The forest pulsed with tension. Somewhere far off, another scream tore through the silence—sharp, agonized, and bone-deep. It wasn't the first of the day, but this one felt different, more urgent.
Michael ducked under a thick branch, eyes sharp. "Something's wrong. That scream… it wasn't like the others."
Torren ran beside him, scanning the undergrowth. "Feels like things are getting out of hand."
Michael's voice dropped, intense. "We need to hurry."
Elsewhere, Rob glanced sideways at Ralph, his pace steady but firm. "That's the third one."
Ralph grunted. "Yeah. And none of 'em sounded good."
They didn't say more, the air around them already heavy with tension. Every step pressed deeper into uncertainty.
In another part of the forest, Felix paused only briefly as he heard the echo. "Still screaming?"
Elaira nodded, pulling her gloves tighter. "We shouldn't waste any more time."
A few miles off, Erdan and Akatsuki moved quietly through the thickets, their movements calm but swift.
"That was Zigrane again," Akatsuki said, his tone unreadable.
Erdan didn't look at him. "Then we're heading the right way."
Even the usually composed Katsu showed a hint of agitation. His steps quickened, his fingers brushing against his belt as if preparing for something.
Renald glanced sideways at him. "Still meditating, or are we running now?"
Katsu didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Across the forest, each team felt the shift. The trial was unraveling, evolving into something none of them expected. No longer a test of finding a sphere—it had become a race against something they didn't understand.
And while they ran, another figure moved quietly between trees.
The elder.
His steps were deliberate, neither fast nor slow. His presence calm, yet his eyes burned with awareness.
"So… it wasn't just a coincidence," he murmured.
His fingers brushed against the bark of a nearby tree, tracing the faint outline of an ancient symbol.
"If they're here, then it's more than just a test now." He looked toward the heart of the forest. "It seems I'll need to intervene… before these children are swallowed by the storm."
The clearing held silence like a wound. Charred earth, the scorched trunk of a fallen tree, and in its center—Zigrane. Burned. Still. Unconscious.
The faint glow of the sphere flickered beside him.
Two teams stepped into the clearing almost at the same time, halting as their eyes caught sight of the wreckage.
"…Is that…?" one murmured.
"Zigrane," another confirmed.
Neither team moved immediately toward the sphere. There was an unspoken dread that hung in the air. Whatever had happened, it hadn't ended peacefully.
Then the argument began.
"We got here first," someone said.
"No. We did."
"You're dreaming."
Tension crackled in the air again.
That's when the man stepped into the clearing.
Cloaked. Silent.
The same hooded stranger seen walking with Billy earlier. His presence turned the atmosphere sharp, brittle.
"Who the hell are you?" a team member demanded.
No answer.
He stepped closer.
One of the teens reached for a weapon, hesitated.
"You'd better back off," someone warned.
But the man only continued forward.
The clash was sudden.
Blows exchanged. Bodies thrown. The man fought without spells, without fanfare. His movements were fast, efficient, brutal. He wasn't toying with them—he simply didn't need to try.
Both teams quickly found themselves on the defensive, forced to retreat, scatter, anything to survive.
It wasn't a battle. It was a demonstration.
A third team approached—more cautious, more aware.
Renald's eyes immediately locked onto the chaos in the clearing. "What in the world…"
Katsu moved in silence, stepping past debris, ignoring the groans of fallen fighters.
The cloaked man finally turned to acknowledge them. For the first time, he looked as if he might be taking something seriously.
Renald cracked his neck. "You're not just another contender, are you?"
The man didn't respond. But his stance shifted.
Katsu gave a short nod to Renald.
Renald didn't need more. He leapt forward.
Katsu followed, his motion fluid, balanced—a sharp contrast to Renald's aggression.
The air pulsed again as a new battle began.
It wasn't clear whether they stood a chance—but what mattered now wasn't victory.
It was survival.