Time slowed, minutes became hours ,and hours became days, nevertheless the island, covered with tall pine trees. The mix of fog and plants sent chills down their spines,
"- participants… Welcome to the Carnage exam. The rules are simple."
-Scores are given based on survival rate, and the amount of beasts you hunted.
- A group must bring at least one trophy from the beast you haunt.
-The trophy must be left fang from the beast.
He raised his hand, waving it forward and giving a signal.
The test has begun.
They marched through the dark forest, the dense canopy above blocking out even the faintest traces of moonlight. The class had been split into three teams, but one group was dwarfed by the others. While the majority boasted thirty members each, this small team had only four. They moved with quiet determination, but their numbers weren't what troubled Yacha. It wasn't the monsters lurking in the shadows, nor the oppressive aura of the forest. His unease stemmed from something far more sinister.
Looming behind them, Mastrata slithered through the trees, a man with the soul of a snake. His lanky frame and predatory eyes unsettled those around him, his malice barely concealed behind a thin smile. He hated Yacha's group—especially Yacha himself—and his twisted mind was undoubtedly weaving plans to sabotage them. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, and Yacha sensed something dark brewing.
But before Yacha could dwell on it further, a savage howl tore through the night. A mutant wolf leaped from the shadows, but its attack was over before it even began. Speira's blade flashed in the moonlight, slicing through the beast's neck in one clean motion. The head hit the ground with a sickening thud, and blood sprayed across the forest floor.
"Stay sharp," Speira said coldly, wiping her sword on her cloak. Her instincts were sharp—this was only the beginning.
Eyes gleamed from the darkness—more wolves, a pack, surrounding them. Ursang, the team's tank and leader, raised his shield and bellowed a command, his voice booming over the sounds of snarling beasts.
"HOLD YOUR FORMATION!"
The team responded in unison, closing ranks, weapons drawn and ready. The mutant wolves rushed forward, their massive bodies hurtling through the air like living missiles. Claws slashed, teeth snapped, but the small team was relentless. They struck back with brutal efficiency, tearing through the wolves' flesh with spears and swords, while fire and thunder magic lit up the forest. Bones cracked, blood flowed, and the ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen.
After what felt like hours of carnage, the pack was dead. Elin, her shield dripping with gore, let out a ragged breath. "Time to take trophies, guys." Her voice was shaky but triumphant, a grim smile playing on her blood-smeared lips.
The others set about their task, but Yacha wasn't so quick to celebrate. Something wasn't right. He sensed a presence, something darker, more powerful than the others. His eyes scanned the trees, his instincts screaming at him.
That's when he felt it—a deathly, soul-crushing gaze locking onto them from the depths of the forest.
"LOOK OUT!"
The warning came just in time. A monstrous slash ripped through the air, gouging the earth where they had stood moments before. Emerging from the shadows was the pack's Alpha—a hulking creature twice the size of the other wolves, its black fur bristling with raw power. But what set this beast apart was the third eye gleaming in the center of its forehead, pulsating with malevolent energy.
This was no ordinary wolf. The Alpha's third eye glowed with a dark, ancient magic. It was more than just a symbol of dominance—it radiated fear, forcing submission on all who were weak. But Yacha's team wasn't about to kneel.
The ground shook as the Alpha unleashed four massive slashes, tearing through trees and stone as if they were paper. The wolf commanded wind magic—its power devastating, its intent clear.
But Speira laughed. "A one-on-one challenge, Yacha?" she taunted, her lips curling into a smirk. The arrogance in her voice was unmistakable, but it wasn't born of overconfidence—it was pure, unshakable certainty.
Elin joined in, her giggle barely stifled. "Can your fury pet even understand human speech, Speira?"
Despite the playful banter, the danger was real. Yacha's team knew the Alpha wouldn't fall easily.
Yacha was already charging his next attack, his mind racing with the plan. He crafted a fireball in his left hand, lacing it with thunder magic, ready to launch a dual-element attack. His spear glinted in his right hand, poised to strike. He leaped high into the air, his fireball flaring as he sent it hurtling toward the Alpha.
The beast dodged, its reflexes sharp. It countered instantly, leaping toward Yacha with its claws outstretched, aiming for a kill. Yacha barely managed to block the blow with his spear, sparks flying as metal met bone.
"NOW!"
At Yacha's signal, Ursang and Elin sprang into action. They moved as one, piercing the Alpha's chest from both sides, their weapons sinking deep into its heart. The creature let out a deafening howl, its power fading. Before it could react, Speira was there. Her sword flashed in the moonlight, and with one clean stroke, she severed the Alpha's head from its body.
Silence fell over the forest. The Alpha lay dead at their feet, its blood staining the earth.
"We used his pride against him," Speira muttered, kicking the decapitated head aside. "Guess even kings can fall when they're too proud."
"Pride can be a killer," Ursang grunted, his eyes flicking to Yacha. "And so can recklessness."
Yacha just shrugged, raising a thumb in response. "It worked."
The team shared a brief moment of respite, the moonlight casting a strange, serene beauty over the bloody scene. But as they stood there, catching their breath, a new sound emerged. Footsteps—slow, deliberate—echoed through the clearing, sending a chill down their spines.
Mastrata stepped into view, his crooked smile more venomous than ever. In his hands were two glinting daggers, and strapped to his back was a long sword that gleamed with a dark, malevolent energy.
He chuckled softly, his voice dripping with malice. "Did you really think the wolves were the only threat in this forest?"
The smile never reached his eyes. Yacha had been right all along. The real danger had always been human.