CHAPTER 19: SURVIVAL TRIAL (5)

Chapter 19 - Survival Trial (5)

The cave smelled faintly of iron and wet fur. The corpses of wolves had been dragged outside and buried beneath ice, their crimson trails frozen into jagged sculptures. Michael sat cross-legged just past the cave mouth, the Drakran Sword laid flat across his lap, its blackened steel humming faintly like a heart refusing to rest.

"Haa..." He exhaled, the vapor condensing into a white mist. His muscles burned, mana circuits still screaming from overuse. If he hadn’t stabilized them with potions mid-fight, he would have collapsed hours ago.

He raised a palm and frost spread from his fingertips, crawling like crystalline ivy across the cave entrance. With a soft crack-crack-crack, a jagged wall of ice formed, leaving only a small gap for airflow. The barrier glistened under the moonlight outside—like the maw of a sleeping beast, daring any intruder to step inside.

"Good enough." Michael muttered, leaning back against the wall. His stomach growled. He pulled a strip of dried meat from his pouch, chewing without enthusiasm. The taste was leathery, salted too heavily, but right now efficiency mattered more than taste.

He tapped his smartwatch. The translucent blue hologram flickered into life.

[ Ranking ]

#1. Michael Willson – 9,260 pts

#2. Leon Lionheart – 6,350 pts

#3. Selena Veylan – 5,110 pts

#4. Edric William – 4,880 pts

#5. Aiden Stromfang – 4,440 pts

[ Candidates Remaining: 126 / 360 ]

Michael’s brows furrowed.

"...Too fast." His voice was quiet, but the cave walls carried it back to him. "I’m widening the gap too early. They’ll notice."

The system’s cold blue light reflected off his eyes. He remembered what happened in the game—too much attention too soon always invited disaster. Yet, he needed points. He needed the edge.

He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, letting the mana within him circulate like a river over rocks. The hum of frost filled the silence, and for the first time since the trial began, he allowed himself to rest.

---

Leon POV

Elsewhere on the island...

The crunch of stone echoed across a rocky plateau. A lizard the size of a horse lunged forward, its body plated with scales harder than steel. Leon’s blade flashed in the fading sunlight.

Spark—!

Steel struck stone. Shards of rock burst outward. The creature hissed, its tail whipping like a club. Leon dropped low, fire surging along his blade.

"Lionheart Sword Style—Second Fang: Crimson Fang Strike!"

The blade ignited, cutting upward in a burning arc. The Rock Lizard’s armored chest split, magma-like blood spilling out before the monster toppled with a thunderous crash.

Leon wiped sweat from his brow, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "Still... taking too much stamina."

He glanced at his watch. His points were rising steadily, but his eyes widened at the gap.

Michael – 9,260.

Leon – 6,350.

He tightened his grip on his sword. "That guy... he’s widening the gap even more?"

A grin formed on his lips, sharp and eager. His heart thumped—not with envy, but excitement.

"So you’re not a pushover after all, Michael Willson. Fine. I’ll catch up. No matter what."

The wind carried away his laughter as he sheathed his blade and pressed deeper into the wilderness.

---

Aurelia POV

The marshland stank of rot. Steam hissed as fire clashed against swamp water, illuminating the shadows. Aurelia spun, her crimson hair flowing behind her, fire gathering at her fingertips.

"Flame Burst!"

A sphere of fire exploded outward, engulfing a cluster of goblins. Their shrieks echoed, cut short as their bodies dissolved into ash.

Panting, Aurelia wiped her forehead. Her mana reserves screamed in protest, but more goblins emerged from the murk. "Persistent pests..."

Her eyes narrowed. She formed another fireball but staggered. Her vision blurred—too much mana spent too quickly.

Suddenly—clang!

A blade came down where she stood. Aurelia twisted aside, fire flaring at her heels. Another student, a boy with a sneer and an iron spear, glared at her.

"Those kills are mine, noble girl."

Aurelia’s lips curled into a smirk. "Really now?"

The next instant, the swamp ignited. Fire roared around her, her figure glowing like a goddess of flame. She dashed forward, her blade wreathed in heat.

Spark—! Their weapons clashed, light scattering across the swamp. Aurelia’s smirk widened as her flames devoured his defenses.

"You picked the wrong opponent."

Moments later, he lay unconscious, his smartwatch flashing red in elimination mode. Aurelia brushed ash off her shoulder, breathing heavily.

"...And I still think of him in the middle of all this. Tch." She muttered, annoyed at herself.

---

Edric POV

Elsewhere, a golden radiance split the night sky.

"Divine Smite!"

The ground shattered as holy energy tore through monsters in a blinding wave. Dozens of creatures fell, their bodies disintegrated by pure light.

Edric stood amidst the carnage, his armor glowing with gilded radiance, his sword resting casually on his shoulder. He looked down at the corpses with disgust.

"Pathetic. And they expect me to share this trial with peasants?"

Eric slashes down a beast with precise, furious strikes. His breathing is heavy but controlled. Ron, his loyal follower, runs up holding a glowing crystal tablet displaying the current rankings.

Ron is panting

"Eric... the rankings just updated"

Eric wiping monster blood from his blade, impatient

"Don’t keep me waiting, Ron. Where do we stand?"

Ron hesitant

"You... you’ve slipped. Rank four."

Eric snaps his head around, eyes blazing

"Four? Impossible. Who dares stand above me?"

Ron reading nervously

"First place... Michael Willson. The commoner.

Second... Leon Lionheart.

Third... Princess Serena.

And then... you."

Eric’s grip tightens on his sword, knuckles white. His jaw clenches with rage.

Eric furious, muttering

"Michael Willson... a peasant who crawled out of the dirt now dares to claim first?

And Leon— that bastard child... my family’s shame— above me?

And Serena? Hmph, her royal blood must have bought her that place."

Ron carefully said

"Eric, the rankings don’t lie. They’ve earned it—"

Eric cutting him off, voice sharp like steel

"No. I am the heir of the number one family in the Hunter world. The Will of William does not bow to pretenders.

This trial isn’t over. They’ve only stolen the spotlight for a moment."

Ron encouraging, yet cautious

"Then... what will you do?"

Eric looks up at the blood-red sky, smirking with cold determination. A dangerous aura flares around him.

Eric low, venomous

" I’ll hunt. Harder. Faster. Smarter"

"Let them enjoy their ranks while they can."

"By the end of this trial... I’ll remind the world why the William name stands above all others."

He raises his sword, its edge gleaming with killing intent as another monster approaches. He charges forward, his rage fueling every strike.

Ron under his breath, half in awe, half in fear

"Eric William... won’t accept being anything less than number one."

---

Surveillance Room

The crystal walls of the surveillance chamber shimmered, projecting dozens of scenes across the air. Flickering images of sword clashes, firestorms, lightning strikes, and monster roars painted the room in chaotic hues.

Professors and instructors stood in small clusters, eyes glued to their respective students. The atmosphere was tense, analytical yet beneath it, a faint current of rivalry ran, as if each instructor quietly rooted for "their" bloodline or legacy.

Nathan Pendragon stroked his chin, eyes narrowed as Leon’s screen filled with sparks from his Crimson Fang Strike.

"His swordplay is sharper than last month’s training report suggested." Nathan’s voice carried a note of approval. "The Lionheart Swordstyle is awakening in him. Arnab’s blood flows true."

Ronwell Hart scoffed, folding his arms. "Hmph. Swordstyle or not, he burns stamina recklessly. He swings with fire in his heart, but not patience in his blade. He’ll pay for it if he meets something beyond his endurance."

Sara Everheart adjusted her glasses, her tone colder. "He’s only sixteen. That much growth in this time frame is remarkable. Don’t dismiss him too easily."

On another screen, Aiden Stromfang roared as his sword crackled with lightning, cleaving a monster in half with reckless bravery. His laughter echoed even through the magical projection.

"Ha! Look at that boy!" Garrick Dawson barked with a laugh, slapping the table. "Scark Stromfang’s heir—bold as his father, wild as a storm. That one has the spirit of a frontliner."

"Spirit, yes." Sara’s lips curved in a slight smile. "But spirit alone gets you killed. He charges without thought. If he wasn’t from Stromfang, he’d have died in his first raid."

Alastor Greythorn leaned against the wall, his voice smooth, almost sardonic. "Bloodline or not, the battlefield doesn’t play favorites. Still, you can’t deny his instincts."

The scene shifted to Selena Veylan. Her shadow affinity spread like a dark mist as she gracefully dismantled a band of monsters. Her movements were precise, almost regal.

Adam Beckett, the Magic Theory instructor, clasped his hands together. "Ah, elegance. Refined control, sharp execution. Truly the discipline of royalty. That girl fights as though she were raised on a stage."

Nathan frowned. "Or pampered too long in a palace. Precision is admirable, but she lacks adaptability. She handles monsters, yes—but what about a clever opponent?"

Then Aurelia’s scene appeared—her flames turning swampland into hellfire. The room grew warmer as the projection flared.

Ronwell Hart smirked. "The Miller girl... A prodigy with fire. Look at her unleash."

"She overextends." Sara’s tone was sharp. "She has raw talent, but no restraint. Life affinity or not, if she continues like this, she’ll cripple her own mana circuits before she reaches third year."

Finally, Edric William’s screen. Holy light rained down like divine judgment, monsters being erased in golden waves. Several instructors frowned.

Cedric Ironguill muttered first, voice thick with disdain. "Overkill. That’s not combat, that’s spectacle."

Garrick Dawson spat. "Arrogant brat. He fights for dominance, not survival. You can see it in his eyes—he doesn’t respect the battlefield."

Yet a few instructors remained silent. The William family’s reputation hung like a blade over their heads. To insult Edric outright was to risk political suicide.

At the back of the room, Vice Principal Sophia Emberheart’s eyes swept across all the feeds, her arms folded. She finally spoke, voice calm yet resonant enough to cut through the bickering.

"Look closely. Leon Lionheart fights with justice, Aiden Stromfang with courage, Selena Veylan with grace, Aurelia Miller with passion, Edric William with arrogance. Each carries the weight of their bloodline... but none yet carry their own name."

The staff grew quiet at her words.

Her gaze shifted briefly toward Michael’s projection in the corner, where he sat silently in his cave, sword on his lap, frost sealing the entrance. Unlike the others, his screen showed no flare of spectacle, no grandiose slaughter just stillness, calm calculation.

Sophia’s eyes softened, though her tone remained professional.

"And then there is the commoner... who fights like he has no need to prove anything."

For a moment, even the instructors had no words. The crystal screens flickered, light playing across their thoughtful faces.

At the far end, Principal Herald Crimson finally stirred, his deep crimson eyes surveying the room. He said nothing, but the faintest of smiles curved his lips.

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.

---

Back in the cave, the night grew colder. Michael’s frost barrier glittered faintly in the moonlight. He sat with his eyes closed, mana circulating steadily, Drakran Sword resting across his knees.

The wilderness outside was alive with distant roars and screams of other students fighting, monsters hunting. But inside the cave, there was only silence.

Michael opened one eye, gazing at the frozen barrier. "The first night..." He whispered.

His breathing slowed, his mana began to stabilize, and the exhaustion of the day finally weighed down his eyelids.

The survival exam had only just begun.

---