First Hunt
It had been a week since arriving at the Academy, and just yesterday, Mr. Alvin had informed the new students about their first hunt—a field trial designed to thrust them into real combat and test their mettle beyond the controlled training halls. Today, the promise of challenge and opportunity hung heavy in the cool morning air.
The Academy buzzed with subdued intensity as Solace awoke before dawn, his body still echoing with the aches of relentless training and the residual pulse of his newly refined essence. Today was not for idle meditation or routine sparring—it was time for his first true test in the field.
After a quick breakfast in the modest communal dining hall, Solace met Lyra in the corridor. The cool morning light filtered through high windows, casting long, shifting shadows along the stone floors. Although both remained largely silent, an unspoken camaraderie had grown between them over days of shared hardship and the relentless pursuit of power.
"Ready?" Lyra asked in a low, steady voice, her determined eyes meeting his.
"As I'll ever be," Solace replied, feeling the weight of expectation settle around him like an old friend. Together, they joined a small group of candidates summoned by the Academy for their first field mission—a controlled hunt designed to test their combat readiness under real conditions.
They gathered in an open courtyard at the inner city's edge, a vast arena circled by protective wards and glowing surveillance runes. The space was both foreboding and exhilarating—a perfect stage to prove one's worth. A stern instructor, Alvin, stood before them. His uniform bore the unmistakable insignia of the Association, and his gaze was both piercing and calculating.
"Today," Alvin announced, his voice echoing off ancient stone walls, "you will hunt in teams. Your objective is to subdue a group of controlled Rank 1 beasts. Show us your ability to work together and harness your powers without hesitation. This is your trial in the field—fail to coordinate, and you will pay dearly."
A murmur of apprehension passed through the assembled candidates. Solace's team—himself, Lyra, and two other determined students—formed quickly. They were led to a portal shimmering with a pale blue light. With a final nod from Alvin, the portal activated, and the group stepped through.
They emerged into a landscape both stark and raw—a vast training ground set in a secluded part of the wastelands. Here, nature's brutal beauty was on full display: jagged rock outcroppings, sparse vegetation clinging desperately to life, and a sky heavy with impending dusk. Controlled Rank 1 beasts roamed the area; creatures designed to mimic the wild predators of the real wastelands, though stripped of lethal unpredictability.
Tension filled the air as the team spread out in a loose circle. Solace's heart pounded in time with his measured breaths. His shadow—ever his constant ally—flickered at his feet, waiting to be shaped into a weapon. Within minutes, the first controlled beast—a snarling, wolf-like creature with matted fur and feral eyes—streaked toward the group from behind a rocky outcrop.
Instinct took over. Lyra's eyes flashed as she stepped forward, summoning a precise gust of wind that knocked the creature off balance. In that split second, Solace's shadow coalesced into a spear. With the force of his rigorous training, he hurled it; the inky projectile arced perfectly, impaling the beast in the chest. The creature collapsed instantly, its howl fading into a single, resounding thud.
A brief cheer erupted from his teammates—a hard-won, silent acknowledgment of success. But there was no time to celebrate. Two more beasts soon emerged, their snarls melding into a cacophony of wild aggression. The team moved with practiced coordination: while Lyra created diversions with controlled bursts of wind, Solace and the others formed protective barriers and flanked the advancing threats.
Amid the chaos, Lyra's abilities shone brilliantly. As one beast charged from the side—a snarling, dog-like predator with a powerful, jerking gait—she extended her arms. In an instant, razor-sharp wind blades materialized, slicing through the air. With swift, precise movements, she sent the blades hurtling toward the creature. One wind blade struck true, slashing its flank and sending it crashing to the ground in agony; another grazed a second beast, leaving deep, painful wounds that slowed its advance. The sound of tearing flesh and the creature's agonized growls mingled with the rhythmic clash of Solace's weapons.
In the ensuing melee, Solace's instincts took over with lethal precision. When one beast lunged, he drew his thin, curved sword. In a seamless motion honed by countless hours of training, he wrapped his shadow around the blade—inky tendrils coiling along the metal until it pulsed with augmented strength. With a swift, fluid motion, he struck; his enhanced sword sliced through the creature's defenses with brutal elegance, sending it staggering before collapsing.
As another beast charged from the flank, Solace quickly shifted his shadow into a protective shield. The barrier flared against the onslaught, absorbing the impact of a snapping jaw before shattering under the force, sending him sprawling. Pain exploded through his body, and he tasted blood as he rolled aside, narrowly avoiding a crushing bite.
Regaining his footing, Solace pivoted. With a burst of determination, he reformed his shadow into a spear once more and hurled it at the remaining threat. The precise strike impaled the creature in the chest, ending its threat once and for all. Every movement was a seamless blend of instinct and rigorous training—a dance of flesh, steel, and shadow under the watchful eyes of his teammates.
For Solace, each strike was more than a physical act—it was a declaration that he could wield his power in the unpredictable theater of battle. The rush of adrenaline mingled with the steady pulse of his refined essence, driving him forward even as fatigue threatened to slow his steps. The memory of standing firm under Williams' pressure echoed in his mind, fortifying his resolve.
After what felt like both an eternity and an instant, the final controlled beast fell. The training ground was silent, save for the heavy breathing of the team. Alvin's voice, cool and measured, broke the silence. "Well done," he announced. "You have demonstrated the ability to coordinate under pressure. Record your points and return to the Academy."
Back at the Academy, Solace's wristband flashed with new numbers—points awarded for the successful mission. When he glanced at it, the display now read 1500 points—a significant increase from his starting tally. The performance of his group had not only earned them praise from the instructors but had also boosted their internal currency—a resource that would prove invaluable in future trials.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the Academy's stone walls glowed with the last vestiges of daylight, Solace returned to his room. The adrenaline of the hunt had given way to a profound exhaustion that sank deep into his bones. He lay on his new bed, replaying the day's events in his mind—the thrill of combat, the precision of his strikes, and the unity of his team.
Across the hall, Lyra sat by her window, silently reflecting on her own performance. In the quiet of the night, the trials of the day merged with her long-held desire to break through—to ascend to Rank 2. The controlled hunt was more than a test; it was a critical step toward the greater challenges that lay ahead.
In that still moment, though separated by a thin wall, both Solace and Lyra felt the weight of their ambitions. They had proven themselves today, yet the journey was far from over. Every point earned, every beast subdued, was just another stepping stone on the long, arduous path to mastery.
As Solace finally drifted into sleep, the echoes of clashing swords and the rush of shadows still resonating in his mind, he whispered a quiet vow to himself: he would break through—to ascend to Rank 2 and beyond.
And somewhere, in the silent corridors of the Academy, the seed of greatness had begun to take root.