The march from Solna began at dawn, the village still cloaked in morning mist.
Led by Ardyn Vale and a handful of guards, the group of candidates moved steadily along the ancient trade routes that wound through wild forests and barren hills. The journey to the Capital City would take more than a week on foot, and though spirits were high at first, reality soon set in.
The road was harsh and unforgiving.
By midday, the sun blazed fiercely overhead. Dust clung to their clothes, and blisters formed on the feet of those unaccustomed to long marches.
Before the day grew hotter, Ardyn called a brief halt and gathered the candidates around.
"Listen well," he said, his voice cutting through the murmur of exhaustion. "Beyond the villages and towns, you will face many dangers, especially beasts. Understand that they, too, have their own hierarchy."
The group leaned closer, curiosity sharpening their fatigue-dulled senses.
"Beasts are ranked from Level 1 to Level 10," Ardyn explained. "Level 1 are the weakest—creatures like Horned Hares and Duskrender Panthers. Level 5 and above are enough to threaten groups of armed men. Level 10..." He paused, letting the weight of the words settle. "Level 10 beasts are calamities in their own right."
A chill passed among the candidates.
"And beyond that," Ardyn continued, his gaze intense, "exist the Stellar Beasts."
Gasps rippled through the group.
"These are creatures that, like cultivators, have surpassed mortal limits. They tread the Stellar Realms, embodying the power of the heavens themselves. Against them, normal men are but ants."
Eryon felt a cold knot form in his stomach—but beneath it, a flicker of excitement stirred.
Kael, ever the voice of optimism, whispered, "Let's hope we don't meet one."
Ryn only grunted in agreement, scanning the woods warily.
The journey resumed with a heavier mood.
Eryon moved steadily, his new sword strapped across his back, every step fueled by the memory of his parents' pride—and the tiny life that would soon join their family.
Kael tried to lighten the mood with jokes, though his smile became more strained with each passing mile. Ryn marched stoically, his face grim and determined.
The first true sign of danger came on the second night.
They made camp in a shallow valley, surrounded by thick woods. Ardyn ordered sentries posted in shifts, warning them that the wilds around the Capital were not safe.
That very night, the howls began.
Low and mournful at first, then growing louder, closer. Shapes moved at the edge of the firelight—lean, shadowy figures with gleaming eyes.
"Dire Wolves," Ardyn said grimly, drawing a long blade from his side. "Prepare yourselves."
The candidates formed a rough defensive circle, hearts pounding. For many, this would be their first real battle outside of the controlled conditions of the trials.
The wolves attacked in waves—swift, savage, merciless.
Eryon fought shoulder to shoulder with Kael and Ryn, his blade flashing as he parried snapping jaws and struck back with fierce determination. His movements, honed during the survival test, now served him well.
Kael moved with surprising agility, using his small frame to dodge and strike vital points, while Ryn fought like a wall of iron, absorbing blows and counterattacking with brutal force.
When the wolves finally retreated, leaving several of their own dead behind, the candidates stood victorious—but shaken.
Not all had fared equally. A few bore deep gashes; others sat trembling, realizing how thin the line between survival and death truly was.
Ardyn surveyed the aftermath with cold eyes.
"This is the path you've chosen," he said. "There is no turning back."
The march resumed at dawn, the survivors moving more warily now, every shadow a potential threat.