Jian melted into the shadows, his breathing steady and controlled. The figures below moved in tandem, their synchronization suggesting they were more than just a ragtag group of wanderers. They were trained, disciplined, and undeniably on a mission.
He scanned their movements, noting the subtle signals passed between them—hand gestures, tilts of the head, slight shifts in stance. Communication without words. Whoever commanded them knew how to maintain control without drawing attention.
Jian's mind raced. If these were more of Nyx's allies—or worse, enemies—then staying one step ahead was paramount. The Spirit Core's power pulsed within him, a steady rhythm that bolstered his senses, sharpening his awareness of the forest around him.
He needed answers.
With a deftness born of years spent in hostile territories, Jian descended from his perch, his steps ghosting over the uneven terrain. The wind was on his side, carrying his scent away from the interlopers, masking his approach.
As he drew closer, their hushed voices drifted through the night air, snippets of conversation slipping past their guard.
"…orders from the higher-ups. We don't engage unless absolutely necessary."
"Think they're really watching? I mean, the Irregular's got the Spirit Core—how much more can he take?"
Jian's eyes narrowed. They were definitely talking about him. He edged closer, keeping to the shadows. The moonlight danced through the trees, casting fragmented light over the group—five figures, cloaked and armed, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods.
A leader, taller than the rest, lifted a gloved hand. "We're not here to fight him. Observation only. The council wants to understand his strength, gauge his potential. Direct conflict isn't part of the plan—yet."
Council? Jian's mind churned with possibilities. There were layers to this game he hadn't seen before, players moving pieces from the shadows. Nyx's warning took on new weight.
Steeling himself, Jian focused on his breathing, drawing the forest's energy into himself, calming the storm of questions swirling in his mind. He needed to stay patient, wait for the right moment to reveal himself—or to disappear entirely, if the situation called for it.
But the choice was ripped from him.
A twig snapped underfoot—too close, too loud. One of the figures jerked their head in his direction, eyes glinting with alertness.
"Someone's there."
In an instant, Jian's cover was blown. He straightened, stepping out of the shadows with his sword in hand, eyes locked onto the leader. The group shifted, hands moving to weapons, tension coiling like a spring.
"I don't appreciate being followed," Jian said evenly, his voice carrying a calm threat. "Who are you, and what does this council want with me?"
The leader's hood tipped back slightly, revealing a sharp gaze that measured him carefully. "We're not your enemies, Jian. But conflict can be arranged if you push it."
Jian's grip tightened. "I don't trust shadows lurking in the dark."
A brief smile flashed on the leader's face—cold, almost amused. "Wise. But we're not your enemy. The council watches all Irregulars—they're curious about how far you can climb, how much power you'll seize. You're a variable in their plans."
"I'm no one's pawn," Jian snapped, his voice hardening.
"That's what makes you interesting." The leader sheathed their weapon slowly, signaling to the others to lower theirs. "We're tasked with observing, not interfering. But take this as a sign—you're being watched. Every step, every victory, every failure. The Tower has many eyes."
Jian's jaw clenched. The Tower was a crucible, testing challengers beyond their limits—but this? Surveillance, manipulation, unseen forces shaping the paths of those who climbed? It added a new, sinister layer to the trials.
"Tell your council I won't be a pawn," Jian said, sheathing his own sword with a decisive motion. "I forge my own path, and anyone who tries to control me will find out just how far I'm willing to go."
The leader inclined their head, a gesture of acknowledgment. "A message we'll be sure to deliver."
Without another word, they melted back into the forest, their presence vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared. Jian remained still, muscles taut, senses stretching to their limits to catch any lingering threat.
The forest seemed to breathe again, the tension dissolving into the night air.
But Jian knew the truth now.
The Tower's trials weren't just battles against beasts and guardians. They were battles against unseen manipulators, forces that sought to bend the will of challengers, to test not just their strength, but their resolve.
Jian took a deep breath, his eyes hardening. He had enemies he couldn't see, foes who moved in the dark. But he also had allies—the Wilds, the Spirit Core, his own indomitable will.
And with those, he would rise.