The morning mist hung low as the caravan rumbled forward, wheels creaking under the weight of trunks, supplies, and anxious hearts. Fifty students, handpicked from surrounding villages, now sat tightly packed in six long, reinforced wooden wagons. Each cart was shielded by steel plates and rune-etched corners, designed to repel lower-grade beasts. But the forest beyond didn't obey simple protections.
Kael sat near the back of the third cart, eyes flicking between the trees as they passed the village borders. His hands tightened around his small satchel. No one spoke to him. They rarely did. But the old man's last words echoed in his mind like a heartbeat.
"You won't find your answers in people's smiles, boy. But maybe you'll find yourself… in what you survive."
Ahead of him sat the duel-path girl from his village—Tara. Her talent in essence and body cultivation had made her a quiet celebrity among the commoners. She smiled softly at the younger ones seated near her, comforting them with jokes and casual strength. Even now, she shone brighter than most nobles.
Behind them, another cart carried the noble children. Silk robes. Expensive boots. Some brought their own padded seats. One had even hired a private cook to ride alongside. They laughed, completely unbothered by the gloom settling over the forest.
In contrast, the ten guards—members of the Hunter Group—rode outside. Veteran cultivators clad in armor scratched by fang and flame. Three walked beside the caravan with silent vigilance. One rode ahead, checking the path. Six flanked the sides, eyes cold and steady.
Kael had seen their leader once before—an older man with a single eye, burn scars crawling up his neck. His name was Dren. He didn't speak much, but when he did, the air seemed to hush around him.
"This forest ain't some test," he had said during the morning briefing. "It's a goddamn grave. Treat it like one, or you'll be food before sundown."
No one laughed. Not even the nobles.
As they pushed deeper into the treeline, the dirt road twisted and narrowed. The sunlight began to fracture, broken by branches above. Strange sounds stirred—branches cracking without wind, bird cries that didn't match any species Kael knew.
Then it hit him.
The forest felt alive. Watching. Breathing.
Suddenly, from the front of the caravan, someone shouted. The wagons jolted to a stop.
Everyone tensed.
Dren's voice barked from the front, sharp and low.
"Movement! Stay seated! Weapons ready!"
A moment later, the forest ahead split open—not from beasts, but a falling tree, massive and rotted through, crashing into the path just meters from the lead cart.
Kael's breath caught.
A trap?
Or just bad luck?
Then came the smell—iron, wet and sharp. Blood.
Screams from the second cart.
A creature launched out from the right—gray-skinned, wolf-like, but with tusks and a barbed tail. It slammed into the side of the second cart, its claws tearing through the wooden frame. Kids screamed as splinters flew.
Dren moved like lightning, vanishing from view only to reappear mid-air, his sword gleaming with fire runes. With a single arc, he cleaved the beast in half.
Its body hit the ground with a wet thud. But it wasn't alone.
More rustling.
A whole pack.
Five… no, seven.
Kael's heart pounded. One lunged toward his own cart—and he barely ducked in time, its claw scraping inches from his face.
One of the guards—a tall woman with twin axes—stepped in, spinning both blades in brutal arcs. Two beasts fell, but a third latched onto her arm. She didn't scream—just roared and crushed its skull against the cart's side.
Blood sprayed. The smell was overwhelming.
Inside the carts, chaos erupted.
A boy near the front leapt out, trying to run into the woods. A beast chased him—and within seconds, caught him. His scream didn't last long.
"STAY IN THE DAMN CARTS!" Dren roared.
Kael couldn't move. He had never seen real battle. Not like this. He was useless. Weak.
Tara jumped out, pulling two young girls behind her and shielding them with a metal pole she'd packed. Even wounded, she fought off a beast that came too close.
And Kael? He only managed to push back a smaller creature that lunged at the wagon's step. His blade—a simple short sword—shook in his hands.
He slashed. Once.
The beast backed off.
That was all he could do.
He hated it.