Nova crouched on the branch, wiping blood off his blade as the last echo of the chimera's roar faded.
Around him, the forest was quiet for the first time in hours—no more screaming, no more crashing, no more sudden bursts of aether from frantic candidates fighting for their lives.
Just silence.
A soft chime echoed from the distant edges of the containment zone, and a robotic voice rang out from hidden speakers:
[Trial complete. All candidates, proceed to the exit point.]
Nova exhaled and stood. Below, only a fraction of the initial group remained. Maybe twenty?
Out of the fifty or so that had entered, less than half had survived. Some were limping. Others were covered in blood that wasn't theirs.
A few stared into space, expressions empty—broken.
Nova leapt from the branch and landed lightly, his boots silent against the grass. Immediately, he was bombarded by the sharp spike of dozens of weak aether signatures around him.
