The settlement watched.
All eyes were turned toward the gigantic screen hovering in the air, showing both Uriel and Enoch's death trials.
None of them understood what the trial meant, what its rewards would be, or even who the two of them were, but they didn't seem to care either.
They watched.
They watched as Enoch was brutally torn apart, yet rose to his feet every single time, the blooming depths of his swordsmanship on full display, along with his ridiculous control over his spark.
He seemed stuck on the first wave, but none even dared to make fun of him, the sheer depth of his gaze resonating with them all.
Looking at him fight and struggle and grow almost seemed to remind them that they weren't on Ithurial anymore—that they truly weren't.
Looking at this young man, most likely in his late teens to early twenties, wielding such power and fighting so ferociously, awoke something in them that was hard to describe.
Then there was Uriel, a stark opposite of Enoch.
He seemed like a baby, barely past his mid-teens, his innocent face and curious, large eyes endearing beyond words.
But he was bloodied, and he was torn apart.
He clearly didn't know how to fight, or even properly operate his body for that matter, and unlike Enoch, his eyes reflected nothing but desperation.
He wanted to live.
Such a sight, too, seemed to remind them that, once again, they weren't on their planet anymore—and that death stood mere inches away.
Would they be like him, helpless and weak, in a few weeks when they faced the horrors of the forest? Would they have the courage to even fight, just like he did, despite his weak and clearly crippled body?
The show both were displaying seemed to set everyone on fire, a flame of fear and courage sparking all the same within them all.
Floods of awakened rushed toward the quest hall, triggering death trial after death trial, uncaring for the consequences, while others rushed to the training craters, spending all their hard-earned money and immediately beginning to train.
The settlement exploded with activity.
…
Tholyr sat far and deep into the skies, upon the same expanse of clouds where the first trial had occurred.
He was alone, and it was quite peaceful up there, the passing birds his only company and the cold wind playing with his brown hair.
In front of him, Enoch and Uriel's trials played out on a small, projected screen.
He looked at it without uttering a word, or even reacting much to all he saw.
'I see.'
Death Trial Quest.
It would have been something he introduced one week before the settlement barrier faded, and it would have been quite the show to watch.
It was quite an interesting concept of the settlement.
The Death Trial Quest, in itself, wasn't a quest, but as the name suggested, a trial put in place to decide if one was worthy of receiving a special type of quest: the Death Grade Quest.
The highest tier of quests, with rewards so ridiculous that even he might be tempted to participate in one.
But if the trial itself was deadly, the quest that followed it was even more exaggerated, the difficulty otherworldly and failure resulting in instant death.
'That's going to be an issue.'
Because he hadn't explained what the trial entailed, too many people were recklessly going to throw their lives away, hoping for rewards that simply wouldn't be there.
While yes, all those who died would respawn across the forest, alive, was it really any different from them dying?
Tholyr clicked his tongue and stood to his feet, shaking his head in lamentation.
"Here I go, fixing this brat's nonsense again."
He sighed.
…
[Ninth Wave Cleared!]
SPLAT!
Uriel appeared in an empty, dark alleyway, his blood splattering against the cold, soaked pavement as he was teleported out of the trial.
[You have received a Death Grade Quest!]
Weakly, he crawled and inched toward a wall, turning and resting his back against it, finally catching his breath.
He was in a bad state.
His body was just as battered as it had been in the first wave, albeit not much more beaten up, but his core was empty and his mind foggy.
The pain was starting to settle, not because he was getting used to it, but rather because his body, or maybe his spark, seemed to be shutting down his senses so the pain didn't drive him insane.
The issue was that it made thinking and moving his body incredibly hard.
Bleeding and freezing cold, back against a wall, with a light drizzle from the skies washing down his body, he sat in the dark, the faint murmurs of the city echoing from a nearby street.
His vision swam, and his heart thundered in his chest, his coughing absent but his breaths so short and strained he might as well not have been breathing.
He wheezed and wheezed, but air simply wasn't coming.
Inwardly, he shook his head.
'Of all spells she used… she couldn't even give me a single healing spell. How mean.'
All he could do was wait. Wait until his core had just a tiny bit of aether in it.
But when had fate ever been kind to him, really?
SHAH!
The echo of steps reached his ears.
He could immediately tell it was a group, and from the faint sound of clanging steel, metal boots sliding against the ground, and their leather armor squeaking, they were evidently armed.
He sighed.
A shadow loomed over him, and he looked up, laying eyes on a blurry figure. He couldn't see well, but he was sure it was a man, a rather short but extremely built one.
His physique was almost too refined and bulging, leading Uriel to believe it was most likely the result of an evolution.
The man squatted down, getting eye to eye with Uriel, something he found funny considering his already short stature. There was almost no need.
The thought made him chuckle, his mind spinning under the delirious effect his aether depletion had on him.
"What's so funny?"