The test (1)

'Another failed attempt,' Seth thought as he slowly opened his eyes, still seated in a meditative position.Once again, he had tried to fuse his internal force with the energy from the force-gathering pill. And while he had managed to make some progress in merging the two, he had ultimately failed to do what mattered most- expand his core.

Several more days had passed since Vince had abruptly suspended their training, claiming he needed time to prepare a test. And while Seth hadn't been idle during that time, he couldn't shake a growing sense of irritation- and concern.

The irritation came from not having seen or heard from Vince in days. The concern stemmed from a more pressing matter: in just three days, he was expected to report to the Black Rose Unit.

Rising to his feet, Seth gathered the items he needed for the day's training and stepped out of his room. As he entered the living area, he was met with a quiet, somber scene. Mira sat alone in a wooden chair, her gaze fixed on the training sword that once belonged to Emily, which rested across her lap.

Her hair was unkempt, and her clothes slightly rumpled, as if she hadn't bothered with either in some time. There was heaviness in her eyes- one that hadn't faded since the day she'd buried Emily.

She had been crying.

Honestly, Seth couldn't even begin to grasp what Mira must be feeling right now. She had lost someone she had loved as a daughter- and now, the boy she had left was preparing to join a unit where the death toll often outweighed the victories.

'She must be shattered,' he thought to himself.

He stood there for a moment, unsure if he should speak or quietly step back. The air in the room was thick- not just with silence, but with unspoken grief, the kind that had no place to settle.

Seth had never been good with emotions- not his, and especially not the raw, tangled kind Mira was wrapped in. He didn't know what to say. There was no apology that could bring Emily back, no reassurance that could make what lay ahead any less dangerous.

And yet, standing there doing nothing felt worse.

He took a slow step forward, his voice quiet but steady.

"Mira…"

She didn't look up at first, fingers gently brushing the hilt of the wooden sword as if it might vanish if she let go.

"I didn't hear you come out," she finally said, her voice low, hoarse—thinned out by too many tears and not enough sleep.

Seth hesitated. "I was about to head out for training, thought I'd check in before I left."

Mira nodded faintly, still not meeting his eyes. "Training, right…" she echoed, her words trailing off like she didn't quite believe in them anymore.

"Just… be careful, and don't overdo—" Mira began, but her words caught in her throat as she suddenly found herself wrapped tightly in Seth's arms.

The shock froze her for a heartbeat- then it broke her.

Tears she had tried to hold back came rushing out all at once, raw and uncontrollable, as she clung to him like he might disappear too.

"Don't worry," Seth whispered softly into her ear, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. "You won't lose me too."

The words were meant for her, a comfort in the storm- but they were also a vow. A quiet promise he'd carved into the very marrow of his soul.

'I must survive… no matter what, for her.'

He held her tighter, letting her cry, letting her grief pour out, all while silently preparing himself for what was to come.

Soon, Seth found himself outside, mentally preparing to begin his usual round of physical training. But before he could even stretch, a sharp whizz tore through the air- an arrow zipped past his face, close enough to feel the wind it carried. It embedded itself into the tree behind him with a heavy thunk.

His instincts exploded into action.

In one fluid motion, he unsheathed the dagger strapped to his waist, his knees bending as he dropped into a crouched stance, minimizing his profile. Most people would have run- ducked behind cover, maybe- but Seth knew better. Moving blindly was how you got killed.

His eyes darted, scanning the treeline and nearby brush, his senses straining for any sign of movement. But there was nothing. No rustling leaves. No glint of a bowstring. Whoever shot that arrow was either long gone… or very good.

After a tense moment, Seth straightened, slowly.

He approached the tree and yanked the arrow free with a firm tug. The shaft was standard: wood, iron-tipped, nothing unusual- except for the tightly wound strip of parchment wrapped just beneath the fletching.

'A message…'

Seth's brow furrowed as he unraveled the small paper, his grip on the dagger not loosening one bit.

'(Meet me in our usual spot – Vince.)' The note was short, barely more than a whisper on paper, but it carried weight.

Seth stared at the words for a moment longer than necessary. His grip on the arrow tightened slightly before he finally let out a quiet breath.

So, Vince hadn't abandoned him after all.

Relief washed over him like a cool breeze, but it was immediately followed by the tightening coil of tension in his chest. If Vince was calling him now, it meant one thing- the test was ready.

He folded the note, slipping it into his pocket as he turned his gaze toward the path that led into the woods- Their usual spot. A place carved into memory by weeks of grueling training and bruises both physical and mental.

"Guess it's time," Seth muttered, his eyes narrowing with quiet resolve.

Reaching the familiar training field, Seth instinctively slowed his steps. He expected to see Vince waiting as usual, arms folded, gaze sharp. But instead, he was greeted by an empty stretch of land, the breeze brushing through the tall grass the only movement in sight.

Frowning, he scanned the area again, nothing.

'Did I come too early?' he wondered, taking a few cautious steps further in.

Then he saw it- a lone short sword embedded in the center of the field, its hilt sticking out of the earth like some kind of marker. There was no note, no sign of Vince, just that single blade resting unnaturally still in the soil.

Compelled by a mix of curiosity and caution, Seth approached. The closer he got, the more the hair on the back of his neck stood, something was off.

His fingers curled around the hilt, and the moment he pulled the blade free, the air changed.

Rustle.

It was faint at first, barely a whisper coming from the bushes around the clearing.

Then came the growls- low, guttural, and unmistakably close.

Seth's body tensed, and with practiced reflex, he dropped into a defensive stance, short sword in hand.

His eyes scanned the treeline as more rustling surrounded him. Shadows shifted. Something- or rather, several somethings were drawing closer.

And though Vince was nowhere in sight, Seth knew.

This was the test.

He just hadn't realized it until now.