HU. HU. HU. HU. HU. HU. HU.

The crowd's guttural chants reverberated through the basin at my acceptance, weapons hammering against shields, feet striking the ground in perfect sync. The sound rolled like thunder, and the Chieftain stood tall above it all, unmoved, silver eyes looking over everything.

Then, his gaze shifted to the other youths behind me. His meaning was clear.

Their heads hung low. One by one, they slunk away, slipping into the audience like shadows swallowed by firelight. Not a word. Not a complaint. Their chance would come later.

The Chieftain's voice rose above the chants, cutting through the thunder like steel.

"Fill the circle. Fifteen must stand. Fifteen shall face."

His tone left no room for interpretation. This was not suggestion---it was law.

Names were spoken. Each one like a drumbeat.

One by one, warriors stepped forward. Not children this time. Men and women, hardened, their steps deliberate. Most looked mid-twenties, their bodies already molded by years of battle.

Silver-Ranked Hunters, all of them.

The first was a broad man with a necklace of beast fangs strung across his chest, the skull of some horned predator fashioned into his pauldron. His machete was chipped, not scarred, but molded into a serrated edge through years of endless use.

Another was a woman with a shaved head, twin scars clawing down one cheek. She carried a spear carved from a single length of bone, the tip wrapped in bands of blue metal that glowed faint under the suns.

A third, muscular but lean, had wrapped his arms from wrist to shoulder in thick leather, his knuckles bare. No weapon but the weight of his fists. His eyes burned with the kind of madness that didn't need a blade.

The names went on. One after another until fourteen stood. The fifteenth slot was mine.

The chants didn't stop, but they twisted. Carried by whispers, voices bleeding through the din.

"All of them…"

"…the strongest Silver Ranks we have."

"The Chieftain pits him against our best."

"The Chieftain wishes to crush him!"

"Nay! He wishes to test him!"

The crowd knew. They knew this wasn't for fairness. This was for a true measure of my strength and value.

I sighed.

Just look what you've gone and gotten yourself into, Axel.

I ran the scenario in my head again, trying to judge what I could have done differently.

Should I not have acted? Should I have let the boy die..? No. The data I had at the time gave no indication it was a trial. All external cues pointed to a genuine threat. Intervention was the most logical choice.

I would do it all again, given the same data. I had done the right thing. And yet...the right thing...wasn't always the best...was it?

I turned, gaze flicking back to the border where I'd left the cub. My eyes darted left, then right. Nothing.

My chest tightened, head swiveling around as the panic mounted.

Where---

"Fear not, outsider."

The Chieftain's calm voice cut clean through the panic.

"Your bond is safe."

Bond…?

The word caught. Heavy.

And the crowd seized it like wolves scenting meat.

"He is bonded?"

"An Outsider? Bonded?"

"Rare. Unheard of."

The chants faltered, replaced with suspicion, disbelief, the low buzz of an audience questioning the shape of the story before them.

The Chieftain silenced them with a raised hand.

"Let it be carved in the marrow of this day---A Trial of Blood, A judgement, true and final, of this ignorant offender."

He slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, head turned up to the sky.

"Great Mother. Bless these grounds with your grace, protect our children, that they may fight unhindered, grant them strength, grant them speed, grant them mind, for they are yours, as much as mine."

The basin itself seemed to shudder in response, gold lines flashing alive beneath our feet, racing out in jagged patterns until the entire hollow thrummed with power once more. The crowd's primal chants faltered into silence, as though the land itself was holding its breath.

"Let the Trials...Begin."

The hills wavered, then peeled backwards, the basin within spreading wider and wider, creating space vast enough for a runway, as the crowd was shrouded once more. Illusion masked all proof of presence behind a skin of false ridges, and a perfect silence returned.

And then, the ground shook.

I readied myself, grip tightening around the haft of my axe as I looked around at the other Hunters, fourteen strong, each one laser-focused.

We waited, and then a wall at the far end of the basin split open, stone groaning as the hills parted, and the darkness beyond stirred.

Sound. Slithering. Scale over stone. The dry rasp of something colossal dragging over the ground.

It emerged.

Its body poured into the arena like a living river, red upon red upon red. Scales rippled in shifting shades, scarlet to crimson to dark wine, flashing metallic when the suns caught them. Its head alone was the size of a car, its jaw thick with jagged fangs that glistened with venom, as a forked tongue slipped in and out, tasting the air in search of prey alongside bright green, slitted eyes.

Appraisal.

[Crimson Plague Serpent (Crisis)(Lv.5)]

It's fang-line maw opened wide as it slithered forth, and a roar followed, guttural and grinding.

The Wildlings charged.

The fourteen Silver Ranks moved as one, their formation snapping into place without a word. Two spear-wielders harried its flanks, keeping the head occupied. Three with swords hacked for the coils, loosening scales. Archers loosed shafts tipped in bone that sparked blue as they struck. The brawler lunged straight in, fists hammering with a strange yellow energy, driving into the beasts softer underbelly. They wove together in perfect rhythm, blades and bodies circling, every strike setting up the next.

I pushed in---

A greatsword-wielder slid past, his blade arcing with uncanny timing, as it struck my axe's trajectory instead of the Beast's.

I dismissed him for a fool, then lunged back in, straight for the beast's flank, but two spears locked in before me, their points crisscrossing as if by accident, barring my path toward the beast.

I frowned. But tried again regardless.

A third attempt. I rushed around them, circling the battle, then darting in, only for a shield-bearer to shoulder straight into me in an attempt to escape the beast's erratic tail.

Every time. I was pushed out. Not by accident.

This was by design.

Every gap closed before I could slide through. Every rhythm shifted away the moment I leaned in. It wasn't like fighting with Freya's party. Their coordination wasn't meant to include. It was meant to exclude.

I saw it then.

Smiles. Small, sharp, cutting. Glances flicked my way mid-strike. Insult. Ridicule.

I laughed. A quiet, humorless sound.

Fine. I'll play your game.

A twisted grin took shape as I focused on the Red-black within me.

But I'll be playing it my way.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.