The following morning, the dream shifted to a cold, early light. Henry watched as his future self tiptoed out of the bedroom, moving with practiced quiet to avoid waking Mia, who was clearly a mistress of the house now, long retired from her days of maid work. The simulated Henry cast one lingering, affectionate look at her before heading to the back courtyard.
The simulated Henry stepped into the courtyard, his breath misting in the morning air. He moved through his pre Fort Hope stretch routine and a final, precise walkthrough of the Sinclair sword style. Then, with a deep breath that stilled his shoulders, he spoke the words.
"Commence Rank Test."
Even as a spectator, the real Henry felt that familiar tightening in his chest—a volatile mix of anxiety and anticipation. The scenery blurred, reforming into the dreaded trial field. Across the grass stood the Wind Mana Wolf. It felt surreal; for the first time, the beast's predatory gaze wasn't on him, but on the simulated Henry, who was busy reading system announcements invisible to the observer.
I might as well analyze this, the real Henry thought, narrowing his eyes. This could actually be a blessing in disguise. I can see the angles I missed when I was the one fighting.
The battle began a few seconds after the moment the simulated Henry summoned a heavy sword. The real Henry watched with critical eyes as his counterpart was methodically dismantled.
Every over-extension was punished with a claw across the ribs; every strike delivered without perfect heel leverage resulted in Henry being shoved back by the wolf's superior mass.
Despite the beating, this Henry fought with significantly more grit and skill than his past self, landing several heavy blows, though none were enough to truly cripple the beast.
As the fight stretched on, the real Henry began to see the rhythm. The wolf wasn't just fast; it followed a pattern of lunges and weight shifts that were predictable if one wasn't blinded by panic. If I use Lower Regium style to negate that leverage advantage... Henry realized, a smile spreading across his face. I'll have more than a puncher's chance in my next real trial.
Before he could finish his thorough analysis, a white blur ended the trial, the mana wolf's massive claw tearing through the simulated Henry's chest, ending the trial in a spray of crimson.
The system flashed, transporting both Henrys back to the courtyard. The silence of the morning was gone, replaced by the frantic, clanging peal of an emergency bell. Panic tasted like copper in the air. The simulated Henry sprinted into the castle, the real Henry floating behind him like a grim reaper.
Inside the castle, they found Arnold. He looked older, yet he radiated the same terrifying authority as he stood before ten knights and twenty apprentices.
"Protect our land!" Arnold roared.
"PROTECT OUR LAND!" the men bellowed, their voices shaking the stone walls before they marched out.
"Father! What's happening?" the simulated Henry cried.
Arnold turned, his eyes hard. "No time. Take your mother and Mia. Evacuate toward the Count's lands. Tell him the Sinclair Barony has been hit by an overwhelming force. We need backup. Now go! I have to assist your brother at the North Gate!"
The real Henry knew it was a lie. His father wouldn't send his son as a mere messenger if there was any hope. This was an exile to save the bloodline.
Henry struggled for just a second whether to stay and fight with his brother and father or not but quickly decided to follow his father's order as the journey to the county capital wasn't exactly a safe one either.
Henry sprinted toward the North Gate, catching up to the carriage. "Mother! Mia! Open up!"
Mia pulled the door open, her face pale. "Henry! I couldn't find you! You scared me!"
"I was in my trial," he panted, running alongside them. "Mother, what did Father tell you?"
Sarah's face was a perfect marble mask, a poker face so rigid it screamed of the horror she was hiding. "He said to head to the county capital. He didn'tgive me any details Henry."
They reached the gate, but the crowd of refugees suddenly surged backward, their faces etched with a primal, soul-deep terror.
"CLOSE THE GATE!" someone screamed. "MONSTERS! REAL MONSTERS!"
The ground began to rumble. Before the guards could heave the iron-bound doors shut, they were slammed open with bone-shattering force. Ten adolescent Trolls stepped into the town, their teeth tusks dripping with blood. Their younger ages doing very little to their fully matured counterparts.
"Not again," both Henrys whispered simultaneously.
The simulated Henry froze, paralyzed by the sight of the very creatures that had ended his previous life. Mia and Sarah grabbed his arms, dragging him away and shaking him from his fear induced paralysis. They sprinted for a hidden patrol exit, but two trolls smaller, faster, and hungrier—peeled off from the pack to hunt them.
"Keep running!" the simulated Henry yelled, skidding to a halt to face the towering beasts. "Don't stop until you find the exit!"
"I'd rather die with you!" Mia shrieked, trying to break free from Sarah.
"Don't let his sacrifice be in vain!" Sarah hissed, her voice cracking as she dragged a broken, sobbing Mia away.
The simulated Henry fought like a demon. Using the Sinclair style, he managed to hack deep into the leg of the lead troll. But these weren't mana wolves; they were mountains of muscle and regenerative spite. The wounded troll didn't fall—it reached out with a massive, club-like hand and snatched Henry out of the air.
As the second troll raised a massive stone club to finish the job, the simulated Henry let out a final, haunting scream.
Henry snapped awake in his bunk, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. His tunic was drenched in a cold, sticking sweat, and the darkness of the Fort Hope barracks felt uncomfortably small.
The scream was still echoing in his ears, but the silence of the room told him he was back. The normalcy of the training camp now felt like a fragile shield against the nightmare he had just witnessed. He sat up, rubbing his face, the image of Mia being dragged away and the thought of dying to trolls again deeply disturbing him.
He wasn't just training to pass a test anymore. He was training because he would be face to face with enemy's eventually and the next time he was, he wouldn't be a ghost watching from the sidelines.