Chapter 96: The Trial of Cunning

Chapter 96: The Trial of Cunning

Alison alone saw himself surrounded by high, winding trees like a labyrinth. Instead of prominent limbs, their trunks moved up as far as the viewer could see; their leaves formed a ceiling over the chamber, barring out most of the light, which gave the place an ethereal greenish hue. It was much stuffier and warmer, and the air had a slight carl scent of soil and mold.

"This is different alright," said Alison angrily, holding the end part of the axe. He spun completely around to get a wider view of the thick wooded land ahead. The trees began to look somewhat alive, and their shadows opened and closed and stretched and contracted.

A similar deep voice from before resonated through the air. "The Trial of Cunning: There is a secret pathway that exists, and don't allow the unseen hunters to track your movements. Only those who are willing to go beyond the impulse will make it."

He clenched his jaw angrily and asked Alison, 'I suppose?' "Hunters, huh? As far as the suggested type of work is concerned, I always was fond of challenges like this.

He moved towards the identified vicinity, and as soon as he put down his leg in the grass, a low growl rumbled behind him. The whip that he gave around made equal to trees that he could see. Yet he kept on shaking at the back of his neck. Whatever these hunters were, they were close—and they wouldn't be making this easy on him.

Gently, Alison stirred, his gaze darting through the terrain searching for anything that looked like it moved. She had not heard such deep quiet for quite a long time—only the whisper of the foliage on trees above. He remembered that it was not wise to use only muscles in this battle; this was not a fight—it was a game.

He was still when he saw stuff engraved on the trunks of the trees they were—marks on the bark. They were very inconspicuous and almost camouflaged, but the fact was that they were not random but non-random.

"Clues," he muttered. So, you want me to play your game then? Fine."

He followed the symbols, following that trail to the further depths of the labyrinth. Every move became more unbearable—it was as if the whole forest had come on top of him. The growls were getting louder, nearer, and each time he tried to catch a glimpse, there was actually no one there.

And when the symbols were given after several minutes, they led him to a small clearing. There was a stump in the center identical to the one that was used in the first trial. On it lay a puzzle box, which was carved so elaborately it seemed almost like a work of art.

Alison stepped closer, hesitating only to touch the fingers of his right hand on the box. If he tried touching it, the growls ceased immediately. The silence was deafening.

"This feels like a trap," he said to himself, but he had no other way. The carvings themselves were faint on the box, and he saw they correlated with the symbols on the trees.

Many times, it was presented to be complex, which entailed the arrangement of the pieces and the rotation of the marks. Every time the box lit up in response to the correct movement, the hunters were not going to sit and watch.

In visibility one could make out forms—monstrous creatures that were born of shadows and fog, and their eyes were glowing with an incredible intensity on Alison. Therefore they did not charge at the autochthons but rather encircled the open area with a morgue pace deliberate.

"Of course," Alison said with a tone of discontent and typing in greater speed. His hands acted on their own accord, experience and resourcefulness of someone who has lived with his wits to depend on.

One of the beasts swiped its claws and charged towards her. This time, Alison bent down quickly so that it could miss her, and he began to pound the axe in the sand again. He had no power to confront them decisively, not to mention that the puzzle remained unsolved.

"Hold your horses," he said to himself, bringing his attention back to the box in front of him. In another, was able to rotate and align another piece, the marking symbols reflecting each other. The beasts snarled, and their actions became more and more desperate.

Alison kicked out for the third time and dodged the lunge that followed, falling onto the floor. The man ran to pick a rather large branch that was lying on the ground and threw it toward the closest creature. It simply slid through the creature without incident, but it was enough time to allow him to act.

Then the last piece was set in the box, and immediately a bright light came out. Before disappearing into shadows, the beasts emitted alien-like sounds.

The labyrinth changed its position, and trees began to close ranks, opening the circle in which Natasha found herself. Alison left the room intoxicated with the still-intact puzzle box in his hands.

"Travelers," the tree said to us, "to overcome this test, you both have to answer three questions." They are the unsaid facts of life from the popular jungle man movie that is actually alive and more obvious. Full stop, and the road to the Heart shall be closed to you forever."

Alison crossed his arms. "No pressure, then."

Natasha stepped forward. "We're ready. Ask your questions."

The tree had eye holes, and its eyes looked half asleep. "First question: What grows in the jungle but does not eat there?"

Natasha frowned, thinking. He complains that he feeds the jungle but gets nothing in return. She looked at Alison, who replied nonchalantly, 'Why?'

"Water," she said finally. It seems to draw nourishment from the heavens in the shape and form of rain, but it does not give anything in return.

The face of the tree seemed to move a little, as if in acknowledging the response. "Correct. Second question: What, therefore, is the unique strength of the jungle?

This time, Alison replied in the negative without any preambles. "Unity. They are used as evidence to show how every aspect of the jungle—plants, the animals, and even the air—requires each other to exist.

As a result, the tree's eyes glowed brighter. "Correct. Final question: What intimidates most in the jungle?"

Natasha didn't say anything at once; she calculated. Eykov thought of the test, the beasts they fought, the change of the jungle, and all other things that she missed. Then it hit her.

"Pride," she said. "Which is all about the notion of the invincibility of an individual when he or she goes to the jungle without any consideration of the ecology of the natural environment."

His face contorted into a slow, begrudging smile that travelled up the tree. "You have answered wisely. This map has the key for getting to the Heart of the Jungle."

The trees shook, and a concealed entrance that was hidden at the root of the tree bowed open, revealing blackness inside.

Natasha and Alison both stared at each other firmly. "We're getting closer," Natasha said.

Alison gripped his axe. "Let's finish this."

With the permission of the tree and the tests they had just overcome, they stood in the future, whatever it held for them.

"Alison!" Thankfully, he exclaimed, Natasha immediately running to him. "Are you okay? What happened?"

He passed her the box and gave her a weary smile. A simple game of hide-and-seek with shadow monsters, one could say… Nothing I couldn't handle."

The deep voice returned. You have shown how clever you are; thus, you are free to go around the house." The third trial awaits: Wisdom."

Before they could do anything, the jungle in front of them seemed to melt and shift. This time, whereas formerly Natasha was taken alongside Alison into a new setting, it was a novel one.

They materialized before a giant tree with a large trunk on which all forms of artistic imprints appeared carved. There was no wind at the time, and in front of them the tree was almost drawing the air around it.

This means that perhaps raising your own trial, called "The Trial of Wisdom," will judge how closely you understand the truth of the jungle. "Speak with the tree. Listen carefully, for indeed it has the solutions to the questions you have been asking.

They saw Natasha look at Alison from the corner of her eye. "Wisdom, huh? I suppose this one is more in my line."

The living tree's skin melted and contorted into the face with big sunken eyes and a solemn mouth. Its voice was low and deep, like the groaning from a centuries-old timber.