Chapter 325 – Into the Woods

Chapter 325 – Into the Woods

 

Wind rustled the dark canopies. Towering trunks and branches contracted in the falling temperatures, filling the woods with their ominous creakings.

Flynn froze when an owl hooted, expanding his Advanced Mana Sense. Far on his left, a glowing Red signature glided on silent wings, its talons closed on a chubby rodent that was nibbling on a mushroom.

A panicked squeak, followed by a soft crunch.

The woods returned to their eerie quiet.

Sorry, little guy. You can’t let your stomach control you. Flynn said a silent prayer for the dead mouse.

For good or ill, the owl didn’t carry a plate; he wouldn’t have to climb the tree to reach its nest. His hands still bore the scratches from catching a very mean squirrel to steal its bronze tag.

I didn’t even touch his stash of nuts. Such ingrate…

Channeling mana into Heightened Perception, he could crisply hear the flitting wings of moths and insects skittering among the dead leaves. Every sound was a piece of the woods around him.

Flynn retracted Mana Sense to his close surroundings. While useful in the dark, other applicants might notice the skill, especially if he met one of the upperclassmen.

Free plates, my foot.

Even without active skills, each student working as an assistant examiner remained dangerous. He had seen a petite girl bash a team of three on their heads—a single strike each without breaking a sweat.

He wasn’t going to test if there were weaker upperclassmen with his face. His Luck was decent, but not Kai’s kind of good.

So damn cold…

A light crystal poked his ribs beneath his linen and woolen tunics. The glow escaped the buttons of his coat, illuminating the ground ahead, just enough to avoid stepping on a twig.

While Heightened Perception could enhance a sense above the others, the distinction wasn’t perfect yet. It was the curse of a high Perception—everything was more vivid.

His sight got keener as the cold got sharper.

Uh… I think I might hate Winter.

The travelogue of the Hart Province called it the cozy season, a chance to enjoy hot beverages and admire the snow-covered scenery.

All propaganda. Should have guessed that when the booklet came so cheap. Flynn huffed. His fogged breath tickled his nose.

Though the woods sheltered him from the wind, they didn’t stop the drop in temperature brought on by nightfall. Threads of frost already wove on the blades of the tallest weeds. He had stopped feeling his ears an hour ago, but rubbing them would make too much noise.

Those jerks knew about it.

When Raelion’s examiners ordered plain clothes for the testing, he hadn’t anticipated a midnight trek in the woods.

At least, he had worn a comfortable pair of boots to keep his feet warm. Back in the field, more than one patrician had paraded in lustrous silks and sandals—they wouldn’t be having a great time tonight.

“…stay away!”

A yell rose above the murmurs of the woods.

Flynn stilled mid-step, eyes closed and head tilted to pinpoint the noise.

Several voices argued hundreds of meters to his right.

One, two… six of them. Despite not being a team test, people grouped to reach their gates—or more often—to ambush other participants for plates.

Bright lights pierced the underbrush. Flynn looked away not to ruin his night vision. The shouts turned to metal clashing. Three against three—a worst-case scenario.

Damn fools.

If one side didn’t quickly prevail, the noise would attract more opportunists and devolve into a melee free-for-all. No one would care about the number on your plate then. It already happened near the central meadow, and he wasn’t eager to participate again.

Flynn skulked in the opposite direction with Phantom Steps; the cost of Shadow mana was reduced in the dark. He dashed on the tree roots to avoid leaving a trail when he had the sudden Hunch to hug a tree.

Not one to question his whims, he leaned on the old oak, his cheek on the coarse trunk just as the air shifted behind him.

The breeze brushed the hairs on his neck.

A shrouded individual had run past him.

That… was quite close.

Flynn listened for a few seconds in case the shade returned, but the guy must have headed for the fight. It was a good reminder that there were other participants skilled at stealth.

Standing back up, he patted the gnarly oak.

Thank you, tree. Maybe consider moisturizing more. Your bark’s a bit rough.

Clashes and screams echoed behind him. The battle had turned into a free melee, as predicted. It would likely grow larger before dying down.

Sometimes being right still sucks…

In case of more invisible runners, he picked a less obvious path on the roots. Before his tenth step, a crystal lantern lit the shrubs ahead.

Really? Those loud idiots…

A single set of strides was fast approaching. From their open lantern and bold pace, they must be an upperclassman.

Thank you, but no.

A gold plate wasn’t worth the risk of running into a monster. Flynn strengthened his shroud and sped away from the battle, only slowing when the woods returned to their creaking darkness.

Just reach the gate. Yeah, right.

The Head Shouter was such a bald-faced liar.

He could orient in the dark just fine, and Keen Hunch warned him whenever a beast came near. No, the true issue was people—which really wasn’t surprising. Crossing the wrong individuals meant immediately losing the test and his chance to enroll in Raelion.

Maybe I should have joined a team.

Despite seeing a few forming around the meadow, the risk of backstabbing was too high. Blind gambles were a fool’s hope. He only liked betting when he knew all the players and rules—and how far he could bend them.

It’d be a disaster waiting to happen. How would you even split gold and silver plates?

He had taken a roundabout route to his gate to avoid getting ambushed, but each encounter pushed him further off course. He would have long gotten lost if he hadn’t memorized the entire map, or spent two months adventuring.

The reward for reaching the exit dropped by one point every half an hour.

Three points out, almost four…

Flynn breathed a long puff of vapor to settle his nerves—caution and patience were key, more so because he started in the fifth group.

Not only did he lose the chance of finding easy plates, the eight gates weren’t numbered in order, so the fifth gate bordered the first and seventh. Rushing for the exit was only viable for the first group out; starting twenty-five minutes later, the risk of running into other candidates was too high.

Flynn wasn’t even sure the five bonus points made up for it, but he never expected total fairness. People had to adapt.

This should be far enough.

Getting too close to the outer wall wasn’t good either. The trees grew sparser, and it was an obvious route for anyone who got lost. Just follow the boundary of the hunting ground up to your exit.

Flynn turned his path to the fifth gate. He could still make good time and search for plates on the way there. Beasts often carried one, and he had found another wrapped in a bush of ivy.

Heightening his senses, he sifted the noise. Wind rustled the canopies, the distant rush of a stream, a beetle clicked beneath a fallen log, branches creaked, and a chime…?

What— Oh, fuck.

His Hunch strangled his hopes of stealth. He had been spotted. Mana rushed into his skills, twigs snapping underfoot; his muscles burned and flexed as he changed direction at full Strength.

He kicked off a trunk to leap through the highest branches of a shrub. Wind and leaves whipped his face; the cold no longer a bother. His left boot scraped a root in the landing, the other struck solid ground. He flared his mana to maintain the momentum, ready for another stride—

The chime echoed in front of him.

Shit.

Flynn dug his heels into the soft ground, skidding to a halt at the price of his soles. His hands gripped the steel daggers underneath his coat, gathering Lightning mana to confront the short shadow who barred his path.

Huh?

“Don’t try to escape.” A young voice called. “It’s useless!”

A crystal illuminated a boy with short, dark-green hair. The newcomer pointed a greatsword at him, chest puffed up and back straight to make every centimeter of his modest height count. His fierce posture was somewhat undermined by his round face and chubby cheeks.

A child?

Flynn looked at the kid who didn’t reach his collarbone. He would have never guessed the boy to be fourteen if that wasn’t the lowest age to enroll. Relaxing his grip on the daggers, his humor was only slightly chipped when he noticed the little bud was Yellow ★★.

Not an upperclassman, though hardly better.

Just my luck. I had to run into a pocket-sized patrician terror.

“You have good senses.” The boy squared him up with curious eyes. His oversized greatsword never wavered, measuring the same height. “The others didn’t realize they’d been spotted till I bonked their hea— Er… till I knocked them out. If you give me your plate, I won’t harm you. An examiner will come to get you out. And you can try again next year.”

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The kid clenched his jaw to make the baby fat on his face less apparent. As a result, each word came out stilted and still too high-pitched for the authoritative tone he aimed for.

Should I call him Young Master, or Sir Chubby?

Flynn bit his tongue not to chuckle. The feat became notably easier when his gaze fell on the collection of bronze, silver and gold plates clinking on the kid’s belt.

Unable to avoid a quiet gulp, he forced his attention to stay on his opponent’s face.

Forty-four points if he didn’t miscount. More than he needed to pass the threshold for Martial—

“Hey!” The boy narrowed his eyes, threateningly waving the slab of steel. “Are you ignoring me?”

“Sorry. You just took me by surprise. I’m in group five.” Flynn showed the number on his silver tag. Even knowing the boy could be a formidable adversary, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anxious. “It’d be useless to you.”

A powerful Mana Sense battered him from head to toes.

“Ugh, not again…” Sir Chubby lowered the greatsword. The proud posture deflated into a sulk. “Why are you even here? And no other plates? This is the path for group four. Are you lost? Your gate is in that direction.”

The boy waved his weapon just a few degrees off from where Flynn remembered his exit.

Sounds reasonable enough.

“I was running and…” Flynn scratched his neck, feigning embarrassment. “Anyway… thanks. You probably wouldn’t have had that problem with your strength.”

He made his tone respectful, hunching his shoulders to look shorter. If Kai was anything to go by, little guys hated to be reminded of their tiny proportions. And poking them often resulted in violent outbursts.

“Uhm… If you’re looking for plates, there was a melee over there.” Flynn vaguely gestured in the direction. “It was a couple minutes ago. But with your speed, you might catch the stragglers. I saw an upperclassman join.”

Sir Chubby snapped to look where he pointed, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Where? I mean, where exactly?”

He’s either very gullible or has a skill to detect lies.

“I… Uhm…” Showing his open palms, Flynn stepped closer to the boy to explain. Hunch warned a sneak attack would harm both of them, not that he would hit a kid, even a patrician one.

“It was about… that way.” He pointed, still vaguely.

Sir Chubby squinted at the underbrush, brows furrowed. “How far do you mean? Did you see any landmarks?”

“I… I think I passed a stream.” Flynn crouched to look from his same height. “It should be past that silver pine. Follow the slope down and you can’t miss it.”