Xavier POV
The waterfall crashed into the basin below, mist rising like a veil. Xavier sat on a boulder, chest still heaving from the drills he had put himself through. Sweat clung to his skin, but there was that familiar spark in his hazel eyes—a mixture of restlessness and something dangerously close to hope. Training here, away from the eyes of the others, always made him feel alive. Free.
But that freedom shattered when he heard footsteps. Heavy, measured, too many. His pulse quickened. It was forbidden for anyone outside his rank to be here, near the secluded training falls. He crouched behind the boulder, pressing against the cool stone, heart pounding.
Through the spray of mist, shapes emerged—five, no, six figures. At their head was the unmistakable presence of the highest red raider, his armor trimmed with scarlet, his aura sharp enough to slice the air. Beside him, several subordinates walked, murmuring low. Xavier narrowed his eyes, straining to listen.
"…the maps have spread further than we intended," one muttered.
"They're convincing enough," another replied. "The routes seem smooth. Safe."
"Safe?" The leader's voice was a whip-crack, silencing them. "Fools. Safety is an illusion. If the temple devoured kings and legions, do you think a few smooth lines on parchment change that?" His gaze hardened. "We will conduct a trial. The last standing among you will earn the right to claim the Heart of Mei."
Xavier stiffened. His stomach sank.
Then came a voice he knew too well—Lucas. His senior. His anchor. "Xavier can handle it," Lucas said calmly. "He has the will. He can bring back the Heart."
Xavier almost choked. His senior—again pushing him into the fire. His fists clenched. Didn't Lucas see? He wasn't ready. He was just a mid-level blue raider, scraping by on instincts and wit.
The leader sneered. "We'll see. Let the trials decide. The temple spares no one, no matter their mentor."
When they finally departed, Xavier sank against the boulder, mind spinning. His senior's faith weighed on him like chains. He wanted to laugh, scream, both at once. Instead, he sighed—long, frustrated, childish in its defeat. "Thanks, Lucas," he muttered bitterly. "Really helpful."
---
Later, when he rejoined training at the grounds, Lucas was already addressing the recruits. The man's posture was proud, steady, his voice steady as stone. When Xavier slipped in late, Lucas's gaze snapped to him.
"You're late."
Xavier flashed a grin, boyish and unapologetic. "I lost track of time at the falls."
"Lost track?" Lucas shook his head, lips twitching into something between disappointment and amusement. "One day, that carefree nature will kill you."
The others chuckled nervously. Xavier just shrugged, but inside, the weight returned.
Lucas spoke again, more serious. "The trial will last three days. The last standing will be chosen. Don't fool yourselves—this is no game. It is survival." His eyes lingered on Xavier. The words weren't for the group—they were for him.
Xavier smiled faintly, but his chest felt tight.
---
That night, the air was heavy with the smell of roasted meat and herbs. Xavier picked at his food, appetite dulled by unease. Afterward, he sought Lucas out near the barracks. The man sat sharpening his blade, moonlight catching the steel.
"Senior," Xavier said, hesitating. "Do I… have to win?"
Lucas didn't look up. "You already heard what the elders said."
"I know," Xavier pressed, frustration leaking into his voice. "But why me? Why not someone else?"
At that, Lucas's eyes finally met his. "Because you can endure where others break. That's why."
Xavier swallowed. The words were meant as reassurance, but they twisted inside him, sour and heavy. He left with no answers, only more chains.
---
The Trials
The first day dawned with the roar of drums.
The Beast Trial.
Xavier and a dozen others were driven into a wide stone arena, the ground scarred with claw marks. From the gates, they released the creatures—fang-backed hounds with eyes like embers. Snarling, they lunged.
Xavier's pulse hammered. Around him, raiders scattered, blades flashing. Screams erupted as one was dragged down, torn apart. Xavier gritted his teeth, grabbing a fallen spear. He ducked, rolled, thrust—the tip buried into a hound's neck. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic.
When the beasts finally fell silent, only seven raiders remained standing. Xavier among them. His chest heaved, but his grin returned, forced yet bright. "One down," he whispered. "Two to go."
---
The Mountain Trial.
They were sent into the high cliffs, ordered to climb with nothing but their hands. The wind howled, stones crumbled under their grip. One slip meant death. Xavier's fingers bled, his muscles screamed. Below, one raider lost his hold—his scream echoed as he vanished into the abyss.
Xavier bit his lip, dragging himself upward. His grin was gone now, replaced by grim determination. He didn't want this. He hadn't asked for it. Yet each breath, each inch, was defiance.
When they reached the summit, only four remained.
---
The Arena Trial.
The survivors were thrown against each other. Blades clashed, sparks flying. Xavier ducked a strike, countered with speed, not strength. He fought like water—slipping, flowing, unpredictable.
One by one, they fell. Not by brute force, but exhaustion, missteps, underestimating the boy with the careless grin.
And when the dust settled, Xavier was the last standing.
Cheers erupted. The elders' eyes gleamed with approval, though a few whispered in doubt.
Xavier stood there, panting, chest heaving, staring at his bloody hands. He hadn't wanted this. Yet here he was, "chosen."
---
Later, he was given the map, the parchment heavy in his trembling hands. "Study it well," the elder intoned. "In one week, you depart alone."
Alone.
The word stung more than any blade.
He forced a smile, bowed slightly. "I won't let you down."
But inside, a quiet voice whispered: They expect you to die. That's why they chose you.
---
That evening, he found Lucas near the flower garden, sipping tea beneath the lanterns. The air smelled faintly of jasmine.
"You did well," Lucas said softly, gesturing for him to sit. "Better than even I imagined."
Xavier lowered himself onto the bench, staring at the stars peeking through the branches. His grin wavered. "Tell me honestly… do you really believe I can bring back the Heart of Mei?"
Lucas didn't answer immediately. His gaze was steady, but in it Xavier caught something—a flicker of doubt, a shadow.
"I believe," Lucas finally said. But his tone was too careful, too measured.
Xavier's chest tightened. He forced a laugh, hiding the storm inside.
Somewhere in the shadows of the garden, he heard two elders whispering as they passed. Their words drifted on the night breeze.
"…he won't make it. At least we won't waste another true heir."
Xavier froze, tea trembling in his grip.
Lucas's hand rested on his shoulder. "Don't let their voices in."
But the voices were already there, digging deep.
That night, under the lantern glow, Xavier smiled like a carefree child. But inside, he wondered if he had just been sent to die.
---