell do these woods have to be so damn complex? I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. In the game, you just followed the minimap. Here, there is no minimap. Just trees. Endless trees.

Fucking trees that all look the same.

I had killed a dozen monsters since the exam started. Maybe more. I had stolen food from a group of candidates who had tried to jump me — hey, they started it — and I made sure they didn’t die. I even made them use their emergency teleport.

They were gone now. Safe. Probably crying somewhere.

Well, I thought, that’s a separate matter. They gave me a very hard glare before they disappeared. Worth it though. The rations were decent.

I kept walking.

The forest was quieter at night.

Not peaceful — nothing in a Forbidden Zone was peaceful — but quieter. The monsters were still out there, somewhere, but they were hunting in the shadows now, not announcing their presence with roars and howls.

The only sounds were the crunch of leaves beneath my boots and the occasional drip of water from branches so high above that I couldn’t see them.

I passed another tree. It looked familiar.

Damn it, I thought. I’ve definitely been past this place. This is the tenth time now. Tenth. I’m going in circles.

I stopped walking and looked around, trying to find anything that looked different. Nothing. Just trees and shadows and that same patch of glowing moss that I had passed three times already.

Maybe I should climb a tree, I thought. Get a better view. But what if I fall? What if there’s something in the tree? What if—

Something flew past my head.

It wasn’t a bird or a monster. A person.

A body crashed into the tree behind me with a sickening crack, and I turned to see a candidate slump to the ground, unconscious, his face swollen and his clothes torn. He wasn’t dead — I could see his chest moving — but he was definitely out of the fight.

I blinked. "Woah...."

I looked in the direction the body had come from.

A figure stood in the clearing ahead, her slate-grey hair whipping around her face, her amber-gold eyes blazing with fury.

She was tall for a beastkin, with lean muscle and sharp features, and her silver wolf ears were flattened against her skull. Her tail, thick and bushy, the color of storm clouds, lashed behind her as she squared off against the three candidates still standing.

Nyra Silverfang.

I recognized her from the game. She was one of the supporting characters, a beastkin from the wolf lineage, known for her loyalty and her quiet strength. In the game, she was easily manipulated — too trusting, too eager to please.

She had a habit of latching onto people who showed her kindness and following them into danger without question.

...And right now, she was fighting three candidates who were not fighting like normal people.

"But something is wrong." I frowned.

Their eyes were unfocused, almost glazed, and their movements were jerky — puppet-like, unnatural. They didn’t speak. They didn’t taunt. They just attacked, again and again, swinging their weapons with no regard for their own safety.

One of them lunged at Nyra, his sword aimed at her throat. She sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and threw him into a tree. Another came at her from the side, and she ducked under his swing, driving her fist into his stomach.

But there was something wrong with their eyes.

A faint purple glow — barely visible, like a seed buried deep in their pupils.

I had never seen a soul color like that before. Not grey, not dark, not amber. Something else. Something that made my chest tighten and my instincts scream.

Don’t ignore it, something whispered in the back of my mind. Look closer.

But I didn’t.

I pushed the thought aside.

It’s probably nothing, I told myself. Just exhaustion. Or the bad lighting. Or—

One of the candidates lunged at Nyra from behind, and I moved before I could think.

I crossed the clearing in three steps, grabbed the man by the collar, and slapped him across the face — hard. His head snapped to the side, and he stumbled back, his unfocused eyes blinking rapidly.

"What the—" he started, but I didn’t let him finish. I swept his legs out from under him, caught him before he hit the ground, and set him down gently against a tree. Unconscious. Not dead.

Nyra stared at me, her amber-gold eyes wide. Her ears twitched. Her tail went still.

"What are you—" she started.

"Move," I said.

She moved.

The remaining two candidates lunged at me together, and I danced between them like I had done a hundred times before. A palm strike to the chest. A kick to the knee. A twist of an arm. Within seconds, they were on the ground, groaning, their weapons scattered in the dirt.

I stood over them and looked at their eyes.

The purple glow was gone. Just... gone. Like it had never been there. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

What the hell...? I thought. What was that?

"Who are you?" Nyra’s voice was quiet, cautious. Her ears were still flat against her skull, and her tail was wrapped around her waist like a belt.

I turned to face her. "Leo. Leo von Celestial."

She stared at me for a long moment. Then her stomach growled.

Loudly.

I stared at her. She stared at me.

"..."

"..."

A silence followed between us.

Her ears flattened further. Her face flushed — a deep red that was visible even in the dim light.

"...You’re hungry. Your stomach just growled," I said, while trying to keep my face straight.

"...No. That was... a warning."

"A warning?"

"Yes. A warning that I will bite you if you don’t stop staring."

I blinked. "You’re weird."

"You’re weird," she shot back. "You just appeared out of nowhere and hit that man in the face. That was weird."

"He was about to stab you in the back."

"I could have handled it."

"Your stomach says otherwise."

Her eye twitched. "My stomach has nothing to do with this."

I sighed and reached into my void pocket, pulling out a bar of dried meat and a canteen of water. I tossed them to her. She caught them, barely, and stared at them like they were foreign objects.

"What’s this?"

"Food. Eat it. You’re no good to anyone dead."

She didn’t argue. She tore into the meat like she hadn’t eaten in days, which, knowing the exam, she probably hadn’t.

I sat down on a fallen log and watched her eat. "What happened with those guys? Why were they attacking you?"

Nyra swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and frowned. "I don’t know. They said ’follow us, we’ll bring you food.’ I followed. Then they started... acting strange."

"Strange how?"

"They said my name over and over. And their eyes — they were strange." She shuddered. "It was creepy."

Strange...? I thought.

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded.

This is going to be a long night.

Nyra finished eating and sat down on the log beside me, her tail curling around her feet. She didn’t thank me — not in words — but the way her shoulders relaxed and her ears perked up told me everything I needed to know.

In the game, Nyra was one of the most loyal characters you could recruit. She was easily manipulated, yes, but that was because she trusted too easily, not because she was weak. Once she decided you were her pack, she would die for you without hesitation.

She was also, according to the forums, a bit of a disaster. She forgot to eat. She forgot to sleep. She followed strangers into danger because she assumed everyone had good intentions.

Like a lost puppy, I thought. But with claws and teeth.

"Why are you looking at me like you’re thinking about something annoying?" Nyra asked, her amber-gold eyes narrowing.

"I’m always thinking about something annoying."

"Hmph!"

We sat in silence for a while. The forest was quiet — too quiet, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching us from the shadows.

The purple glow, I thought. The way they acted. The way their souls looked. I’ve never seen anything like that before.

What is happening in this valley...?

Fuck. Don’t jinx it, you bastard.

I stood up and stretched, my joints popping after sitting still for too long. Nyra was still sitting on the log, chewing on the last piece of dried meat I had given her, her amber-gold eyes fixed on me like she was trying to figure out a puzzle.

"Well," I said, brushing the dirt off my pants. "I’m going."

Nyra’s chewing slowed. "Going where?"

"I don’t know. But I have monsters to hunt and points to earn."

She swallowed. "But you just sat down."

"And now I’m getting up."

"That doesn’t make sense."

"It doesn’t have to." I turned to face her, keeping my voice flat. "Listen. If we meet again, we meet as enemies. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because I gave you food."

Her ears flattened against her skull. "Why...?"

"Because that’s how the exam works. We’re all competing for the same spots. Kindness doesn’t change that."

She stared at me for a long moment, her amber-gold eyes searching my face for something I couldn’t name.

"I don’t want to be your enemy," she said quietly.

"Too bad." I shrugged. "The exam doesn’t care what you want."

I turned and started walking.

"Leo," she called.

I stopped but didn’t look back.

"Don’t trust anyone," I said. "Not the candidates who smile at you. Not the ones who offer you food. Not the ones who say they want to help." I paused. "And especially not me."

"But—"

I was already gone, swallowed by the shadows between the trees.

Nyra sat alone on the log, staring at the spot where the white-haired boy had vanished, her ears flat and her tail still.

Weird, she thought. Really weird.

She finished the last bite of meat, stood up, and walked in the opposite direction.