Chapter 15
Ren woke before the forest did.
The air was cold, damp enough that it clung to his skin, and the ache in his body greeted him before his thoughts fully formed. He lay still for several breaths, counting them, gauging the damage.
Bruised ribs. A deep soreness in his legs. Mana pathways strained but intact.
Alive.
That was still the most important part.
He pushed himself upright slowly, careful not to aggravate the injuries he'd earned over the past days. The shelter—formed naturally from interwoven roots and stone—was quiet, but not peaceful. The ground outside carried faint vibrations, almost like a distant hum.
Movement.
Across from him, Lira was already awake.
She knelt near the entrance, one palm pressed against the earth while thin vines crept outward in widening arcs. Her brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.
"They're close," she said quietly. "A lot of them. Weak… but many."
Ren exhaled through his nose.
Of course.
Places where mana gathered always drew attention. And after days of fighting, burning, and bleeding in this region, it was inevitable that monsters would start swarming.
"How long before they reach us?" he asked.
Lira opened her eyes. "Minutes. Maybe less."
That settled it.
"We leave now," Ren said, already standing.
There was no argument.
They moved quickly, gathering what little they had. Ren wrapped his remaining vine coils around his waist out of habit, though he knew he wouldn't rely on them for movement anymore. His wooden blade—scarred, blackened, and cracked—was still serviceable. Barely.
Lira secured her seed pouches and glanced at him.
"You're leading?"
Ren nodded. "Stay close. Don't engage unless you have to."
They slipped out of the shelter just as the forest began to stir.
At first, it was subtle—rustling leaves, snapping twigs, low growls echoing from multiple directions. Then the shapes emerged.
Small beasts.
Scaled crawlers, feral boar-like creatures, oversized insects with jagged mandibles. None of them were strong individually, but there were dozens. More than dozens.
A tide.
Ren didn't hesitate.
"Burst Step."
Mana surged through his legs, precise and controlled. The world blurred as he vanished from his original position, reappearing several meters ahead in a flash of compressed movement. The strain hit immediately—sharp, biting—but manageable.
Lira sucked in a breath.
So that's how he moves, she thought.
Ren didn't slow. He chained the movement again—short bursts, never long enough to drain himself dry. He weaved between trees, over roots, across uneven ground, instinct and calculation working together.
Behind him, Lira reacted.
Her vines shot outward, latching onto thick branches and stone outcroppings. She pulled, launching herself forward in a rough imitation of Ren's movement—not as clean, not as fast, but effective.
She adjusted on the fly.
Each launch became smoother.
Each landing more controlled.
The beasts surged after them, screeching and howling, but they lacked coordination. They collided with each other, stumbled over roots, slowed by their own numbers.
Ren glanced back mid-stride.
Good. They're spreading out.
He skidded to a stop near a narrow ravine, spinning on his heel.
"Lira—now!"
She didn't ask why.
Vines snapped into place as Ren turned, thrusting his palm forward.
A low-output Fire Burst exploded outward—not to kill, but to scatter. The front line of beasts recoiled, some burned, others panicking.
Ren activated Burst Step again, this time vertically, clearing the ravine in a single, painful leap.
Lira followed—vine slingshot stretching, snapping her across just as the monsters poured into the gap behind them.
They didn't stop running.
Minutes blurred together. Ren's breathing grew heavier, his legs screaming each time he forced another Burst Step. He reduced the frequency, relying more on physical movement now, conserving mana.
Lira kept pace.
She was learning fast.
Too fast for someone her age, Ren realized grimly. This trial was forcing children to grow in ways they shouldn't have to.
Eventually, the sounds behind them faded.
Not gone—but distant.
Ren slowed to a jog, then a walk, finally bracing himself against a tree as he caught his breath. His vision swam, spots dancing at the edges.
Lira stumbled to a stop nearby, hands on her knees, chest heaving.
"That…" she gasped, "…was insane."
Ren huffed a weak laugh. "You did well."
She looked up at him, eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. "You didn't use those vines at all."
"No," he admitted. "They slow me down now."
She nodded slowly, filing that away.
They rested briefly—no more than a few minutes. Long rests were dangerous here.
As they moved again, the terrain began to change. Trees thinned. The ground hardened. Old stone jutted from the earth—ruins, half-swallowed by nature.
Ren's Appraisal flickered instinctively.
Dangerous area. Higher-tier monsters possible.
They slowed.
A sudden roar echoed from somewhere ahead—deep, heavy, and powerful.
Ren froze.
Not weak.
Not many.
Something else entirely.
"We avoid that," he said immediately.
Lira didn't disagree.
They adjusted course, skirting the ruins carefully. The day wore on, exhaustion layering over exhaustion. Ren's mana dipped lower than he liked, his movements becoming less crisp.
Still, they survived.
As evening approached, they found a temporary hiding spot—a hollow between broken stone and thick roots. Not safe, but concealed enough for a short rest.
Ren sank down, back against the stone, eyes closing despite himself.
We've made it this far, he thought.
But the trial wasn't finished.
Not even close.
Somewhere far above, unseen spectators watched names flicker on screens—some vanishing entirely.
Ren's name remained.
For now.