The village of Hallowford was quiet at dawn. Smoke curled from thatched rooftops, children fetched water from the well, and weary farmers tilled the frost-bitten earth. Yet beneath the surface calm, Elder could sense tension—like the coiled string of a bow waiting to snap.
He had been given a straw mat in one of the communal huts, food that was little more than thin porridge, and glares from nearly every villager he passed. To them, he was an outsider—untrusted, unknown.
But to him, it was still paradise compared to the ruins and the beastwood.
As the sun climbed higher, Elder walked the village path, his eyes drawn to every detail. The wooden palisade surrounding Hallowford was scarred with claw marks. Watchtowers sagged under the weight of disrepair. Spears leaned against walls, but most were cracked, hafts splintered.
They've fought before. And they'll fight again.
The Covenant stirred within him.
[Observation: Mortals here lack strength. Their survival rate against high-ranked beasts is negligible.]
Elder grimaced. "So what? You want me to abandon them?"
The system's response was cold.
[Adaptation: A Vessel survives by calculation, not sentiment.]
He clenched his fists. Maybe the system saw life as numbers and percentages, but these people had taken him in, however reluctantly. That mattered.
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a bell. Urgent, panicked.
Shouts erupted across the village. Guards scrambled to the walls, weapons in hand. Villagers rushed their children indoors, doors slamming shut.
Elder's pulse quickened. "What's happening?"
A guard shoved past him, eyes wide. "Hunters! The beastwood's sent its prey into our lands!"
Elder followed the rush to the gate, climbing onto a stack of crates for a view beyond the palisade.
The forest stirred. Branches snapped, birds scattered. Then they came.
Beasts unlike any Elder had ever imagined.
Six-legged panthers with hides like molten coal, glowing veins of lava coursing beneath their skin. Their eyes blazed with hunger, jaws dripping flame instead of saliva. At least four of them, stalking forward with predatory grace.
The guards shouted, raising their spears. Fear clung to their voices.
One of the villagers screamed, "Fireclaws! We don't have enough men to hold them!"
Elder's heart hammered. The memory of the shadow-wolves flooded back. His wounds still ached, yet the Seed inside his chest pulsed eagerly, as if sensing challenge.
The Covenant's voice rang in his head.
[Second Trial Detected.]
[Objective: Defend the Weak. Condition: Repel the Hunters.]
A translucent timer appeared: 600 seconds.
Elder cursed under his breath. "Again… a trial, here of all times?"
The beasts lunged.
Flame burst from their claws as they slammed against the wooden palisade. The wall shuddered, wood splintering under the assault. Guards thrust their spears desperately, but the weapons barely scratched the beasts' armored hides.
One Fireclaw leapt atop the wall, scattering defenders with a swipe that set shields ablaze. Screams filled the air.
Elder's muscles tensed. He had no weapon, no armor. Only his Covenant.
But if he did nothing, the village would burn.
He leapt from the crates, sprinting toward the chaos.
"Hey!" one of the guards shouted. "Get back, outsider!"
Elder ignored him. His hands found a fallen spear. The wood was cracked, but the iron tip still gleamed faintly.
The Fireclaw on the wall roared, flames spewing from its maw. Villagers cowered below, helpless. Elder's Covenant Sense flared, slowing the beast's movements in his perception.
He charged.
With a roar, he thrust the spear upward. The weapon struck beneath the beast's jaw, where the molten hide was thinner. Sparks flew, the spear tip glowing red from the heat—but it pierced.
The Fireclaw shrieked, thrashing wildly. Elder clung to the weapon with all his strength, forcing it deeper. Heat scorched his hands, pain blinding him, but he didn't let go.
Finally, the beast collapsed, crashing down inside the palisade.
Silence lasted only a heartbeat before the other Fireclaws roared, their fury ignited.
The Covenant's voice echoed coldly.
[Elapsed Time: 120 seconds. Five hundred remain.]
Elder panted, staring at the fallen beast. He had killed one… but at what cost? His hands were blistered, his arms shaking.
The villagers gawked at him in disbelief. Murmurs spread—"He killed it… the outsider… with one strike…"
The scarred woman from the caravan appeared beside him, sword drawn. Her eyes locked onto his, fierce and questioning.
"You," she said. "Fight with us."
Elder tightened his grip on the cracked spear. His body screamed in protest, but his resolve burned hotter than pain.
The Fireclaws circled, flames dripping from their claws, preparing to strike again.
Elder set his stance, the Covenant's Seed pulsing inside his chest.
For the first time, he wasn't just surviving.
He was fighting—for others.
The Trial had begun in earnest.