Teclos stood in the second row of the formation, feet shoulder-width apart, arms loose at his sides.

Ralph stood to his right.

Loric to his left.

Ralph, unfortunately, was not focused.

He leaned slightly forward, eyes fixed shamelessly on the girl positioned directly in front of him. She had braided auburn hair and moved with surprising grace as she adjusted her stance. Ralph was not subtle about watching her adjust.

Loric, on the other hand, was very focused.

Just not on the right thing.

His chin was tilted up a fraction too high, eyes flicking between Teclos and the front of the formation as if silently measuring them both. Competitive energy radiated off him—insufferable and annoying.

Teclos rolled his eyes.

Of course.

Before either of them could whisper something stupid to Teclos, Sera’s voice cut cleanly through the murmurs.

"Attention."

The arena became silent.

Sera stood at the front, posture straight, hands clasped behind her back. The morning light filtered through the apple branches above, casting shifting patterns across her dark training clothes.

"You will copy my form," she instructed. "Exactly as I do. So when I move, you move too. When I hold a stance, you do too."

Two hunters stepped forward and positioned themselves along the flanks of the formation—one to the left, one to the right. Their eyes were sharp and analytical.

"They will correct you if needed," Sera continued. "Points will be deducted based on how many times they had to help you."

A few swallowed.

"Let’s begin."

She stepped into a wide stance, feet angled outward. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself into a deep stretch, one knee bent sharply, the other leg extended long to the side.

"Go as low as you can," she commanded.

Teclos followed, his muscles protesting slightly as he sank into the position. It hurt slightly, but he did it.

"Keep your back straight and shoulders relaxed."

One of the hunters tapped a boy in the front row with two fingers, pushing his shoulder back into place.

They transitioned smoothly into the next position, and the next, each targeting different body parts—multiple people started groaning as the stretches were getting harder and harder.

Ralph wobbled as he looked elsewhere.

"Focus, man," Teclos muttered under his breath.

"I am focusing," Ralph whispered back, absolutely not focusing.

"Yeah, just not on the exercise..." he muttered.

They shifted into a new position.

That was when Teclos made a grave mistake.

He looked up.

Sera flowed into a low, grounded stance, one leg stretched behind her while her torso leaned forward in a smooth, natural curve. Her arms rose in a slow arc above her head, drawing out her form with quiet grace, her back arching just enough to elongate her silhouette.

A few loose strands of hair framed her face as she lifted her chin slightly, her gaze calm, confident, and unhurried—like she was savoring the moment before moving.

It wasn’t that her clothes were revealing—they weren’t. They were practical and loose. Designed for movement.

But fabric, when stretched at certain angles—

His brain stalled.

A strange warmth shot through his body before he even understood what was happening.

No.

No, no, no.

Not now.

Not here.

His stomach dropped.

Internally, panic exploded.

Dead puppies.

Old grandmas.

Rotting fish.

Shit.

Corpses.

Anything.

He threw the most horrifying, unappealing mental images he could conjure at his own mind like weapons in a desperate war.

Suppress.

Suppress! Goddammit! Do NOT get a boner here!

The hunter to the right glanced at him.

Teclos’s face had tightened into a deep, strained frown.

Loric noticed too.

’Huh? He’s struggling already?’ A smug satisfaction crept into his thoughts.

’He can’t even hold this basic stance, hah!’

In his mind, he had already claimed victory.

Meanwhile, Teclos was in fact fighting for his life.

He shifted slightly, trying to adjust his stance without drawing attention. He forced his breathing to slow. Inhale. Exhale. Think of cow shit. Think of dead puppies. Think of—

"Hold," Sera commanded.

The seconds stretched into minutes of torture.

Finally—

"Up."

She straightened fluidly.

Teclos rose immediately, subtly tugging his tunic downward.

"Alright," Sera said calmly, scanning them. "Now that we are properly warmed up, we move on to archery and striking."

Relief nearly made Teclos collapse.

He stood up and pressed his pants down just a fraction more—just in case.

Ralph and Loric saw as well.

For one rare, sacred moment—

They were united in bullying.

Ralph’s eyes widened.

"Ohhh," he grinned wickedly. "I see those... stretches got you going, huh? Haha, and you told me to focus."

Loric burst out laughing.

"Yeah, it seems like they did."

Teclos froze.

Ralph leaned closer. "I get you, man. She’s hot. I was focusing on her rather than the instructor."

Loric blinked.

"Dude," he wheezed between laughs, "he was ogling the instructor."

Ralph snapped his head toward Teclos.

"No way! Damn... you like old ladies?"

The two of them collapsed into laughter.

Teclos turned a shade of red that rivaled the sunset.

"I— you— shut up!" he hissed, storming toward the archery range before he could make it worse.

Behind him, the laughter faded after a while.

Then silence settled between them again, as Ralph and Loric slowly stopped laughing.

They glanced at each other.

Right...

They did not like each other.

The air turned awkward again, the temporary alliance dissolving as quickly as it had formed.

Across the arena, Gillard lifted the fifth and final round stone onto the platform.

At first, he had approached the trial with visible tension, his movements cautious, shoulders tight.

But his confidence rose like the second boulder did as he lifted it.

Then the third.

Now, with a grunt and a roar of effort, he heaved the last stone onto the platform.

It landed with a heavy thud.

Silence.

A few impressed murmurs could be heard from those watching.

Gillard stepped back and raised both arms high above his head in triumph.

A broad grin split his face.

Out of twenty, only three had managed the fifth stone.

He was one of them.

The anxiety from the morning felt distant now. Small.

He didn’t just barely do it.

He dominated this test.

Back at the archery range, five targets stood downrange.

Concentric rings marked their surfaces. The outer rim was worth one point. Moving inward increased the value up to five. The center was worth eight.

A line had been drawn in the dirt about twenty meters away from the targets.

"No crossing this line," Sera instructed as she lifted a standard hunting bow. "This is a normal hunter’s bow with no enchantments."

She demonstrated a smooth draw.

"You will be graded on accuracy, form, and consistency."

The first row of youths stepped forward.

They retrieved bows and quivers from the rack, positioning themselves at the line.

"On my command," Sera said, raising her hand.

Strings tightened.

"Loose."

Five arrows flew.

All five missed entirely.

A collective groan rose.

"Again."

Second attempt—two struck the outer rim. The rest missed.

Third—one youth missed for the third time. The others at least hit the target, though far from the center.

"Next."

Teclos, Loric, and Ralph stepped forward.

Two others joined them.

They positioned themselves the same way as the group before them.

"Draw."

Teclos focused.

"Loose."

The arrows flew.

Teclos’s struck the fourth ring.

Ralph and Loric both clipped the outer rim, and as expected, they frowned at this result.

Second round.

"Loose."

Teclos adjusted slightly—the angle, his breathing, the timing of his release.

Five points.

Loric hit three.

Ralph hit four.

Third round.

Teclos focused entirely on the arrow tip and the center of the target. The world became still as he waited for the signal. He felt like he could even see dust particles suspended in the air.

"Loose."

He did, and the arrow flew true. It struck dead center.

A clean bullseye.

Teclos punched the air in a guts pose, reveling in his victory.

Ralph hit five.

Loric hit three again, and the moment his arrow struck, Loric kicked the dirt in frustration.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

Ralph scowled slightly too.

He had always considered himself the better archer between him and Teclos.

Apparently not today.

Back on the other side of the training grounds, Gillard hoisted the stone onto his shoulder.

The circular dirt path stretched ahead.

Markers lined the outer edge—small flags planted at various distances.

The stone was heavy, but his rhythm was steady.

He passed the first marker.

Then the second.

Sweat started pouring down his forehead.

He reached the final small red flag planted in the earth and then passed it.

Forty meters past the old record, his legs finally buckled.

He let the stone fall with a heavy crash and staggered back, chest heaving.

Then—

He raised both hands again in a second victory pose.

The hunters exchanged glances.

Impressed.

Very impressed.

Again across the field, Teclos placed his bow back on the rack.

After everyone had taken their turns, the bows were returned. The brief twang of strings faded, replaced by the dull thud of boots shifting over packed dirt as they formed lines again.

Sera did not waste time and moved on to the next exercise.

"Target dummies next," she ordered.

The group reformed before the reinforced dummies. Up close, they looked intimidating and sturdier than from afar—thick wooden cores wrapped in layered padding, reinforced at the chest and midsection.

"Three strikes," she reminded them. "And remember, only body-strengthening mana and nothing else."

She stepped aside.

The first five approached.

One by one, they struck.

Only one used proper technique—the others mostly threw wild swings and haymakers. The dummies rocked but remained firm. The one with proper technique was Sammara; she kicked the dummy in three rapid successions, each strike rocking it more, but still it wasn’t broken.

"Next," Sera said evenly.

When Teclos’s turn came, he rolled his shoulders once more. The earlier embarrassment still lingered in his thoughts.

’Focus, dammit.’

He channeled it into anger and stepped forward, taking a wide stance with arms protecting his head—a classic orthodox stance.

As soon as Sera said begin, he stepped forward with his lead leg and pivoted his whole body.

He drove his fist forward with a hissing exhale, mana reinforcing his muscles to gain speed and maintain his tight swing.

His fist exploded on the dummy’s face, and it jolted backward.

A low murmur rose from the hunters watching.

He transitioned into the second strike immediately after, in a fluid and seamless motion.

He pivoted his front leg and hips, jumping slightly. A quick roundhouse kick to the head was delivered. The wooden outer layer of the dummy cracked, and small debris fell away.

The wooden frame groaned.

Continuing the spinning motion, he transitioned into his final strike.

He gathered his mana into his other leg and delivered a back spinning heel kick, pivoting his entire body in sync with the motion.

He struck the head again.

The dummy snapped back violently, lifting slightly from the ground before slamming down.

The head broke. The whole outer layer shattered off from it.

His strikes clearly tested the dummy’s limits.

"Good," Sera nodded approvingly. "Consistent and fluid form. You controlled every strike and had enough power behind them. Next."

Teclos stepped back, heart pounding—from the satisfaction of being praised and doing well.

Then Loric stepped forward immediately, aggressive, and shoved Teclos out of the way.

His first strike was explosive—but he put too much power behind it, and his aim was off. With mana flaring unevenly, it caused the blow to glance off-center.

The dummy twisted but did not break or shatter as he’d hoped.

He stopped and corrected his stance for the second attempt, but because he stopped his momentum, it lacked power.

The third was a clean knee to the midsection.

Still, the dummy held, and Loric’s jaw tightened in frustration.

Ralph went next.

His strikes were precise, with less raw power. He targeted the dummy’s weak spots like the knees or the neck—but they lacked the force to break it.

"Hit harder, even if you have to sacrifice some aim," Sera warned.

When he stepped back, he avoided looking directly at Teclos as the frustration built inside him.

The remaining youths cycled through. A few delivered impressive impacts. One boy overextended and nearly fell on his face.

When the final youth ended his test, Sera nodded once.

"Form a line. You will rotate to the next test soon."

Across the arena, Gillard stood before the final challenge.

The rectangular chiseled block loomed before him—waist-high, broad, and unforgiving.

"Stand here and then push it up, try to topple it if possible," Brahm had explained earlier. "No tricks."

Several youths had already failed.

Gillard crouched near it.

He wedged his fingers beneath the rough-cut edge.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, focusing.

And when he opened them again, he pulled.

Muscles tightened along his arms and back. His boots dug trenches into the dirt.

’Holy shit!’

The first seconds were brutal.

It barely moved.

His breath hissed through clenched teeth as he sank lower.

Gillard growled, pushing as hard as he could, and surged upward.

The slab of solid rock rose with him.

His arms trembled violently, but he stepped forward with a roar and drove through it with his legs.

The chiseled block tipped over—

And crashed onto its other side with a thunderous impact.

The ground shuddered.

After a brief silence, scattered awe followed from the crowd.

Gillard stumbled back, chest heaving—but he was smiling.

He had lifted the fifth stone.

He had shattered the distance record.

And now he was the only one who toppled the block.

Whatever doubt had haunted him that morning was gone.

As the second group of youths returned from their run, everyone prepared themselves mentally for the next exercise.