Teclos ran.

Branches clawed at his face and arms as he tore through the undergrowth, boots barely finding proper footing before he launched himself forward again. Darkness lashed out instinctively—tendrils snapping around the trees.

He slingshotted himself ahead.

The world blurred.

An ice needle screamed past his ear and exploded against a tree in front of him, showering splinters and frost in every direction.

His breathing was already chaotic.

Fast and ragged pulls of air. Panic was slowly setting in. He was beginning to tire.

"What kind of damn training is this?!" he gasped between strides. "Try not to die?!"

Another tendril wrapped around a thick trunk to his right—he pivoted mid-run, swung wide, and hurled himself down a slope. Snow and dirt sprayed behind him.

The frost lynx followed effortlessly.

Although it was injured now, it still didn’t lose a lot of speed, if any at all.

Teclos thrust both hands backward and unleashed a curtain of darkness, a thick veil spilling between the trees like ink in water. It swallowed light, distorted shapes, and blurred depth perception.

He then cut sharply left, trying to lose it for a moment and hide.

But the lynx burst through the curtain as if it were ordinary mist, and its red eyes locked onto him instantly.

With no hesitation or confusion whatsoever.

"How?!" he hissed.

Ice needles grazed both of his thighs this time, slicing through his clothes and biting into his skin.

A sharp, cold pain flared up, making him stagger a bit, but he didn’t stop.

’Above the treeline...’ he thought. Maybe gaining height would help him escape it.

A shadow tendril coiled around a high branch, and he hurled himself upward, boots kicking off the bark as he vaulted onto a thick branch. From there, he launched again, bounding across the canopy, using darkness to pull and propel himself from trunk to trunk.

Wind roared in his ears. He became faster than on the ground.

The lynx leapt high with one powerful jump, its claws sinking into the bark as it started its pursuit leisurely.

It jumped from branch to branch with terrifying ease, bounding through the trees, its movements impossibly fluid and making it just as fast as Teclos.

Ice needles started forming above its head again. It released them mid-leap, toward him.

One shattered a branch inches from his foot.

Another skimmed his leg, and he nearly lost balance.

Seeing that it kept up easily, he dropped back to the forest floor deliberately this time, rolling hard and sprinting again.

Zig-zagging.

Cutting tight angles between narrow trunks.

Sliding beneath fallen logs with no particular pattern or rhythm.

Pure instinct and will to survive.

Still—

It stayed on him. Always just behind him and always within sight.

Another problem started showing itself: his lungs started burning.

His mana reserves dipped faster than he liked. Every slingshot. Every curtain. Every defensive lash drained him more and more.

The lynx, by contrast, looked relentless and unhurried.

Like a predator leisurely enjoying the chase.

Teclos risked a glance back at the best possible timing.

He managed to spot that the lynx had closed the distance.

And sure enough, it lunged at him—

He threw himself sideways as claws carved through the space he’d occupied a split second earlier. The impact cratered the ground, ice spreading outward in a jagged, frosty flower bloom.

He scrambled up, slipping in the forming ice. His mind was panicking.

It didn’t matter what he did.

Shadow curtain to obscure vision? It tore through it.

Swing and jump above the treeline? It easily followed him.

Zig-zagging through the forest around boulders, trees, and bushes? It adjusted mid-leap.

It never lost him. It never hesitated. Hell, it didn’t even slow down.

Cold realization settled in his mind.

It was plain as day and simple—it was toying with him.

His mana pulsed erratically, and his breathing bordered on hyperventilation.

"Think," he muttered hoarsely. "Think!"

Another ice needle clipped his calf, and he stumbled hard, barely catching himself with a shadow tendril before crashing face-first into the snow.

The lynx didn’t immediately pounce.

It slowed down and stalked him.

Red eyes gleaming in delight.

An experienced hunter knew that prey wouldn’t just die and would fight for its life with a last stand.

And true enough, Teclos pushed himself upright, chest heaving violently.

Darkness gathered around him again—only thinner now. He looked pathetic, bloodied, covered in mud and ice, and tired. But his eyes were still alive.

The lynx lowered itself, ready for the finale.

Its claws elongated and reshaped—ice forming over them, extending into curved, razor-sharp talons that gleamed like polished blue steel. Above its head, more needles condensed. There were more this time. Denser as well, taking more of a long, thick spear shape rather than a needle.

Teclos staggered back a step.

His mind raced, grasping for anything.

Anything.

A shadow tendril lashed out behind him, snapping toward a sturdy tree trunk. If he could just sling himself away one more time—

But then a jagged wall of ice erupted from the ground.

Sharp as a guillotine.

It severed the tendril cleanly. His escape plan was foiled the second he tried it.

"Fu—"

The curse never left his lips because when he looked up—

The lynx was already there, a few centimeters from his face and mid-lunge.

Claws poised to tear through his neck, its red eyes filled his vision.

He had no more time left to counter or block it.

No space to dodge out of its path and no spell fast enough to slow it down.

That was when a single thought formed in his mind.

’I’m dead.’

And just as the lynx was about to reach him, with only a finger’s width separating his neck and its claws—

The lynx suddenly dropped.

Its body simply... separated.

Three clean, horrific sections slid apart mid-air before collapsing into the snow in a spray of blood and guts.

Teclos stood frozen, heart hammering violently against his ribs.

The lynx twitched once.

Then lay still.

Dead.

He was bewildered.

’What the fuc—’

His thoughts were interrupted.

"...Pathetic."

The word came from behind him.

Emotionless and cold.

"And you are supposed to be the best of the batch this year?"

Teclos spun around.

The old man stood there, hands behind his back as if he had merely taken a casual stroll. No visible weapon in hand. No sign of where he had even come from.

Teclos stared at him.

"What?!" he burst out, fury overriding shock. "You expect me to fight that thing and win? Are you mad?!"

His chest heaved violently.

"Besides—you left me in this forest with no explanation at all!"

The old man’s expression didn’t change.

"I gave you instructions." His voice hardened slightly. "And you did not follow them."

Teclos blinked in disbelief.

"You didn’t even listen," the man continued, shaking his head slowly. "I told you to hide. Not to fight."

Teclos clenched his fists.

"You vanished! And what was I supposed to do? Just stand there?!"

"What did you do?" the old man shot back calmly. "You leisurely strolled back as if you were walking through a town market."

Teclos opened his mouth—

Closed it.

The old man stepped closer, gaze sharp as drawn steel.

"Do you not know where you are currently, kid?"

His tone lowered.

"You are in the deeper parts of the forest. Territory claimed by apex predators."

Teclos’s jaw tightened.

"Then explain the damn assignment properly!" he snapped. "And don’t act like this was obvious! There weren’t any beasts around before you disappeared, old man!"

The hunter exhaled slowly, as if dealing with a particularly slow student.

"Kids these days..."

He gestured lazily toward the surrounding forest.

"There were no monsters because I drove them away."

Teclos froze.

"I cleared the area so we could walk undisturbed. And once I finally found a suitable beast for you to hide from—"

His eyes narrowed.

"You didn’t even attempt to conceal your presence."

The words struck him hard, stunning him for a second.

"You radiated mana the moment I left, with no effort whatsoever to conceal it. You strolled back casually. You made noise everywhere. You treated the forest like it’s your damn playground."

Teclos’s anger faltered for a second.

The old man continued mercilessly.

"A frost lynx hunts by sight, sound, smell, and sensing prey through snow. You announced yourself in all three. Congrats, kid." He said the last line as sarcastically as possible.

Teclos swallowed.

"Again... I told you to hide. Simpler orders don’t exist."

The hunter turned away dismissively, and silence hung heavy between them.

Teclos stared at the three bloody remains in the snow.

"I did try to hide... It was chasing me. How was I supposed to lose it?"

The old man sighed and turned. "It was chasing you the second it found you... because you announced your presence like an idiot."

Teclos couldn’t say a word back, because he knew the old man was right... at least somewhat.

The old man began walking away.

"Cool your head, kid. We’re returning."

His voice carried back through the trees.

"I am done with you for today."

Teclos stood there for a long moment, fists still clenched from frustration. The lynx hadn’t been the real test. He had failed the moment he assumed he just needed to return to the shed.

After a second, he exhaled shakily and followed after the old man.

They walked back in silence, and the forest had changed again.

Where moments ago it had felt like a hunting ground for apex predators, now it felt... hollow.

It was empty again, no beast in sight and no sound to be heard except the wind in the trees.

Teclos noticed it immediately now.

The old man walked ahead of him, hands clasped loosely behind his back, posture relaxed—almost casual.

’How is he doing that?’

Driving away every predator in the deeper parts of the forest?

Killing a frost lynx so cleanly it didn’t even register what happened?

’Just who is this old man?’ he asked himself.

Teclos had grown up in Kolma. He had heard stories of capable hunters, veterans, even a few near-legendary figures who had once passed through.

He clenched his jaw.

He knew the old man had been right—at least partially.

He had been careless.

He had assumed the assignment would be easy.

He had strolled back like a fool.

But—

But!

Heat surged in his chest.

The man had said nothing.

No explanation. No briefing. No context.

Just "hide."

Hide?!

Then he vanished and tossed him into a life-and-death situation.

Anger bubbled inside him.

The old man reminded him of people from his previous life.

The "know-it-alls."

Bosses who expected perfection without giving any direction.

Teachers who criticized your knowledge without teaching.

Seniors and relatives who loved preaching about how "you’ll understand when you’re older."

People who acted as if they had every answer and expected blind obedience.

’Pathetic?’ Teclos thought bitterly. ’Who are you calling pathetic when you can’t teach for shit?’

The words echoed in his mind, though he kept them behind his teeth.

They reached the shed without another incident.

The old man unlocked it, stepped inside, and waited.

Teclos handed back the short sword without a word and retrieved his own weapons.

When they left the forest and the walls of Kolma came into view, the old man finally spoke again.

They entered the guild hall.

Hunters milled about. A few glanced their way but said nothing.

"Brat," he said flatly.

Teclos stiffened.

"Tomorrow is going to be the same..."

His eyes flicked sideways, a sharp and unreadable glare.

"Don’t whine that I didn’t tell you tomorrow like you did today."

Teclos felt his temper flare again.

"And try not to be such a pathetic child," the old man continued, his voice cutting deep. "Throwing a tantrum the moment someone criticizes the ’oh so perfect’ you."

Teclos stared at him, stunned.

The audacity.

Before he could form a reply—

The old man vanished.

Again.

"Damn that old bastard!" Teclos hissed under his breath.

A nearby clerk glanced at him strangely.

Teclos exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

He approached the reception desk and notified them of his return, voice clipped but controlled. The clerk nodded and marked something down.

Then he left.

The cold evening air gnawed at his skin as he made his way home.

His body ached.

His shoulder throbbed where the ice had grazed him. His calf burned with every step.

But it wasn’t the pain that bothered him the most.

It was the humiliation from the old man.

Tomorrow will be the same?

Teclos looked up at the darkening sky. His jaw tightened.

"Fine," he muttered. "If that’s how you want to do this..."

His anger hadn’t cooled in the slightest.

And tomorrow—

He would show that old man who’s pathetic.