Morning arrived, and Teclos was on his feet again.

Yesterday’s festival lanterns had long since burned out, and only a few scraps of colored ribbon still clung to fence posts and stall frames. Dew settled over the rooftops of Kolma’s town quarter, and everything was still and peaceful.

Inside Teclos’ home, the scent of warm bread and honeyed porridge filled the air.

His mother stood by the hearth, sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows, stirring a pot with steady hands. His father sat already dressed, though less lively than usual, rubbing his temples and regretting one cup too many from the night before.

Teclos entered dressed more comfortably, in clothes that would allow him to exercise freely. He had chosen a clean linen shirt—the one without mended tears at the sleeves—and fastened his leather tunic properly with a belt. His leather boots were strapped tightly, and he wore grey wool pants.

His mother noticed him coming in.

"You’re up early," she said with a knowing smile.

"I couldn’t sleep much," Teclos admitted, taking his seat.

His father gave a short grunt.

"Me too, son... me too."

They ate in relative silence at first, but it did not last long.

"Don’t worry too much, you’ll do great," she said, setting bread onto his plate.

"I know," Teclos replied. "I just wonder what they have planned for the tests."

Talmir snorted lightly, still clutching his temples. "It’ll likely be strength, endurance... maybe flexibility."

Teclos frowned, remembering Gillard’s sad face from the day before. He got careless with his words, and the silence that followed after them was worrisome.

"I hope Gillard will be fine today. I might have said something bad yesterday," he muttered.

His mother’s eyes softened. "Whatever you said, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, and Gillard is a strong boy, so don’t worry too much."

He nodded, but only half convinced.

When they stepped outside, they saw the strange, silent yet somehow lively crowd that lingers after a festival—some had stayed up so long they were only just now making their way home.

Ralph and Gillard were already waiting near the well in the town square, with their families.

The difference between Gillard yesterday and today was impossible to miss.

Ralph stood unusually close to Gillard, clapping him on the back with exaggerated encouragement.

"Don’t worry, man, you look fine," Ralph insisted. "A little pale, sure—but that’s just your natural... charm."

Gillard did, in fact, look dreadful.

His skin was pale as a ghost’s, his eyes had dark rings around them. He looked as if he didn’t sleep at all last night.

"You don’t understand, man," Gillard muttered. "What if they think I’m not fit to be a hunter? What if they close that path for me?"

Ralph rolled his eyes. "You are the strongest among us physically, no one rivals you in that aspect."

"How does being strong even matter here?! What if they want a smarter hunter?"

Teclos approached, feeling a sting of guilt twist in his chest.

"Listen," he began, forcing a grin, "cheer up already, strength always matters for a hunter."

Gillard barely looked at him.

"Hunters don’t only need to know things," Teclos continued. "They need strength. Stamina. Courage. You’ve got all three, and I’m sure the hunter path isn’t closed for you."

Gillard’s expression softened slightly.

"And even if the elders suggest something else," Teclos added with a shrug, "you can ignore them. Be a hunter with us anyway."

Ralph nodded vigorously. "Exactly! We’ll hunt something ridiculous just to prove a point."

A faint breath escaped Gillard—almost a laugh.

"Alright, I’ll try to calm down, you can stop with the pity."

Teclos and Ralph both felt relieved at once, the strain in their shoulders loosening as Gillard’s expression softened.

Their parents stood a few paces back, watching the exchange. Teclos caught them watching, and his parents gave him a thumbs up. Gillard’s mother had pressed a hand to her chest in visible relief.

The town square filled steadily once more.

But the mood had changed.

The loud revelry of yesterday had been replaced with yawns, subdued murmurs, and more than a few villagers were rubbing their temples and faces. The aftermath of alcohol lingered in the air.

On the raised wooden platform stood Brahm.

He looked even worse than those villagers.

His posture was crooked. His usually booming presence seemed almost nonexistent now. Even from a distance, Teclos could see that he had a rough night.

When he cleared his throat, it lacked its usual thunder.

"People of Kolma," Brahm began, his voice slightly shaky, though he continued steadily, "we gather once more for the continuation of the trials."

A villager near the fountain called out, barely containing a grin, "Can’t hold your liquor, huh, Chief?"

A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd.

Brahm’s eye twitched.

He glared in the direction of that voice but wisely chose not to escalate it. A few villagers who were clearly in a similar condition chuckled in solidarity.

His speech was shorter this time.

"The written trial has concluded," he said. "Results will not be posted publicly."

A murmur spread through the youths. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"They will be delivered individually on the final day," Brahm continued, raising a hand to quiet them, "during your counseling sessions with the elders. Until then, you are to focus on the trials themselves—not the outcome."

Someone near the front asked, "Why can’t we see the results now?"

Brahm inhaled slowly.

"So that some of you won’t get embarrassed," he said, "I imagine that more than a few parents will be angry at their sons and daughters."

That statement silenced any more questions about the tests, with everyone hoping that this wasn’t them.

"All youths, follow me. The rest can enjoy themselves in the festival again," he said.

The crowd shifted as villagers and youths alike began moving. One group separated toward the training grounds beyond the town square, near the apple orchards, and the other drifted back toward the taverns and stalls.

The arena sat just past the trees—a circular dirt field enclosed by wooden fencing. Weapon racks lined one side. Training dummies stood new and unused. Targets were fixed along the far end.

Peculiarly, there were a lot of stones and strange contraptions scattered about as well.

The morning sun filtered through the apple branches, casting patterned shadows over the ground.

Teclos felt that he was ready to stomp his competition.

Beside him, Gillard rolled his shoulders, focused on the task at hand now.

Ralph cracked his knuckles with a smirk on his face.

Ahead, the elders had already taken seats beneath the shade of an apple tree. Elira sat beside them, a parchment in hand.

Brahm moved to the center of the field, rubbing his temples one last time before straightening his back.

Hungover or not, he still had a duty to fulfill.

"Line up!" he barked—less thunderous than yesterday, but nonetheless commanding.

The second day officially began.

The sixty youths stood in three uneven lines, nervous and excited at the same time.

The trees swayed gently beyond the fence, their branches whispering in the mild morning breeze. The training grounds were usually loud at this time of the day, but now they were eerily quiet.

Hunters stood at every corner of the arena.

Leaning against posts with folded arms.

They were there to prevent cheating, although no one would dare attempt that under so many watchful eyes. At the same time, they would assess the youths—guts, perseverance, strength, and the quiet refusal to give up.

Brahm stepped forward again.

"You will be divided into three groups of twenty," he announced. "Each group will rotate through separate drills. One hour per station."

He began calling names.

Teclos felt his chest tighten briefly until—

"Gillard."

A while later, he stopped listing names and simply said, "That’s all for the first group. Now on to the second."

Ralph and Teclos exchanged a glance.

After a while, their names came up in the third group.

Gillard turned slightly, meeting their eyes.

Ralph cupped his hands around Gillard’s shoulders. "Show them what you can do, man!"

A few nearby youths snorted.

Teclos raised a fist. "Stomp them into the ground!"

"Quiet! Or you’ll be disqualified!" shouted Brahm.

Gillard shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. "I got it." A fiery determination burned in his eyes.

"First group," Brahm commanded, "enter the training grounds."

With a final wave toward his friends, Gillard stepped forward and joined the others moving toward the first station.

Brahm remained with them.

The other two groups waited.

After a brief exchange between the hunters, Sera stepped forward toward Teclos and Ralph’s line. Her dark hair was tied high, her movements crisp despite the previous night’s festivities.

"Third group with me," she said evenly.

Obin, broad and silent as ever, gestured to the second group. "You’re with me."

Once the groups were positioned at their respective stations, Brahm’s voice carried across the grounds as he explained the structure.

Each group would begin at a different trial.

The first group—Gillard’s—stood before an arrangement of different stones, some of them massive.

The second group gathered near the northern path leading out of town.

The third—Teclos and Ralph’s—stood before a row of newly constructed training dummies.

First group’s trial seemed to be strength. As Gillard stared at the boulders, he looked at his competition and smiled.

The boulders were arranged by size, smallest to largest. It seemed fairly straightforward. Beyond them stood a waist-high wooden platform.

Brahm walked slowly along the line of youths.

First, he pointed at several round stones in front of them.

"You will lift each boulder onto the platform," he explained, "from the smallest to the largest."

After that, he pointed toward an oddly shaped stone resting on a circular dirt path.

"Here, you will lift this boulder and walk as far as you can with it."

Lastly, he pointed to a rectangular stone.

"Lastly, you will push and topple this chiseled block in a straight line."

The final stone looked truly unforgiving and big.

"This will test your general strength," Brahm continued. "It is about how far you can go before you stop. How determined you are—and, of course, how strong you are."

Beyond the northern gate, Obin stood waiting with the second group.

He did not waste time with theatrics.

"We will run twenty kilometers," he said plainly, with a deep and steady voice. "It won’t be easy. You’ll have to sustain the pace for a long time—of course, it will be faster than you are comfortable with."

He turned slightly and gestured toward the forest path cutting northward.

"Two hunters will run at the front. Two at the rear. You are to always remain in between them."

The four assigned hunters stepped into position without a word—they had lean figures, clearly built for an endurance run.

"If you forfeit, or if the hunters overtake you," Obin pointed at the rear hunters, "the two at the back will mark the distance you reached. You will then return to town and wait at the gates for the rest to return."

There was no mockery in his tone, but no encouragement either. Just orders and expectations.

"We will cross uneven terrain, narrow ridges, terrain with loose gravel, sections of the forest where visibility drops sharply."

A few of the youths looked uncomfortable and nervous after hearing all of that.

"You may encounter signs of beasts," Obin added calmly. "The more dangerous paths were cleared at dawn, but don’t forget that this is still the wild."

Some of them gulped loudly.

"This trial will measure how long you can endure, how well you can control your breath under pressure, and your mental fortitude."

His eyes swept across them, lingering on the overly confident and on those who looked the most anxious.

"When I give the signal, run after the lead hunters," he finished.

He stepped aside.

Near the apple trees, Sera faced the third group with her usual intensity.

"This station tests body control and combat strength," she began. "A flexible body will help you ward off injuries more easily, and combat strength is a must for survival in the wild."

She motioned toward the open space before the training dummies.

"We will start with the flexibility and balance drills."

A few exchanged confused glances.

Sera ignored them.

"You will perform joint rotations, stretching, and balance holds. Some movements will be similar to combat footwork—only we’ll do them slower, and more targeted."

She demonstrated and settled into a low stance, her front leg bent sharply while the other extended outward, her torso straight and centered over her hips.

"These exercises strengthen ligaments and increase range of motion. A stiff fighter gets injured or caught easily. Flexibility and balance are both very important for daily life and in fights."

She straightened again.

"These exercises will also warm up your muscles properly. I do not want torn tendons before we begin."

"Are we the only ones who have to do the stretches, ma’am?" a curious girl asked.

"No," Sera replied calmly. "Every group will begin with warm-ups first—except perhaps the runners."

After a brief pause, she gestured toward the newly built dummies—taller than a man, reinforced at the core—as well as the archery targets at the back.

"Once warmed up, each of you will step forward and deliver three strikes on these dummies, and then loose three arrows at the targets."

She held up three fingers.

"Only non-attribute and body-strengthening mana is permitted. This is about your base skills, not elemental affinity."

Her gaze sharpened.

"We will measure your form. Decisiveness. Accuracy. And the raw strength behind your strikes."

She walked to a dummy and placed her palm lightly against its surface.

"You all get three chances," she repeated quietly. "Make them meaningful."

After saying that, the dummy caved in and was blown backward.

Destroyed.

"If you exceed this," she added calmly, "you automatically pass this trial."

She stepped back, folded her arms, and commanded,

"Form five equal lines and stand at least an arm’s length away from each other. We will begin with the stretching."