--Exam Hall - Azron Woods Monitoring Station--
High above the vast, bustling arena, within a secluded, glass-paneled chamber, Chairman Shakespeare stood before a bank of shimmering holographic screens. Each screen displayed a different segment of the Azron Woods, meticulously tracking the thousands of applicant teams. The frantic movements, the desperate chases, the numerous failures – it was all laid bare before his discerning gaze.
Beside him, Nietzsche, his posture as rigid and unyielding as ever, observed the monitors with a quiet intensity. His sharp eyes missed nothing, cataloging every tactical error, every moment of frustration, every fleeting glimpse of the elusive Rare Azron Boars.
"Nietzsche," Shakespeare's voice was a low, thoughtful murmur, his gaze fixed on a particular screen that showed Adam's team, then Julian's. "Among this sea of ambition and incompetence, have any applicants… caught your eye?"
Nietzsche remained silent for a moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. "Indeed, Chairman. A few. Most are predictable.
Relying on brute force, or lacking the patience required for such a hunt. Many are already disqualified, or close to it." He gestured to a screen where a team was recklessly firing tranquilizer darts into the trees, hitting nothing. "Amateurs."
"And the others?" Shakespeare pressed, a knowing glint in his eye. "The ones who exhibit something… more?"
"There is a group," Nietzsche began, his voice precise, "a team of six that split into two groups of three. They operate with unusual synergy for a newly formed unit.
Their movements are coordinated, their tracking attempts… methodical, if currently futile." He zoomed in on a screen displaying Adam's team, then another showing Julian's.
"They exhibit discipline beyond the average applicant. And they possess an… interesting companion." His gaze flickered to Edward on the screen. "A vampire, if my senses do not deceive me. A powerful one."
Shakespeare's bald head tilted slightly. "Edward Bloodrose. An unexpected entry. His history is… complex. So, they have caught your eye, then."
"Their persistence, yes," Nietzsche confirmed. "They haven't succumbed to the same panicked chaos as most. Their frustration is evident, but their resolve remains intact. They understand the nature of the challenge, even if they haven't yet found the solution."
"Good," Shakespeare mused, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. "This exam is designed not just to find strength, but to expose the depth of one's character. Let us observe. The clock still ticks."
--Azron woods--
The dense foliage of the Azron Woods seemed to press in on Adam's team. The black sunlight, once dappled, was now fading, casting long, distorted shadows that danced with their growing frustration. They had been relentless, tirelessly tracking, Edward's vampiric senses and Tom's analytical mind working in tandem. Adam, his dual pistols ready, provided cover and tactical support.
"I heard it!" Edward rumbled, his head snapping to the left. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the deepening gloom. "A subtle shift in the undergrowth. Too fast for a common creature."
Adam, his heart pounding, raised his pistols. "Which way, Edward? Tom, anything on your scanner?"
"Directly ahead, Adam!" Tom whispered, his data-pad displaying faint, erratic energy signatures. "Moving at extreme velocity! It's the boar!"
They burst through a thicket of thorny bushes, Adam pushing through, pistols ready. And there it was. A Rare Azron Boar. It was larger than a normal boar, its hide a shimmering, almost translucent grey that blended uncannily with the forest mist. Its eyes, intelligent and wary, fixed on them for a split second before it vanished.
"Don't let it get away!" Adam yelled, firing a quick, suppressive burst from his new crimson-glowing pistol, trying to herd it. The energy bolts sizzled past its retreating form, scorching a nearby tree.
Edward moved like a lightning bolt, a blur of motion, attempting to cut off its escape route. His vampiric speed was incredible, covering ground with impossible swiftness. But the boar, impossibly nimble, weaved through the trees, ducking under low branches, its movements fluid and unpredictable.
Tom, meanwhile, was frantically adjusting his data-pad. "It's performing evasive maneuvers at 90-degree angles! Almost instantaneously! Its internal energy signature suggests a localized dimensional shift – a form of micro-teleportation!"
Adam cursed. "Micro-teleportation?! No wonder they're impossible to catch!" He fired again, a desperate shot, but the boar was already gone, a faint shimmer in the distance its only trace.
Edward skidded to a halt, his crimson eyes narrowed. "It almost phased through my grasp. Its agility is… supernatural. Not merely speed, but a distortion of space itself."
The reality of their situation sank in. Their combined effort—Adam's dual pistols and tactical mind, Edward's incredible speed and senses, Tom's scientific analysis—had been futile. The boar had simply slipped away, an ethereal ghost.
"This is insane," Adam muttered, holstering his pistols. "How do you capture something that can teleport?"
Tom shook his head, a grim frustration on his face. "My scanners picked up a residual energy signature, a faint ripple in the local spacetime. It's not true teleportation, but a rapid, short-range displacement. Like a blink."
A disheartening sound echoed through the woods. "Ding!! A group has caught a Rare Azron Boar! Please proceed to the nearest collection point!" The automated voice, clear and amplified throughout the forest, was like a slap in the face.
"Someone actually caught one?" Panchenko's voice, relayed through their comms, was tinged with disbelief. "How?!"
Adam didn't respond. The knowledge that other teams, perhaps less skilled than their own, had succeeded, gnawed at him. What were they missing?
Julian's team was deep within a particularly dense thicket, moving with the practiced stealth of seasoned hunters. Astrid, leading the way, suddenly froze, her head cocked.
"I hear it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "A faint snuffle. Close."
Panchenko readied his capture net, his grip tight on the handle. Julian drew his sword, a silent, deadly shadow. They crept forward, inch by painstaking inch, through the tangled undergrowth.
Then, they saw it. Another Rare Azron Boar, grazing peacefully in a small clearing bathed in a shaft of fading sunlight. Its shimmering hide was almost invisible against the dappled light and shadow.
"Now!" Julian hissed, giving the signal.
They sprang into action with practiced coordination. Julian moved to cut off its primary escape route, his movements swift and silent. Astrid darted to the side, aiming to flank it, daggers poised to herd.
Panchenko, with a grunt of effort, launched the capture net, aiming to ensnare the creature in its wide mesh.
The boar, however, reacted with astonishing speed. Its head snapped up, its intelligent eyes registering their presence. With a flash of grey, it darted away, effortlessly bypassing Julian's cut-off. Astrid lunged, attempting to corner it, but the creature shimmered, its form blurring, and it reappeared a few yards away, leaving her grasping at thin air.
Panchenko's net, thrown with precision, sailed through the space the boar had occupied moments before, landing harmlessly on the mossy ground.
"By the Void!" Panchenko cursed, picking up his net. "It just… blinked!"
Julian watched the boar disappear into the undergrowth, a frustrated frown on his usually composed face. "Its spatial displacement ability is remarkable. Faster than any technique I know. It makes direct capture attempts almost impossible."
Astrid landed beside him, her chest heaving slightly. "Even with all three of us, it just… slipped away. It's like trying to catch mist."
Another chime from the speaker. "Ding!! A group has caught a Rare Azron Boar! Please proceed to the nearest collection point!" Then another. "Ding!! A group has caught a Rare Azron Boar! Please proceed to the nearest collection point!"
The triumphant announcements, repeating every few minutes, grated on their nerves. Other teams were succeeding, somehow. What were they doing differently?
Azron Woods - 8 Hours Remaining
The black sun had finally set, plunging the Azron Woods into a deep, oppressive twilight. Bioluminescent fungi provided a faint, eerie glow, making the shadows even more pronounced. Sixteen hours had already passed, and both of Adam's teams, despite their combined strength and specialized skills, had yet to capture a single Rare Azron Boar.
They reunited at their pre-designated rendezvous point, their faces grim, exhaustion beginning to set in.
"Nothing," Adam stated, his voice flat. "We found one. It blinked away. Tom says it's some kind of micro-teleportation."
Julian nodded grimly. "Ours did the same. It is not merely speed. It is an evasion tactic that makes direct engagement exceedingly difficult."
Panchenko slammed a fist against a tree trunk in frustration. "How are other teams doing it?! Are they using some kind of super-net? Or do they just get lucky? This is impossible!"
Another "Ding!!" echoed through the woods, followed by the triumphant announcement of another capture.
"This is why there are so few Adventurers every year, Panchenko," Tom said, his voice quiet but firm. "This isn't about strength, or even just speed. It's a puzzle. A test of ingenuity. If it were easy, everyone would pass."
"But what is the solution?" Astrid asked, her eyes scanning the dark woods, her usual confidence wavering slightly. "We've tried stealth, pursuit, herding… nothing works if they can just teleport away."
Adam looked at Edward, who had remained silent for some time, his crimson eyes observing the darkened forest. Edward, who had faced untold challenges and possessed ancient wisdom.
"Edward," Adam said, a desperate hope in his voice. "You've seen this before, haven't you? You know how they capture creatures like this."
Edward finally turned, his gaze profound, ancient. "Indeed. Such creatures are not captured through direct confrontation. They are outwitted. This test is not of power, but of patience. And of understanding the nature of the prey. They are elusive, yes. But they are also creatures of habit. And fear.
The key is not to chase what cannot be caught, but to create a scenario where escape is… less appealing than surrender."
His words hung in the air, a cryptic clue. Adam stared at him, then at Tom, then at Julian and Astrid. They had eight hours left. Eight hours to solve the riddle of the Azron Boar. The knowledge that others had succeeded spurred them on, but also deepened the gnawing question: how?