The massive iron-wood gates of the Gloom-Weave Forest groaned open, exhaling a mist that smelled of damp earth and ancient magic. Beyond the threshold lay a labyrinth of gargantuan trees whose canopy was so dense it choked the sunlight into a permanent, eerie twilight.
"The rules are absolute," the Head Proctor's voice boomed from the battlements. "One thousand enter. One hundred remain. To pass, you must seize the name tags of your peers. One tag ensures survival; more tags ensure a bounty of spirit stones and rare elixirs. You have forty-eight hours. Begin!"
The crowd surged forward like a dam breaking. Lucas didn't join the initial chaotic sprint. He watched the two clan geniuses disappear into the brush. Kaelen Sky-Rupture took to the low-hanging branches, his feathered cloak shimmering as he moved with the speed of a gale. Elara Everbloom moved with a serene, almost floating grace, her Dryad familiar trailing emerald vines that seemed to part the thorns for her.
"Let them tire themselves out," Lucas whispered to Moxie. "We're going to the center."
The forest was a theater of screams and clashing mana. Within the first six hours, the 10% passing rate felt like a cruel joke. Lucas moved through the undergrowth with a silence that shouldn't belong to a human. Through his Eye Skill, the "Gloom" was irrelevant. He didn't see shadows; he saw heat signatures and mana flows.
He encountered his first group near a black-water stream—four students from a minor sect attempting to corner a lone girl.
"Moxie, Cognitive Static."
A ripple of distorted air expanded from the Sphinx. The four attackers suddenly froze, their eyes glazing over as they began to strike at invisible phantoms. Lucas moved through them like a ghost, his hand blurring as he snatched the tags from their belts. He didn't even draw his blade. By the time they regained their senses, Lucas was gone, leaving them tagless and disqualified.
Deep in the heart of the forest, Lucas stumbled upon Elara Everbloom. She was surrounded by six aggressive fighters. Her dryad had woven a massive dome of briars to protect her, but the pressure was mounting.
Lucas watched from a high branch. Elara was breathtaking—her hair the color of fresh moss and eyes like forest pools. Her demeanor was naturally gentle, almost fragile, but as a spiked hammer slammed against her vines, she forced a fierce, terrifying glare onto her face. It was a mask, a desperate attempt to look like a predator to keep the vultures at bay.
"Back off!" she hissed, her voice trembling slightly despite the fire in her eyes. "Or the forest will bury you!"
The attackers laughed, but their laughter died when a sudden, violet weight crushed their minds. Lucas dropped from the trees, landing silently behind them.
"Five seconds to leave your tags and run," Lucas said, his voice cold.
Seeing the Blue-tier "Fox" master, the group scrambled. Lucas looked at Elara. For a moment, the fierce mask slipped, revealing a girl who looked exhausted and overwhelmed.
"I don't need your help," she snapped, quickly re-adjusting her "fierce" expression.
"I didn't do it for you," Lucas lied, pocketing the discarded tags. "I did it for the loot."
As the forty-eighth hour approached, the remaining participants converged on the Central Obelisk. The forest floor was littered with the "fallen," and the air was thick with the scent of spent mana.
Kaelen Sky-Rupture sat atop the obelisk's entrance, his Storm-Winged Peregrine clutching a massive ring of stolen tags. He looked like a king presiding over a battlefield.
"Is that all?" Kaelen mocked, looking at the ragged line of survivors. "I have eighty tags. I am the apex of this batch!"
"Eighty? That's a cute number," Lucas's voice drifted from the tree line.
Lucas walked into the clearing. He didn't look tired. He didn't look hunted. He looked like he had been taking a stroll. Behind him, Moxie's two tails swayed with a lethal rhythm. Lucas reached into his satchel and produced three massive rings of tags.
The proctor's jaw dropped. "Participant Lucas... two hundred and forty-two tags."
The clearing went silent. Kaelen's face twisted into a mask of pure rage. He launched himself from the obelisk, his Peregrine wreathed in lightning. "You cheated! No commoner can hunt that many!"
Lucas didn't even flinch. He simply tapped the floor of his Pagoda. Through the bond, a fraction of Nyxia's draconic frost leaked out into his palm. As Kaelen neared, Lucas swiped his hand through the air, leaving a trail of absolute-zero frost that froze the Peregrine's wings solid in mid-air.
Kaelen tumbled into the dirt, sliding to a stop at Lucas's feet.
"Strength isn't measured by your clan name, Kaelen," Lucas said, stepping over him to hand his tags to the proctor. "It's measured by what you're willing to do when the lights go out."
As the trial ends, the Head Proctor stood at the base of the tower, recording the final standings.
Lucas (The Sentinel): 242 Tags.
Reward: Grade-A Spirit Stone, 1 million Academy Credits, and a "General-Rank" Beast Core.
Kaelen Sky-Rupture (The Reaper): 86 Tags.
Reward: Grade-B Spirit Stone and 500,000 Credits.
Elara Everbloom (The Weaver): 74 Tags.
Reward: Grade-B Spirit Stone and 300,000 Credits.
Elara walked past Lucas, her fierce mask finally gone, replaced by a look of genuine curiosity and a hint of respect. "You're a strange one, Lucas," she whispered as they entered the Academy gates. "But don't think I'll let you stay ahead for long."
Lucas felt the white snake on his wrist pulse with amusement. He looked up at the spires of Aetheria. He had entered as a ghost, but he was leaving the forest as the undisputed top of his class.