Mingma stood with the other candidates as they were led to the third trial grounds. Unlike the structured settings of the first two trials, this one felt different from the very start. The air was heavy with tension, and even the instructors guiding them seemed more serious. When they arrived at their destination, Mingma's eyes widened. Before them stretched a vast, rugged island surrounded by shimmering water, its dense forest canopy hiding untold mysteries.
An instructor stepped forward, his authoritative voice cutting through the murmurs of the candidates. "Welcome to the third and final trial. This is the Trial of Survival. This test is not for the weak-hearted. You will spend the next seven days on this island. Over 2,000 of you are here today, but only 1,000 will make it to the academy. The rules are simple: survival of the fittest."
The crowd of candidates stilled, their focus sharpening. Mingma could sense the tension in the air.
"To pass this trial," the instructor continued, "you must accumulate enough points. Points can be earned in several ways: by gathering precious plants found on the island and submitting them at the end of the test. However, be warned—these plants are rare and difficult to find. You may also… acquire points from others. While killing is strictly prohibited, everything else is allowed. You may form alliances, go solo, or compete… the choice is yours."
A murmur of unease spread through the group. Mingma's mind raced. This was a test of not just magical ability but also strategy, resilience, and adaptability.
The instructor smirked slightly, sensing the unease. "There will be no interventions. If you cannot survive seven days here, you have no place in the Royal Academy of Military Arts. Let the trial begin." With that, the instructors stepped aside, leaving the candidates to stare at the daunting island before them.
A loud horn blared, signaling the start of the trial. The crowd surged forward, breaking into smaller groups or disappearing into the forest's shadows. Mingma hesitated for a moment, evaluating his options. He couldn't rely solely on brute strength—not yet. His training over the past seven weeks had made him stronger, but he was still far from the level of many other candidates. He needed to play this smart.
He took a deep breath and headed into the forest, his senses heightened. The dense foliage swallowed him almost immediately, the sounds of rustling leaves and distant footsteps creating an eerie symphony. He needed to establish a plan. First, he'd scout the area and identify any valuable resources. Second, he'd avoid direct confrontation unless absolutely necessary. And third, he'd keep an eye out for potential allies—or threats.
Hours passed as Mingma moved cautiously through the forest. He managed to find a few low-tier medicinal plants, carefully tucking them into his bag. They wouldn't earn him many points, but they were a start. Along the way, he encountered several other candidates. Most ignored him, too focused on their own objectives, but a few cast him wary glances. Mingma stayed on guard, knowing that alliances here were as fragile as the leaves underfoot.
By nightfall, Mingma had set up a makeshift camp near a small stream. He had only a handful of plants to show for his efforts, but he was alive and unscathed, which was more than he could say for some. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of a skirmish—likely a group of candidates fighting over resources. He tightened his grip on the dagger he'd brought, silently resolving to stay out of sight for now.
As the days went on, Mingma's strategy began to pay off. He avoided larger groups and focused on gathering plants in the more secluded areas of the island. His knowledge from Earth proved unexpectedly useful; he recognized patterns in the terrain and applied basic survival skills he'd learned from documentaries and books. His bloodline's affinity with fire and gold magic also gave him an edge—he used controlled bursts of fire to scare off wild beasts and illuminate dark areas, while the gold magic allowed him to sense faint traces of mana, helping him locate rarer plants.
However, it wasn't all smooth sailing. On the third day, Mingma encountered a group of three candidates who had clearly formed an alliance. They cornered him near a cluster of high-value plants, demanding he hand over his findings. Mingma's heart raced, but he didn't panic. Instead, he used his fire magic to create a sudden explosion of light and heat, temporarily blinding them. In the chaos, he grabbed his bag and fled deeper into the forest. His weak body ached from the exertion, but he knew he couldn't afford to stop.
By the sixth day, Mingma had amassed a decent collection of plants. He wasn't among the strongest or the most dominant candidates, but his resourcefulness had kept him in the game. He'd even managed to form a tentative alliance with a quiet but skilled candidate named Tashi, who had an affinity for water magic. Together, they covered more ground and kept watch for potential threats.
On the final day, Mingma and Tashi made their way to the submission point, a fortified clearing guarded by academy instructors. The area was bustling with activity as candidates arrived, some with overflowing bags of plants, others with barely anything to show. Mingma's bag wasn't the heaviest, but it contained several rare plants he had painstakingly gathered over the week.
As he submitted his collection, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had survived. The trial wasn't over yet—the instructors would tally the points and announce the results soon—but Mingma knew he had done everything he could. For now, all he could do was wait and hope that his efforts had been enough to secure his place at the Royal Academy of Military Arts.
Standing in the clearing with Tashi by his side, Mingma looked around at the other candidates. Some were exhausted, others triumphant, but all of them shared the same determination in their eyes. This was more than just a trial—it was the first step toward a future none of them could yet fully grasp.
Mingma clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. No matter what the results were, he had proven to himself that he could survive, adapt, and fight for his place in this world. And this was only the beginning.