Trial by Hunt

A hush blanketed the metallic forest, a living cathedral of silver and violet, its towering trees humming with an unseen current. Each trunk, sleek as polished steel, pulsed faintly with the lifeblood of the world—a deep, resonant thrum felt more than heard.

The air carried the scent of iron-rich soil and electric charge, an orchestra of the old and the new. Overhead, draqs—aerial sentinels of the sky—drifted with wings like liquid chrome, their cries distorted through the prism of the dense biome.

Kal breathed it all in, his boots pressing against the glistening roots beneath him.

A Mission Worthy of the Gallant

"It's good to see you're progressing," Art said, his voice smooth yet weighted with unspoken trials. "But today's not about progress. It's about proving."

Kal arched a brow. "Proving what?"

"That not everything can be learned in the safety of walls," Art replied. "Glyphbooks, screens, simulations—they forge the mind, but the field forges the soul. And you, my student, must be tempered in both."

With a flick of his wrist, Art touched his SkinScreen, the bioluminescent interface woven into the flesh of his left forearm. A holographic sigil flared to life above his skin—ruby-hued, angular, an insignia of the Galactic Gallant registry. Its sharp edges whispered authority; its glow promised peril.

Kal felt the weight of it before he even read the mission details.

Mission Brief The Hunt Begins:

Objective: Brigoris clearing. Livestock killings must cease. Prana Threat Level: Standard. Crystal Resonance: Stable. Hostilities are expected along the route. Reward: 700 vail. Expected Opposition: Brigoris packs.

"A Ruby-level contract?" Kal's pulse quickened. "That's no errand run. That's—"

"A lesson." Art locked eyes with him. "It popped up at the right time, and I trust the universe when it aligns things."

Kal felt the stirrings of a grin. The prospect of real battle, of testing himself beyond the sterile walls of training halls, sent a restless hunger through his limbs. "Then let's hunt."

Training the Senses: Unlocking Ardour Location

Art gave a small nod but held up a hand. "Lesson one begins before we move."

He stopped Kal in his tracks.

"Tell me," Art said, his voice lowering. "What's around us?"

Kal scanned the landscape, keen eyes flicking over silvered foliage and the darting figures of draqs above. "Metallic trees. Draqs in the canopy. The sky, pale with mist. A pond about twenty meters east."

"A good start," Art said. "But awareness isn't just sight. You have more than one sense. Close your eyes."

Kal hesitated. Then he shut them.

"Now," Art's voice drifted around him, omnipresent. "Tell me what you oversee."

Kal furrowed his brows. "That doesn't make sense."

"You're trying too hard," Art murmured. "Force and flow—balance them."

Kal exhaled. Let the tension fall from his shoulders. He reached for something beyond sight, beyond sound. His Prana stretched outward, and suddenly—

A ripple in his perception.

A vibration, faint but vast. The ground beneath his feet whispered secrets, and the air carried echoes of movement. He felt the pulse of the forest, the unseen signatures of life. He wasn't just standing in the world—he was within it, of it.

"It's…" Kal struggled for words. "It's like…I'm attuned. Like I can feel everything."

Art smiled, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Congratulations. You just unlocked Ardour Location. A skill only those in the House of Ardour possess."

Kal's breath hitched. A technique exclusive to his House?

Art gestured ahead. "What else do you see?"

Kal focused. The vibrations twisted and solidified into form. "Tracks." His voice held awe. "Footprints. I see them clear as day."

"Open your eyes."

Kal's lids flicked up. He glanced down. The tracks had been there the whole time. A frustration welled up in him—how had he missed something so obvious?

Art clapped him on the shoulder. "Sometimes, all you need is a change in perspective to realize what you were searching for was right in front of you."

An Omen Unseen: The Universe Shifts

He said it with a knowing tone, but something flickered in his gaze—something else, something personal.

Far away, in the city's heart, Roqs sneezed.

"Eugh, disgusting," Kar scowled, recoiling in the penthouse study room. "If you're getting sick, stay far away from me."

Roqs sniffed, rubbing her nose. "I feel fine. Someone must be talking about me."

Kar rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like the universe has time for gossip."

But as she said it, something shifted in the air—an omen unseen, a weight settling over existence itself.

Back in the metallic forest, Kal's training had only just begun. And though he didn't know it yet, his real test would be far more than mere Brigoris. It would be the razor's edge between victory and ruin, between mastery and oblivion.