Chp 19: The Trial of the Wilds
Upon arriving at the fortress, Grey was greeted by a grand feast held in honor of the arrival of heroes. Amidst the celebratory clamor, he soon encountered three knights who immediately approached him with open arms. Their names were Ash, Baran, and Levy. They exuded warmth and friendliness, and they were the first to break the silence after the feast.
"Welcome, Grey!" Ash said, his voice hearty as he clapped Grey on the back. "We've been expecting you. It's good to finally meet a fellow warrior with such a storied past."
Baran, a broad-shouldered knight with a deep, reassuring tone, nodded in agreement. "Here, we celebrate the arrival of heroes. We fight to protect our people and build a future of honor. You belong with us, Grey."
Levy, whose gentle eyes shone with quiet confidence, smiled. "We're all on our own paths to greatness, but together, our strength multiplies. Let's begin this new chapter as brothers-in-arms."
That night, amidst the revelry, Grey found himself reflecting on his own journey. Memories of past battles and the struggles he'd endured mingled with a cautious hope for the future. The feast was not only a celebration of triumphs but also a promise—a promise that, despite their separate ways, the heroes would one day reconvene to defend their cherished homeland.
The following morning, as the golden sun climbed higher in the sky, Commander Arthur arrived at the fortress with a new directive. His presence was commanding; even in his advanced years, his eyes burned with the intensity of countless battles. "Knights!" he bellowed, gathering Grey and his newfound companions. "Today, we move from celebration to action. The forest beyond our walls teems with monsters, and it is your duty to prove your mettle by facing them head-on."
Without delay, Grey joined Commander Arthur and a small contingent from the fortress. They equipped themselves with real, gleaming swords—a far cry from the wooden practice weapons of their early training days. Their faces, though marked by fatigue and scars, were resolute as they marched toward the dark, foreboding forest.
The forest was a realm of shadow and menace, its thick canopy blocking out the sun and its twisted paths echoing with the distant growls of wild beasts. Arthur's voice, steady and uncompromising, cut through the eerie silence as they advanced. "Grey," he called, "today you will face these creatures without relying on your aura. You must learn to depend solely on your skill and cunning. No more shortcuts—your blade and your wits must carry you through."
Grey's heart pounded as he surveyed the surroundings. In the dim light, he could make out the shapes of several packs of wolftains—a fearsome breed of wolf armored with vicious spikes, their eyes glinting with predatory hunger. The creatures moved in coordinated packs, a living testament to the wild's brutal order. Grey knew that his current strength might not be enough for a direct confrontation. Instead, he resolved to rely on strategy.
Stealing away from the main group, Grey navigated through the undergrowth with silent determination. He sought a vantage point—a fallen tree that would offer him a clear view of the enemy's formation. From his perch, he watched as a particular wolftain lagged slightly behind its kin; its neck, unprotected by the usual bristles of spikes, revealed a fatal vulnerability.
Time seemed to stretch as Grey waited. His pulse thundered in his ears, and he could almost taste the tension in the cool, damp air. Finally, he took a deep breath, summoned his courage, and leapt from his hiding spot. In one fluid motion, his sword arced through the air, its blade glinting as it aimed for the exposed neck. The strike was precise—a clean cut that brought the wolftain down with a pained, guttural cry.
Not wasting a moment, Grey followed with another swift attack, taking down a second wolftain before the remaining creatures could react. But the victory was short-lived. Enraged by the loss of their kin, three other wolftains converged on Grey from all sides, their snarls echoing through the forest.
Caught in the midst of the sudden onslaught, Grey's instincts took over. He blocked the first charge with a solid parry, the impact reverberating through his arm. A second attack came swiftly, sharp claws raked across his side, leaving a searing wound that drew a thin line of blood. Pain flared, yet Grey pushed through, driven by the memory of every sacrifice that had led him to this moment.
"Either be killed or be dead," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth as he fought back with a newfound ferocity. Instead of charging headlong, he retreated into a brief tactical lull, using the forest's natural cover to reposition himself. His mind raced—he knew that his aura, which had always aided him in battle, was off-limits today. Without its bolstering force, he was alone with his skill and his will.
Determined, Grey focused on the lessons of strategy. He waited until one of the wolftains advanced too close, then sprang forward with a clean, decisive strike aimed at its neck—the weakness he had identified earlier. The beast fell in an instant, its roar cut short by the precision of Grey's blade.
However, the remaining two wolftains pressed in from opposite sides, their coordinated attacks relentless. Grey found himself locked in a grueling one-on-one duel with the larger, more aggressive creature. For several agonizing minutes, he parried and counterattacked, each swing of his sword a desperate bid for survival. The relentless assault wore him down, and at one point, a savage swipe from the creature grazed his back. The pain was sharp, a stark reminder that every victory came at a cost.
Drawing upon every ounce of his training and resolve, Grey summoned the courage to launch one final, all-out assault. With a swift leap, he dodged an incoming strike, then delivered a powerful blow that severed the enemy's neck in a single, fluid motion. The last wolftain fell, and the clearing was finally silent save for the ragged breaths of the exhausted warrior.
As Grey made his way back through the forest, he reflected on the day's events. The adrenaline of battle still pulsed in his veins, mingling with the ache of every cut and bruise. In that solitary moment, he made a silent vow: he would become stronger. Not just for himself, but for every soul that depended on him. Every drop of sweat, every scar, was a testament to the trials he had endured, and he knew there was still much more to learn.