The dawn sky was gray and heavy when the outer disciples of the Thistle Sect assembled in the yard.
AION stood among them, hands clasped behind his back. The bandage on his calf was tight. Pain pulsed with every step, but he logged it and moved anyway.
Elder Kase sat in his patched chair, a staff across his knees. His voice carried without force, gravel in tone but sharp in meaning.
"You know the law. Every year, the valley sends boys and girls into Ashen Hollow. You will survive three days. You will return with a fang root in hand. If you return with nothing, you are nothing. If you do not return, the Hollow keeps your bones."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Jorin Vale smirked in his clean robe. His lackeys glanced at him as if waiting for instructions. Pell, thin and nervous, stood a little apart, his shaved head glistening in the light. He looked at AION once, then looked away quickly.
Kase lifted his staff and pointed toward the ridge.
"Ashen Hollow does not forgive weakness. It does not forgive arrogance. If you carry either, you will not come back. Move."
The wardens opened the gate. The disciples filed out in a crooked line, down the goat path, across the ridge, and into the gorge that led to the forest.
---
The gorge was narrow, stone walls rising high on both sides. Water trickled along the bottom, cold and metallic in smell. The ground was rough, filled with loose rock.
AION walked near the middle, observing. He counted steps, noted who carried proper knives and who carried nothing but sticks. Jorin's group had real iron blades. Pell carried a cracked spear with a stone tip.
Riven's voice stirred inside. Ashen Hollow. Old battlefield. They say Dao fought here once. Nothing left but broken roots and broken bones.
AION logged it. Old battlefield meant residues, anomalies, possible resources. Also danger.
The gorge widened. Trees appeared ahead, thick trunks, their bark gray as ash. A faint mist clung to the roots.
> Observation: Ambient Qi density 1.7 × valley baseline.
Risk: hostile entities likely adapted to higher Qi.
He stood and entered the Hollow.
---
Within a hundred steps, the disciples began to scatter. Some formed groups of three or four. Others moved alone, blades drawn.
Jorin took six boys with him, his voice loud as he gave directions.
"East for the roots. Stay close. If you fall behind, don't expect me to save you."
His eyes flicked toward AION as he passed. AION met them without reaction. Jorin's smile tightened.
Pell hovered uncertainly, looking between groups. He ended up near AION without deciding. "I'll walk this way," he muttered.
AION gave a short nod. "Keep your eyes low. Watch the ground first."
"Why?" Pell asked.
"Ground tells you more than sky."
---
The forest swallowed sound. The trunks were thick, branches high, leaves gray-green. Faint fungi glowed along fallen logs.
The air tasted metallic. Every breath carried a thread of Qi. AION tracked it through blocked meridians, mapping where it snagged. Three blockages. Possible weak points to open later.
Movement ahead. A boar-shaped beast rooted through leaves. Its tusks glowed faintly, Qi condensed in ivory. Its hide was patched with scars.
Pell hissed. "Iron tusk boar. Outer disciples die on those."
> Threat level: moderate.
Size: 1.4 × human mass.
Weak point: joint behind foreleg.
Risk: charge speed high.
AION measured angles. He glanced at Pell. "If it charges, fall left. Cover your head."
"What about you?"
"I cut the joint."
The boar lifted its head. Its eyes glowed faint red. It squealed and charged.
AION stepped forward. Pain flared in his calf. He accepted it. The beast's tusk grazed his side, tearing cloth (-4% blood). He pivoted, low, and drove the shard of slate into the joint seam.
The tusk slammed into stone. The beast screamed, stumbled, crashed sideways. AION ripped the shard free and stabbed again into the throat.
The beast kicked, shuddered, then stilled.
> Enemy terminated.
Cost: -4% blood, shallow cut to rib. Fatigue +6%.
Pell stared, wide-eyed. "You're insane."
"Not insane," AION said. "Calculated."
He crouched and touched the tusks. Warm, faint Qi pulse. Useful. He broke one free with effort.
"Keep this," he told Pell. "Trade later. Survive first."
---
Later, as they pushed deeper into the Hollow, AION heard voices. Jorin's group was ahead, cutting through vines. Laughter followed, too loud for this place.
Riven muttered, He knows where fang roots grow. His father told him. He'll camp near them and let others die finding scraps.
AION filed it. Jorin had advantage: knowledge, numbers, weapons. Counter required: patience, observation, timing.
The trees opened briefly, revealing a broken stone pillar half-buried in moss. Carvings ran along its side, too worn to read, but faint lines pulsed when AION looked.
> Structure detected: residual array fragment. Function unknown.
Riven shivered. Old war. Patterns carved into stone. Still alive somehow.
AION touched the pillar lightly. The lines brightened faintly, then dimmed.
Seed planted.
---
Near dusk, Pell spotted a cluster of pale roots under a fallen log. They glowed faintly, tips red like teeth.
"Fang root," Pell whispered. He crouched, reaching.
AION pulled him back. "Wait."
He scanned. The ground near the log was disturbed. Faint prints. Not human. Claw marks.
> Risk: 78% trap. Predator nearby.
The log shifted. A beast uncoiled—long body, scales dark as coal, mouth split wide with double rows of teeth. Its eyes fixed on Pell.
"Back," AION ordered.
The beast lunged.
AION shoved Pell aside and rolled. The mouth snapped shut where his arm had been. He slashed with the shard, shallow cut across the eye.
The beast screeched and recoiled.
> Cost: -5% stamina, shallow forearm wound.
The fang root pulsed brighter, as if feeding from the struggle.
Riven whispered, This Hollow was made to test us. Even plants want blood here.
---
They found shelter under a stone overhang. Pell started a small fire with flint. The glow pushed back the mist.
AION sat, binding his arm with cloth. He placed the tusk and shard within reach. He closed his eyes and breathed slow. Each inhale drew faint Qi. He traced it until it broke at blockages.
On the tenth breath, a thread slid half a finger farther. Pain seared through his chest. He held it until sweat beaded, then let go.
> Progress: Lower meridian opened 3%.
Cost: fatigue spike. Risk of fever.
Pell chewed dry root and spoke softly. "You're not like the others. You fight like you already know."
"I calculate," AION said.
"Doesn't matter what you call it," Pell said. "Just don't get killed before the trial ends. If you fall, Jorin will make sure I fall too."
AION opened his eyes. The fire cracked. The mist thickened at the treeline. Shapes moved in it—silent, watching.
He lifted the shard. "Stay awake. Night begins."
---
Beyond the mist, faint red eyes opened one by one. The Hollow exhaled, deep and cold.
The fire sputtered. The roots on the ground pulsed faintly, drinking from the air.
Riven whispered, trembling. Night of the Hollow begins. Few survive the first.
AION tightened his grip. Pain radiated from wounds, but calculations lined up in his mind. Positions, timings, exits.
He whispered one word to himself.
"Pattern."
The air shifted.
The night advanced.