The Azron Woods, once a frantic battleground of a thousand hopefuls, slowly emptied. The triumphant "Ding!!" of successful captures eventually ceased, replaced by the weary rustle of leaves and the distant, mournful cries of those who had failed. Adam and his group, their Azron Boars safely delivered, stood by the collection gate, their bodies aching, their minds reeling from the sheer intensity of the past 24 hours. The knowledge that they had succeeded, however, was a balm to their exhaustion.
As the final minute ticked away, a powerful, resonant chime echoed through the forest, signifying the end of the first exam. Soon after, Nietzsche's voice, clear and precise, boomed from unseen speakers, amplified throughout the vast expanse of the woods.
"Attention all applicants! The First Adventurer's Exam has concluded." His voice held no emotion, only stark authority. "You may now return to the main hall of the Adventurers' Guild for the results."
A fresh wave of murmuring, a mix of desperate hope and resigned despair, swept through the remaining applicants. Adam looked at his companions. They were a sight: covered in mud, sweat, and various botanical debris, their clothes torn, their faces smudged. But their eyes, though tired, gleamed with success.
They made their way back to the Guild Hall, joining the stream of weary applicants. The once-bustling hall was now quieter, filled with an anxious tension that was almost palpable. The air hummed with the silent question on everyone's lips: who passed?
Nietzsche stood on the main stage, flanked by the other Guild Overseers. His presence was as imposing as ever. He held a glowing data-slate, its light casting sharp shadows on his stern face.
"Applicants," Nietzsche's voice cut through the tension, silencing the hall. "The results of the First Exam are in. Out of the ten thousand who entered the Azron Woods, only five thousand have passed."
A collective gasp swept through the remaining crowd, followed by a wave of disheartened groans and a few quiet sobs from those who knew they had failed. Half. Half of the initial applicants were gone after just the first test. It was a brutal culling.
"For those who did not succeed," Nietzsche continued, his voice unwavering, "your efforts are noted. You are free to re-apply for the next examination period. For now, you are dismissed."
Thousands of disappointed individuals began to slowly file out of the hall, their dreams of becoming adventurers shattered, at least for now. Adam watched them go, a somber understanding of the exam's unforgiving nature.
Then, Nietzsche's gaze swept over the remaining five thousand, his eyes seeming to pierce each individual. "For those who have passed the first stage, congratulations. Your perseverance and skill have earned you the right to continue."
Adam felt a quiet sense of triumph. They had made it. All six of them.
"Now," Nietzsche continued, his voice gaining a slightly more relaxed, though still authoritative, tone, "you have faced your first trial. You are undoubtedly exhausted.Go home and rest. Refuel. Replenish. Because tomorrow, the Second Exam will commence."
He then gestured to Fyodor, the man with semi-long purple hair and intelligent brown eyes. "Fyodor will explain the details of the Second Exam tomorrow morning, at 0800 hours, in this very hall. For now, you are dismissed. Goodbye, and congratulations on your initial success. Do not be late."
With that, Nietzsche turned, and the group of Guild Overseers began to descend from the stage. The five thousand remaining applicants, a mixture of elation and continued apprehension, began to disperse, many heading for the exits, others lingering to discuss their success.
Adam and his companions, their legs aching but their spirits buoyant, made their way out of the Guild Hall. The Khandar blacksun was setting, casting long, shadows across the city. The prospect of actual rest, after a sleepless night and a grueling day, was a powerful motivator.
"Only five thousand," Panchenko mused, shaking his head. "Half the starting number. They don't mess around, do they?"
"It's a thorough filtering process," Tom observed, stifling a yawn. "They want the best of the best. Those who can truly survive in the field."
"And we are among them," Julian stated, a rare, proud smile touching his lips. "All of us."
Edward, his crimson eyes gleaming with a quiet satisfaction, nodded. "You fought well. You learned. You adapted. These are the traits that truly matter."
"Alright, let's go get some serious food," Astrid declared, her stomach rumbling audibly. "I think I could eat an entire Rare Azron Boar right now, net and all."
They headed directly for Marcus's pub, the familiar warmth and inviting aromas a beacon of comfort. The pub was less crowded than it had been at night, but a few patrons, recognizable as passed applicants, sat at tables, quietly celebrating.
Marcus spotted them as they entered, his face beaming. "Well, well, well! Look what the cat dragged in! You lot look like you wrestled a pack of wild Star Wolves! You were in the Azron Woods today, weren't you?"
"Indeed we were, Marcus," Adam replied, managing a tired smile. "And we successfully captured our… quarry."
Marcus's eyes widened, and he let out a booming laugh. "No kidding! I heard they're nigh on impossible! So, you passed, then? All of you?"
"Every single one of us," Panchenko announced proudly, puffing out his chest. "We're among the chosen five thousand!"
Marcus clapped his hands together. "Fantastic! This calls for a celebration! On the house, my friends! Tonight, the food and drink are on me! You adventurers, you bring life to this city!"
A collective cheer went up from the other patrons, a shared moment of camaraderie and triumph. Marcus quickly brought them a feast: platters of roasted meats, fresh bread, a mountain of roasted vegetables, and large tankards of Namilian ale.
As they ate, the exhaustion began to truly set in. Their conversation was punctuated by yawns and stretches.
"I swear," Astrid muttered, her voice muffled by a mouthful of stew, "I could sleep for a week straight."
"Me too," Panchenko agreed, leaning back with a contented sigh. "My bed has never looked so inviting."
Adam, despite his own weariness, felt a profound sense of satisfaction. They had faced the first test, and they had passed. Together.
"We need to get serious rest," Adam stated, looking at each of them. "Fyodor said the exam is tomorrow morning. We can't go in there half-asleep. We pushed ourselves to the limit for the boar, but tomorrow might be even tougher."
Edward nodded, his crimson eyes holding a flicker of something akin to approval. "Wise words. The human body requires recuperation. Do not neglect it."
They finished their meal, the celebratory atmosphere of the pub a soothing balm to their tired minds. They thanked Marcus profusely for his generosity, promising to return.
The walk back to their cabin was quiet, their usual conversation replaced by the soft sounds of their footsteps and the gentle hum of the Namilian night. The city lights were a comforting blanket, a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of Kazakhar.
As they entered the cabin, a collective sigh of relief escaped them. It was a simple place, but tonight, it felt like the most luxurious haven in the entire galaxy.
Adam found his bed, and without bothering to remove his weapons or even change his clothes, he simply collapsed onto the soft mattress. The exhaustion was overwhelming, pulling him down into a profound, almost immediate slumber. He heard the muffled sounds of his companions settling into their own beds, the quiet sighs of relief, and then, mercifully, silence.
For the first time in over 24 hours, Adam slept. It wasn't the fitful, anxious sleep of a fugitive, nor the desperate oblivion of a prisoner. It was the deep, restorative sleep of a warrior who had faced a challenge, emerged victorious, and earned his rest.
Dreams of elusive boars and triumphant cheers mingled with the distant image of the Demon King, a challenge still to come. But for now, there was only the peaceful darkness, and the promise of a new dawn.