I started walking.

The forest was exactly what I expected from the game — dark, damp, and full of things that wanted to kill me.

The trees rose above me like ancient giants, their branches weaving together so tightly that I could barely see the sky, and the only light came from patches of glowing moss that clung to the bark like sickly green fire.

The air smelled of earth and decay, thick enough to taste, and somewhere in the distance, a monster roared.

I kept my hand on Tempest’s hilt and my eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. The bracer on my wrist showed nothing but a countdown and the terrain — forests, rivers, mountains, caves. No markers for monsters.

No markers for other candidates. No helpful little dots telling me where to go or what to avoid. Just me and the wilderness and seven days of survival.

Six days, twenty-three hours, and forty-two minutes left, I thought, glancing at the countdown. Plenty of time. No need to rush.

Rushing through a Forbidden Zone was a good way to die, and I had seen enough death in the War of Faith to know that I didn’t want to add my own to the list. Every step was measured, every breath was controlled, and every glance to the left and right was deliberate.

I wasn’t hunting yet. I was surviving. And surviving meant pacing myself, conserving my energy, and finding a place to rest before nightfall.

But playing safe didn’t mean I wasn’t aiming for the top spot.

I was.

I wanted to become the Primus of the first year, not because of pride — okay, maybe that also played a role, but because with the title came freedom.

Real freedom.

Becoming Primus wasn’t easy.

It meant standing above everyone else, above the nobles who looked down on you, the commoners who fought tooth and nail for scraps, and the prodigies who had been groomed for greatness since birth.

It meant proving that you were better than all of them, that you deserved to be there, you had earned your place through blood and sweat and nothing else.

In the game, Arthur had won the exam.

Of course he had.

Plot armor worked in mysterious ways, and the developers weren’t about to let their golden boy lose the first major event of the story.

He had cruised through the valley with Amelia at his side, collecting points like they were candy, and by the end, he was sitting at the top of the leaderboard with a smile on his face and a princess in his future.

But this wasn’t the game. This was real life. And real life didn’t have plot armor. Well, at least not for me.

If I became Primus, the Academy would listen to me. Not because of my family name, not because of my father’s influence, but because I had earned it.

I would get access to resources that other students could only dream of — rare techniques, restricted sections of the library, invitations to events that weren’t open to the public. I would have a say in how things were run, a voice in the student council, a seat at the table where decisions were made.

And more than anything, I would have freedom.

The freedom to move, to act, to do what needed to be done without someone breathing down my neck, asking questions, demanding explanations.

That was worth fighting for.

The bracer pulsed softly on my wrist, and I glanced down at the screen.

The countdown had dropped, and the map still showed nothing but trees. No points. No rank. No way of knowing if I was winning or losing. Just the terrain and the timer and the quiet pressure of not knowing.

I have to hunt today, I thought. The game events have changed, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to lose. I know this place better than most. I’ve walked through these forests in the game, even if walking and playing are two different things.

I reached into my void pocket and pulled out a bar of chocolate. I had stocked up before leaving — enough food and water to last a week if I was careful.

Space affinity had its perks.

I could carry supplies without weighing myself down, store extra weapons, keep my hands free for fighting. Most candidates would be worrying about food and shelter. I had already solved that problem.

Awakeners can survive days without eating, I reminded myself, breaking off a piece of chocolate and popping it into my mouth. The mana in our cores sustains us. But that doesn’t mean we should starve ourselves. Food keeps your energy up. Water keeps your head clear. And chocolate... chocolate keeps me sane.

I tucked the rest back into my void pocket and kept walking.

Night in a Forbidden Zone was worse than day.

The monsters grew bolder, the shadows grew deeper, and the candidates who had been playing nice during the daylight hours would start to show their true colors when no one was watching. And I needed to make sure no one would try to murder me in my sleep.

Not that they could, I thought, a small smirk tugging at my lips. But still. Better safe than dead.

The map showed a river about two miles to the east — a thin blue line winding through the trees. Water first, then shelter, then food.

Priorities.

I walked faster.

I had no intention of making a party with strangers. Going solo was risky, sure, but partnering up with people you didn’t trust was even riskier. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

In the game, betrayal was common. Parties broke apart over points, over resources, over nothing at all. Some candidates entered the exam with the sole purpose of hunting other candidates, not monsters.

And then there were the demonic humans, I thought, my jaw tightening. The ones who served the Abyss King in secret, hiding among the candidates, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. In the game, they appeared during the exam. Not many, but enough to cause chaos. Enough to kill.

I had a way to sense them, though.

Soul Perception. Mia’s gift. I could see souls — their colors, their textures, their true intentions. The darker the soul, the more corrupted the person. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was something. An edge that most candidates didn’t have.

I just hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

The river appeared through the trees about an hour later, a wide, slow-moving current that glittered faintly in the dim light.

The water was clear enough to see the bottom, smooth stones and pale sand and the occasional flash of silver as a fish darted between them. I knelt at the edge and cupped my hands, drinking until my throat stopped burning, then filled my canteen and tucked it back into my pack.

That was when I felt it — a ripple in the air, a shift in the mana around me. My instincts flared, and Soul Perception flickered at the edge of my consciousness, showing me their souls before I even heard them.

Ten souls. Some grey, some darker. Approaching from the west.

Seriously? I thought, standing up slowly, my hand drifting to Tempest’s hilt. Do these fools even realize who I am?

The figures emerged from the trees, a group of young candidates, maybe ten of them, and they weren’t all humans.

Two were elves with copper-red hair and sharp features, their bows slung across their backs. One was a beastkin with feline eyes and a tail that twitched nervously behind him. The rest were human, all wearing matching silver pins on their jackets, a sponsored squad, probably from the same house or patron.

Their leader was tall and broad-shouldered, with a smirk that said he had never been told no in his life.

"Well, well," he said, his eyes sweeping over me with the kind of casual contempt that nobles reserved for commoners and failures. "What do we have here? A lone candidate? Lost, are you?"

I didn’t answer. I was too busy looking at their souls.

Most of them were grey — selfish, arrogant, but not evil. The two elves had souls that flickered with nervous energy, like they didn’t want to be here. The beastkin’s soul was amber, warm, almost hesitant.

But two of the humans, the ones in the back, with their hoods pulled low, their souls were dark. The kind of dark that came from killing without remorse.

"Didn’t you hear me?" The leader stepped closer, his smirk widening. "I asked if you were lost."

"No," I said, keeping my voice flat. "I’m exactly where I need to be."

"Is that so?" He glanced at his companions, and they laughed on cue, nervous laughter, mostly, except for the two in the back, who didn’t laugh at all. "And where exactly is that? On your knees? Begging for mercy?"

My eye twitched. "You’re not very good at this."

"At what?"

"Being threatening." I tilted my head, letting my gaze drift to the two dark souls in the back. "Those two behind you. Your friends? They’ve killed before, haven’t they?"

The leader’s smirk faltered. The two in the back stiffened. The beastkin’s ears flattened against his skull.

"What are you talking about?" the leader said.

"Nothing." I shrugged. "Just making conversation."

The leader’s face reddened. "You think you can mock us? There are ten of us and one of you. You’re outnumbered, outranked, and outclassed."

"Probably." I pulled Tempest from its sheath, the blade humming softly in the dim light. "But I’ve fought worse odds."

The leader’s eyes widened. "You’re insane."

They lunged, and I sighed.

Well, I thought, stepping forward to meet them, time to hunt.

The fight was quick. One-sided. Messy.

I didn’t kill them, maybe because of my father’s words still echoing in my head, or maybe because my emotions were finally under control for once, but I made sure they wouldn’t be hunting anyone else for a while.

Broken arms, dislocated shoulders, a few cracked ribs. Nothing permanent or anything they couldn’t heal from. The two with the dark souls tried to run. I caught them before they made it ten feet.

"What’s your name?" I asked, holding one by the collar of his jacket.

He didn’t answer. His eyes were wide, his face pale, his soul pulsing with fear.

"I asked you a question."

"M-Marcus," he stammered. "Marcus Vane."

Marcus Vane, I thought. The name was familiar. I’d seen it on the roster. A sponsored candidate from a minor house. Nothing special.

"Why did you run?"

He didn’t answer. His soul flickered — dark, yes, but underneath the darkness, there was fear. Real fear.

I let him go. He stumbled and fell, scrambling backward on his hands and knees.

"Leave," I said. "All of you. Before I change my mind."

They didn’t need to be told twice.

The humans scrambled to their feet, clutching their bruised ribs and broken arms. The elves helped each other up, their copper-red hair matted with sweat and dirt. The beastkin was the last to leave, his amber eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than the others, his tail low between his legs.

I watched them disappear into the trees, their footsteps fading into the distance, and sighed.

These people, I thought, sheathing Tempest. Who thought they could jump a lone candidate and take his points. Some of them didn’t even want to be here. That beastkin especially. His soul was amber, not dark, not grey. He was just following orders.

I shook my head and turned east toward the mountains.

Well, I thought, there’s still some time left before night comes.

Let’s hunt more.

_

Meanwhile, in another part of the valley...

The Grade 3 Thorn Viper didn’t stand a chance.

Arthur moved before the creature could strike, his blade cutting through the air in a silver arc that severed the monster’s head from its body before it even registered the threat. The viper’s corpse twitched once, twice, and then went still, black blood pooling around the stump of its neck.

Arthur flicked the blood from his sword and sheathed it in one smooth motion.

His golden eyes scanned the surrounding trees, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of another ambush. Nothing. Just the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of birds who had no idea that a hundred thousand candidates were running through their home.

Four hours, he thought, glancing down at his bracer. Four hours since the exam started, and I’ve already lost count of how many monsters I’ve killed.

The bracer showed nothing but the countdown — six days, twenty hours, and three minutes, and the names of the candidates who had fallen or left. The number was already in the dozens. People he had never met, never spoken to, now just names on a screen.

He pushed the thought aside and kept walking.

The forest was darker. The trees were taller, the shadows were deeper, and the air was thick with the smell of earth and decay. He could feel the mana pressing against his skin, dense and heavy, like the air before a storm.

I need to find Amelia, he thought. We planned to meet near the eastern ridge, but with the random teleportation, who knows where she ended up.

He had been walking for hours, killing monsters, gathering supplies, and trying not to think about the fact that he was alone.

Arthur had spent years training for this moment, years preparing for the day when he would have to prove himself worthy of the title the Goddess had given him.

But training was different from reality. Training didn’t have monsters that wanted to eat you. Training didn’t have candidates who would kill you for points.

Focus, he told himself. Survive first. Everything else comes after.

A group found him about an hour later.

He had just finished off a Grade 2 Needletooth, a quick thrust through the eye, in and out before the creature could scream, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, his hand already on his sword, and found himself facing a group of five candidates.

They were young around his age, maybe younger, and they looked exhausted.

Their clothes were torn, their faces were pale, and their eyes had the hollow look of people who had already seen too much.

Two of them were humans, one was an elf with green hair that was matted with sweat, another was a beastkin with feline ears and a torn jacket, and the last was a half-dwarf with a broken axe handle strapped to his back.

"Please," one of them said, a girl with braided brown hair and desperate eyes, her human features pale beneath the dirt on her cheeks. "Please, we need help. We’ve been running for hours. There are monsters everywhere, and we can’t—"

"You can’t what?" Arthur asked, his voice calm.

"We can’t fight them alone." She stepped closer, her hands clasped in front of her. "We saw you kill that monster. You’re strong. Please, let us travel with you. We’ll stay out of your way. We just... we just want to survive."

Arthur looked at the group, the fear in their eyes, and the exhaustion in their postures. He could say no. He could walk away. He had his own survival to worry about, and taking care of five other people would only slow him down.

But he had also been alone once.

He had been scared, desperate, willing to beg for help from anyone who would listen. And someone had helped him. The Duke. The Nightshade family. People who had no reason to care about a random orphan from a burned village.

"...Fine," he said. "But you follow my orders. No questions. No arguments. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Understood?"

They nodded, their faces bright with relief.

Arthur turned and started walking. "Stay close. And try not to die."

The girl with the braided hair — Lara, she said her name was — turned out to be clingy. Not in a romantic way, Arthur didn’t think, but in the way that drowning people cling to anything that might keep them afloat.

She stayed close to his side, her hand occasionally brushing his arm, her eyes constantly scanning the trees for threats.

"You’re really strong," she said for the fifth time. "I’ve never seen anyone move that fast."

"You haven’t seen many people fight," Arthur replied.

"I’ve seen enough." She smiled, a nervous, shaky smile. "You’re different. Special. I can tell."

Arthur didn’t respond. He realized then that she didn’t know he was the so-called hero of the Goddess. None of them did.

Even in this advanced world, not everyone followed the Astra Union’s broadcasts, and the Church had been careful about securing information about him on the Astra-net. Too many enemies were watching.

Too many people would want him dead before he could fulfill his purpose.

He didn’t care about the secrecy. He cared about staying alive. He was tired, hungry, and more than a little annoyed that he had somehow become the babysitter for a group of strangers.

The others were quieter.

A young man named Sam, human, with a nervous twitch in his left eye, who never spoke more than two words at a time. A mage named Iris, half-elf, with pale skin and trembling hands, who kept casting shields around them even when there was no danger, her magic flickering like a candle in the wind.

And two siblings, Cora and Finn, beastkin, wolf lineage, their grey fur matted with dried blood, who bickered constantly but refused to leave each other’s side.

They were not the party he had imagined. They were not Amelia.

But they were alive. And for now, that was enough.

They made camp near a small stream about two hours before sunset. Arthur set up a perimeter, checked the surrounding trees, and made sure everyone had water before sitting down with his back against a fallen log.

I need to find Amelia, he thought again. She’s strong, sure, but even she can’t survive alone forever.

He had tried to send her a message through the bracer, but the device didn’t have a communication function. No way to reach out, no way to know where she was, no way to tell if she was even alive.

She’s fine, he told himself. She has to be.

"Arthur?"

He looked up. Lara was standing in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back, her brown eyes wide.

"What?"

"Thank you. For letting us stay with you." She hesitated. "Most people would have said no."

He nodded at her. She walked away, and Arthur stared after her for a moment before shaking his head.

This is going to be a long week, he thought.

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes.