As the dust settled on the training grounds, a heavy silence descended upon the crowd. The initial thrill of the day's proceedings dimmed quickly, overshadowed by the grim reality of the situation. Out of the 300 aspirants who had taken the test, five had tragically lost their lives. The air thickened with sorrow, murmurs spreading among the gathered trainees, their faces reflecting disbelief.
Vaden stood amid the throngs, grappling with the weight of the day. "How is it that they have so many wolves?" he wondered. Memories of their fierce battles wound through his mind, the shadowy figures lurking in the arena. A fellow trainee leaned closer, his voice low and tense, revealing that these were no ordinary beasts but lesser undead, conjured by a mad mage's dark magic. The knowledge sent a chill through Vaden; this was more than just a test of skill—it was a fight against darkness itself.
Amid the murmurs, the man with the scarred nose, an imposing figure, rose once more, clipboard in hand. His gaze swept across the crowd, and he called, "Alric!"
Vaden felt a jolt within him, surprise mixed with a resigned acknowledgment of his new name. "Alric," he thought, sighing internally. It still felt strange, a new identity that hadn't yet settled within him. But there was no longer time to ponder; he stepped into the arena, the weight of expectation pressing down on him.
As he stood face-to-face with the undead wolf, the arena was filled with an unsettling stillness. The creature emerged from the shadows, a grotesque amalgamation of muscle and rotting flesh, its glowing red eyes fixed intently on Vaden. He gripped his sword tightly—his first time wielding a weapon, and every ounce of it felt foreign and heavy in his inexperienced hands.
When the signal to begin sounded, panic blossomed in his chest. The wolf lunged forward with unprecedented speed, and Vaden's first instinct was to dodge. He miscalculated his timing, stumbling back instead of dodging to the side. The wolf snapped its jaws perilously close, and Vaden barely managed to avoid its teeth.
His first strike was a wild swing, driven more by fear than skill, missing the beast entirely. The crowd watched in tense silence as Vaden struggled to find his footing. For a moment, doubt clawed at him. *Was he really cut out for this?*
But then, amidst the chaos, something within him stirred. He caught sight of the faint energy emanating from the creature—a dark, swirling aura that pulsed with its movements. His perception sharpened; he could sense the rhythmic nature of the beast's attacks. It wasn't an awakening of any trained skill, but a new awareness that flickered to life.
Still, it didn't come immediately. Vaden felt every bruise and scrape as if they penetrated deeper than flesh. As the wolf charged again, teeth bared, he managed to parry its attack, though the force nearly knocked him off his feet. His arm throbbed where the impact had landed, but he steadied himself, gritting his teeth against the pain.
With each passing moment, he fought against his fear and inexperience. As he focused on steadying his breath, he began to tune in more deeply to the energy around him. The beast's movements became clearer, almost predictable. It was as if he were finally beginning to weave the strands of battle together.
Then, as the wolf darted in once more, Vaden seized the opportunity. He recalled his training with the sword's weight, even though it was limited, and felt a surge of strength rising within him. In a desperate move, he swung his sword with newfound clarity. With a shout, he poured every ounce of his strength into the strike, channeling the adrenaline coursing through his body.
The blade met its target with a sickening thud, cutting through the beast's throat. In that instant, he felt a jolt run through him, reverberating in his arm, pain mixing with an unexpected rush of triumph as the wolf's head fell to the ground, followed by its lifeless body.
The crowd remained silent, the air thick with the aftermath of battle. Vaden stood, chest heaving, caught between relief and disbelief. It had been his first encounter in combat, and though he had faced panic and uncertainty, he had emerged victorious. This was just the beginning, he realized, a small step towards the warrior he had yet to fully understand.
As he caught his breath and looked out at the crowd, he felt the stirrings of purpose deep within him. *Perhaps Alric was someone he could grow into... someone strong enough to fight against the darkness that awaited him.*
After a while, Vaden felt the usual throbbing in his arm ease, replaced by a remarkable sense of vitality that coursed through his body. The demon blood had done its work, knitting flesh and sinew back together, leaving him surprisingly unscathed despite the encounter. As he absorbed this newfound energy, his mind turned toward the others he had met in the cave.
He scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces among the surviving trainees. His heart sank as he realized that, aside from Sirius, two others had made it through the harrowing tests: Oliver was now going by Rowan, and Ivy had taken on the name Arya. The others—those he had shared fleeting moments of camaraderie with—were nowhere to be found. The reality of survival cut deeper than the physical wounds he had just healed.
Just then, the man with the scar on his nose stepped back into the forefront, gathering the attention of the weary but eager trainees. His demeanor shifted, becoming more authoritative, and he addressed the group with a voice that commanded respect.
"Well done, kids. You can now proudly call yourselves our trainees," he began, a hint of sternness in his tone.
Vaden felt a swell of pride at the acknowledgment, mingled with relief that they had made it thus far. However, the man continued, his expression hardening slightly. "But don't think you're out of the woods yet. There are still more tests ahead to strengthen you."
The weight of his words hung in the air, a reminder of the trials they had already faced and the ones yet to come. Vaden exchanged glances with Rowan and Arya, seeing the determination reflected in their eyes, inspiring him to embrace what lay ahead.
"Your training begins early tomorrow," the man continued, his voice firm and unyielding. "Lateness will not be tolerated."
With that, he turned and strode away, leaving the trainees to digest his words.
Vaden took a deep breath, feeling a sense of resolve building within him. He was not just Alric, the novice; he was part of a team, a group of warriors destined to face whatever challenges the future held. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of their true training.
The trials were far from over, but Vaden stood ready to embrace whatever awaited him.
________________________________________
In a more secluded corner of a city, within an imposing stone building embellished with runic inscriptions, a man sat at an intricately carved desk. The golden light from enchanted lanterns flickered gently around him, casting shadows that danced upon the walls. He was a man of power, seasoned by experience and responsibility, his expression pensive as he listened to the reports being relayed by a group of uniformed officers.
"Sir," one of the officers began, presenting a neatly folded parchment while maintaining military precision. "We have compiled the latest reports on the missing teenagers. It appears that several cases have been filed over the past few months, and as of now, we have no leads—no trace whatsoever."
Another officer chimed in, a hint of concern etched into his features. "It's becoming increasingly alarming, sir. The recent disappearances have raised questions among the citizens. Some are starting to speculate about the involvement of the Dark Order."
The seated man leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. The Dark Order had long been a source of fear and speculation, an organization shrouded in mystery and rumored to dabble in unspeakable practices. However, the man's intuition suggested something darker than mere rogue magic users.
"No," he replied, voice steady but firm. "I suspect the nobles are behind this. They hold considerable power and influence, and their domains harbor shadows that we cannot so easily see. We must investigate them thoroughly."
The officers exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and apprehension crossing their faces. The prospect of challenging the city's elite was daunting; nobles were known for their wealth and prowess, but they were also known for their ruthlessness when cornered.
"Look into their affairs, their gatherings, and keep a close watch on their dealings," the man continued, his tone resolute. "We need information, and we need it discreetly. Be careful; if my suspicions are correct, they won't take kindly to prying eyes. We must uncover the truth behind these disappearances and stop whatever plot they may be scheming."
With that, the officers nodded and saluted before exiting, leaving the man alone in the flickering light