The view above the skies was magnificent.
Nothing else broke the horizon—only Velmaris, sprawling and endless beneath us.
Its glory was fascinating.
Eleanor exhaled softly beside me. "This is truly something else," she murmured, the awe in her voice unguarded.
She wasn't wrong.
Velmaris was the beating heart of the Empire. A city of twelve billion people—densest population on the continent of Thalorica. Towering spires pierced the clouds. Bridges looped like veins. The sun caught on domes, windows, and hovering platforms—turning the capital into a constellation wrapped in gold and stone.
For a city like this to function—for an Empire this vast to hold together—
Emperor Autarx had to be more than powerful.
He had to be absolute.
Instructor Justinian had turned to face us. His eyes forward.
"We will arrive in three hours, twenty-three minutes, and seven seconds."
He let the silence settle before continuing.
"Currently, we are passing over Velmaris. After that comes the Heartland of Varea. And beyond that—the Veiled Forest, southern part of the continent."
A brief pause.
"You will be dropped off in order of your team number."
The air was colder at this altitude—sharper than I expected.
We were above everything now. The Institution. The dorms. The capital. From here, it all looked distant—like it belonged to someone else.
I spent my life preparing to serve a system I never chose. Every spar, every lecture, every correction—meant to shape me into a tool.
But they made a mistake.
I never intended to serve.
They taught me to observe patterns, predict reactions, dissect consequences. In doing so, they handed me the tools to sever my own leash.
This journey to the Veiled Forest? They think it's another test.
For me—it's the beginning.
There was only one problem, the existence of Grandmaster Nyra.
I'd assumed she was just another Instructor. A specialist in Seed evolution. Someone brought in to shape affinities, refine edge cases, and teach the nuances of control.
She was much more than that.
She'd helped dozens evolve their Seeds—some far younger than should've been possible. And yet she kept her distance, her reputation quiet.
She hid her position. Her authority.
Grandmaster of The Institution.
Meaning she was the one who started this entire experiment.
This did not make me doubt my abilities to execute my plan and escape.
But... I did have to be more careful around her.
Nothing unnatural, she still could not see that I was too on guard.
I wondered, will others here crack under pressure?
Especially Eleanor. I could sense her anxiety from here.
"We are closing in. Team One, get ready to jump off."
The words hung in the air for a moment—heavy, absurd.
Jump off?
No one moved.
"Jump?" Castinus echoed, glancing between the instructors and the open air.
Even Lukas turned, brow faintly furrowed.
"There's no platform," Basiliscus said flatly. "You expect us to—"
Justinian raised a hand, cutting him off.
He didn't explain.
He simply turned to the open edge, exhaled, and flicked his fingers once through the air.
The wind changed.
It coiled—not violently, but deliberately—like a current being woven. We could feel it. A pull. A spiral forming beneath us.
Then Lukas understood.
He stepped forward and without a word—
Jumped.
His body vanished into the swirling current below.
A second later, we saw it—his fall slowing. The wind had caught him, as if cradling him downward.
Basiliscus swore under his breath.
"Subtle showoff," Aretha muttered, then followed with a sharp breath and a short leap.
Castinus went next—gritted teeth, fists clenched.
Basiliscus lingered a second longer than the rest.
Then he stepped off.
We watched them descend, small figures spiraling down with eerie control, their fall guided by the tailored wind.
Thalia blinked.
"Well," she added, "at least it's not certain death. Would've been nice to get a warning, though."
Calixtus huffed. "This feels more like the Institution, honestly."
Eleanor added "True, would not be too surprised if we were expected to jump without assistance."
She was thinking too much.
I could tell.
Then Thalia turned to me, voice lighter again.
"When it's our turn, I vote Kaelen goes first. For morale."
She grinned.
I didn't return it.
But I didn't argue, either.
We were next.
Winged beast sped up, going further into the forest.
Then came the signal.
"Team Two, jump off."
I didn't wait.
I launched myself into the open air.
Behind me, I could sense the others moving. Thalia was quick—graceful, almost theatrical. Eleanor followed close, measured but decisive. Calixtus muttered something under his breath I couldn't hear, but he jumped too.
The fall was steep.
But the wind met us.
Instructor Justinian's mana control was astonishing—guiding us from miles away like it was nothing.
Veiled Forest was in front of us.
We were closer to landing every second.
The trees were only a couple hundred meters away.
I braced for impact—and landed like a shooting star.
And yet I was unscathed.
The three behind me fell down a couple of meters away.
I rose, scanning the tree line.
Our trial had begun.
The moment the last of us landed, the wind that had cushioned our fall dissipated like mist in sunlight.
And then we felt it.
The Veiled Forest.
It was quiet—not dead, but restrained. Like the land was holding its breath.
Trees towered above us, massive, their trunks extremely wide. Their leaves were deep green, almost black in the lightless forest, clustered so densely that not a single ray of sunlight reached the ground. The canopy formed an unbroken ceiling above—woven together by nature and something primordial—casting the entire forest in a permanent twilight.
The air was heavy with mist, clinging to our skin and clothes like a second layer. It drifted low along the roots, and every step sent glowing threads swirling in the fog.
The air was thick and damp. This distinct suspended mist was clinging to our skin. It was glowing faintly with threads of bioluminescence that shimmered.
Each step across the forest floor made a soft sound—damp leaves, thick moss, winding roots. The ground was uneven, layered with decades of organic buildup, and tangled in knotted root systems like veins just beneath the surface. Some of them pulsed faintly with mana.
The pressure in the air was real. Not crushing, but ever-present. A kind of ancient awareness that didn't watch us... it weighed us. Judged us.
Insects drifted lazily, their wings catching the faint blue light like glass shards. Somewhere deeper in the woods, something shrieked—high, quick, and distant. Then silence again. As if the forest didn't approve of the noise.
"This place is wrong," Eleanor said, voice low. Her eyes moved constantly, never resting in one place for long.
Calixtus muttered, "The pressure here is something else."
Thalia stepped closer to a tree, crouched near a root, and touched the moss. She closed her eyes for just a moment. "There's sound residue. High-frequency disturbance. Something big moved through here... recently."
Calixtus looked up through the canopy. "Feels like we're underwater."
He wasn't wrong. The weight of the air. The way light warped in the mist. The quiet.
He tried to break the tension, voice half-humored.
"Not exactly a vacation, one could say."
It didn't help much.
But we were already moving.
We didn't speak much after that.
The awe was gone. What replaced it was calculation.
Survival came first.
Food. Shelter. Water. All the necessities that would keep us alive for the week ahead. We had no idea when the first trial would begin—or if it had already.
I scanned the terrain again.
No clearings. No sun to guide by. No birdsongs, only the occasional rustle that made you question if you'd really heard it.
"We need to move," I said. "Standing still makes us prey."
No one argued.
Calixtus asked. "Any direction you favor?"
"There's a mild incline that way," Thalia said, pointing north-northeast. "Higher ground gives us better line of sight and less water accumulation. Might be a good spot for shelter."
I see that Thalia will pull her weight fine.
She would be beneficial, I was glad that I did not judge her poorly.
Eleanor nodded. "And if something's been tracking us since we landed, they'll expect hesitation. Not movement."
I started walking without another word. They followed.
Hours passed.
There was nothing but continuing forest.
Same roots. Same trees. Same silence.
But it wasn't until I passed the third leaning trunk—curved like a bow—that I truly noticed it.
A mark.
Carved faintly into the bark, low on the side. I remembered it. I'd traced it with my hand earlier, almost absentmindedly.
It shouldn't be here again.
I stopped walking.
Thalia nearly walked into me. "What is it?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I stepped toward the tree, knelt, and brushed my fingers along the groove. Same texture. Same pattern. Same moss growing at the base.
We were walking in circles.
"This tree," I said. "We've passed it already."
Eleanor frowned. "No... We've been moving straight."
"We haven't," I said flatly.
Calixtus turned, scanning the perimeter. "How? We've kept our heading."
Thalia looked over her shoulder. "I was watching the incline. It hasn't changed."
"Exactly," I said. "It should have."
There was silence for a beat. Then Thalia stepped off to the side, crouched near the edge of the path.
"There's something else," she murmured. "The sound residue—it's identical to what I read earlier. Not just similar. It's the same."
Eleanor narrowed her eyes. "You mean... like it's been copied?"
Thalia shook her head. "No. Like it replayed."
I looked down at my boots. The forest floor beneath them. Unbroken moss.
I'd been walking carefully, but I would have left some trace. A bent stalk. A misplaced step.
There was nothing.
"Whatever this is," I said, "it's not physical."
Calixtus muttered, "Illusion?"
"No," I said. "This isn't visual. The terrain is real. The air's real. The danger feels... aware."
Thalia stood up. Her voice had dropped slightly. "We're not just looping."
"We're being watched."
Then Eleanor took a sharp breath.
She was staring at her hand.
There was blood.
A thin red line across her palm—shallow, but fresh.
She turned it over, brow furrowed.
"I didn't cut myself."
I stepped toward her. "Let me see."
The cut was surgical. Clean. One edge raised, almost like something had traced it with a scalpel.
Eleanor said nothing else, but I could feel her pulse rise.
Thalia's head whipped up. Her hand lifted instinctively, as if sensing something we couldn't yet hear.
"I don't like this," Calixtus muttered. "Feels like the first trial's already begun."
He wasn't wrong.
The mist thickened around us—not abruptly, but subtly. The threads of light that clung to the roots began to dim, flickering like dying fireflies. The bioluminescence faltered.
Then, something shifted ahead.
A form. Human-shaped. Standing just beyond the mist.
It didn't move.
It didn't speak.
I stepped forward carefully, eyes narrowing.
No mana signature.
No breath.
And yet it was there.
A figure wrapped in what looked like threadbare uniform robes. Featureless. Faceless. As if molded from fog.
It raised one arm—and pointed.
Behind us.
I turned.
Another figure had formed behind the team.
Then a third.
A fourth.
They weren't moving. Just watching.
Waiting.
The trees groaned.
Thalia's got ready for combat and called me: "Kaelen."
"I see them," I said.
This wasn't an illusion. It wasn't projection. These weren't simulations.
One of the figures began to move.
Not walk. Not glide.
It lurched—like a marionette with tangled strings. Limbs flailing, arms swinging wide without rhythm. Its legs didn't bend properly. Each step was too long, too fast—like gravity didn't apply the same way.
It was coming straight for us.
Thalia drew her hand back, readying sound.
Eleanor shifted into stance, lips parted slightly, breath shallow.
Calixtus muttered, "That's not human."
He wasn't wrong.
I activated Perfect Flow.
Mana flooded my limbs in a single pulse, and I dashed forward—blitzing past the others in a streak of precision. No wasted motion. No delay.
The figure didn't react in time.
My fist connected with its head—clean, full-force.
The impact crushed something.
I felt it—the shattering of bone beneath that faceless surface. Whatever it was, it had a jaw. Or something like one. The force launched it backward, tearing through the air and slamming it into a tree.
The trunk cracked. Bark exploded.
It dropped to the ground like a discarded puppet.
We watched.
And then it rose. Effortless. Silent.
Its head twisted back into place—not slowly, not violently—just wrong. The face reformed itself. Smooth, featureless, unbroken. As if I had never struck it.
Thalia stepped closer to me, voice low. "Kaelen... that should've killed it."
"It didn't," I replied.
It stood there, waiting.
Still.
The others didn't move.
Neither did the rest of the figures, now fully visible in the mist—standing in a wide arc around us, silent and unmoving.
They weren't attacking yet.
But they weren't going anywhere either.
And I had this distinct feeling in my gut that they were not the biggest threat here.