TRIAL OF THE WILD
ELEANOR GRAVES
The wind howled through the tall bare trees, their charred branches stretching out towards the overcast sky like burned fingers. Beneath them, the recruits formed rough lines, some shifting nervously, others radiating anticipation. The survival training had begun.
I stood on a rock prominence over the dense underbrush beneath, arms folded as I observed the freshly divided groups. The island we're utilizing for this trial is one of the ones filled with mutated beasts since the Cataclysm two months back. It's crawling with deformed abominations, beasts mutated beyond any recognition. Most of these recruits wouldn't emerge unscathed. Some wouldn't emerge at all.
"You are now in the Trial of the Wild," I stated, my voice cutting through the wind like a blade. "Your task is simple—survive. Work with your team, utilize your abilities, and return in seven days' time. But be warned—the creatures that dwell here will not hesitate to tear you apart. This is no simulation. If you fail, you die."
A few students exchanged apprehensive looks. Others, like that conceited one back there, grinned as if this was just another practice bout. They would learn soon enough.
I watched as the groups broke off into the wilderness, their tentative footsteps swallowed up by the thick fog rolling in across the terrain. Then, I activated the long-range holographic display on my gauntlet, monitoring their movements through the surveillance drones overhead.
---
The initial assault arrived sooner than expected.
A party of four, led by a girl named Liana, encountered a Flesh Maw Hound—a twisted wolf-like creature with exposed muscle and a jaw that split in quarters, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. Its body pulsed as if something fought beneath its skin. It sprang forward, claws bared into ragged bone.
Liana reacted first, summoning a hail of icicles from her fingertips. The beast was speared by the frozen shards, slowing but not slaying it. The hound contorted in ways unnatural, bones cracking as it tore itself free from the ice. One of the other recruits panicked and tried to run.
Fool.
With inhuman speed, the hound pounced, its jaws closing about the neck of the running boy. His cry ended abruptly, his blood soaking the earth.
Liana clenched her teeth. "Together! We strike it together!"
The other two hesitated before bracing themselves. One let loose an explosion of flame, the other calling on the winds to form slashing currents. The concerted effort shattered the beast, leaving only ash and bone.
One group down to three. They had discovered the price of hesitation.
---
Deeper in the woods, another fight raged.
A group of six was unfortunate enough to encounter a Chimera Stalker—a panther-like beast with obsidian scales, three fiery red eyes, and a prehensile tail ending in a venomous spike. It moved like a liquid shadow, weaving between attacks with unnatural nimbleness.
The recruits fought hard. A stout lad swung a battle-axe with a lightning-topped head, but the creature coiled around him, fangs sinking into his shoulder. He convulsed violently, his screams fading to gurgles as the poison liquefied his guts.
A telekinetic girl tried to lift the Chimera Stalker, but it twisted in the air, using the momentum to fling itself at her. Claws ripped through her shield, cleaving her in two before she could so much as react.
The remaining survivors—only three of them now—fled for their lives. They had no choice. Some fights could not be won.
---
Elsewhere, Joshua's party was faring better. He stood amidst the corpses of three Carrion Serpents, ugly snake-like creatures with transparent flesh, revealing the pulsing innards beneath. Their fangs dripped corrosive bile.
He had killed them effortlessly.
Dark tentacles snaked from his hands, piercing the skulls of the serpents and crushing them before they could strike. Shadows curled around him protectively, forming an almost impenetrable barrier. His teammates watched in amazement—and a hint of fear.
Joshua wiped his hands on his cloak, breathing out. "That all?"
A bold one. Good.
---
Then, there was Olamilekan.
His party had been unlucky—or perhaps it was fate. They encountered an Abyssal Reaver, a massive abomination with the torso of a man attached to the body of a centipede, its arms replaced with jagged bone scythes. Its face, which had no eyes, opened vertically, revealing a pit of writhing tendrils.
His fellow soldiers froze. That was all it took. The Reaver struck, scythes flashing. One recruit was cut in half instantly. Another tried to run, only for a tendril to spear them mid-step.
However, Olamilekan didn't flinch.
He exhaled, his golden-black aura exploding into being. The runes reappeared, circling around his arms as the air around him rippled.
The Reaver detected real danger. It charged—but Olamilekan raised a single hand.
BOOM!
The ground exploded beneath them, threads of light and darkness coiling around one another as they exploded into the air. The Reaver shrieked, its form disintegrating as raw power broke it down from the inside out. The runes encircling Olamilekan blazed furiously before extinguishing themselves.
His teammates—those who remained—stared in stunned silence.
So did I.
Even via the surveillance drone, I could feel the scale of his power. The boy was beyond anything we'd witnessed.
"Captain," one of my subordinates cried out. "Should we step in? His magic is too strong."
I narrowed my eyes. "No. Let him continue to fight."
This was only the start.
---
As night descended upon the island, I witnessed more fights break out, more students drop, and only the resilient remain.
The Trial of the Wild was not a trial. It was war in its most concentrated form. And by the time it
, the weak would be buried beneath the roots of this accursed earth.
Only the worthy would remain.
OLAMILEKAN
The final day of survival training brought an eerie silence. The wilderness that had once been alive with sounds was now a cemetery of splintered trees, scorched earth, and the distant scent of blood. The three hundred and eighty-seven recruits who began the trial seven days prior had been reduced to a meager one hundred and seventy-two. Some came out of the jungle with no more than a scratch or two, while others bore deep gashes—mementos of the merciless fighting they had endured.
I was among the survivors, my body aching but in one piece. My tunic was torn, grime and dried blood clinging to it, yet I was more aware than ever. Seven days of constant vigilance, of fighting not just beasts but hunger and exhaustion as well, had sharpened my senses. But the faces that surrounded me—those that remained—told a different story. Some recruits carried the weight of loss in their eyes, while others were too battle-hardened to express anything at all.
Captain Graves surveyed us from atop a platform, her eyes searching the group with a kind of approval. "You have survived," she shouted, her voice ringing across the clearing. "Of three hundred and eighty-seven, one hundred and seventy-two remain. The weak have fallen. The careless have perished. Those who survive. have proven themselves worthy of the next step."
There were whispers throughout the group. There was no time for grieving, no acknowledgment of the deceased. Only the awareness that their sacrifice had been expected.
"You will be given a week's rest," Graves continued. "Use it well. Recover, reflect. For once your bodies have healed, your training will truly begin."
The week of rest was strange. The barracks were quieter than normal, the lack of so many recruits haunting the halls. Joshua and I scarcely spoke of what we saw out there—of the monstrous creatures with six eyes, razor-sharp protrusions, and skin too thick for normal weapons to pierce. Of the recruits who had screamed for help but had been too far away to save. We both knew that there was no use in lingering over it.
----
After the break, we were summoned back to the training field, where we met a new instructor. He was a dark-skinned man with a shaved head and piercing amber eyes, his muscular physique barely concealed by his tight black combat suit. The aura he had about him was suffocating, as though being near him demanded obedience.
"I am Commander Rael," he said, his deep voice oozing with authority. "You will address me as such. Your life is meaningless if you cannot fight. From now, we test your true combat skills."
The initial drill was simple: one-on-one sparring matches. It wasn't about winning—a question of noting strengths and weaknesses. Some fights were finished in seconds, others drawn out as magic flared, lighting up the training grounds in bursts of fire, ice, and lightning.
Joshua was paired against a recruit I had barely spoken to—a girl with wind affinity. When the match began, he surprised everyone. His shadows were faster, coiling around the girl's legs before she could react. The air crackled as he shoved her back, his energy more contained than when he had done it during the awakening test. I could see it in his stance, in the fact that he no longer stumbled. He was improving. And fast.
Then it was my turn.
I stepped into the ring, up against a burly recruit who possessed fire magic. The fight didn't even take a minute. The moment I unleashed my magic, the runes appeared, churning in the air around me. The ground trembled beneath my feet, and my opponent was blown away before he could even raise a defense.
The whispers started.
"He's too powerful."
"He didn't even try."
"He's a danger."
Commander Rael's eyes locked with mine, unreadable. Then, without a second's warning, he raised his hand. There was a ripping, searing agony, and I dropped to one knee. A suppression seal had been activated. My power—my very existence—felt as if it had been crushed under an invisible heel.
"You are unstable," Rael said, his voice cold. "Your power is useless if you cannot control it."
I gritted my teeth, trying to stand, but the force of the suppression was too great. My magic thrashed inside me, fighting the restraint. I was scared for the first time—not of the power itself, but of losing control again and what that would do.
"Enough." Graves' voice cut the air. The pressure released at once, and I breathed.
Commander Rael stepped back. "He is not ready," he muttered, then turned and left.
The next few days went by in a blur of difficult training sessions, my magic always suppressed by suppression seals. It was infuriating. Joshua continued to improve, while I stalled, unable to push my limits.
Then, everything changed.
It happened during a high-intensity training exercise. We were shoved into a mock battlefield, with called creatures designed to replicate the terrors we had faced in the wilderness. I battled as I always did, careful not to use too much of my power, but then—a hesitation. A mistake. A clawed creature assaulted me with more speed than I could defend against.
Pain exploded in my side as the claws of the monster tore at my flesh. My uniform was damp with blood. The world tilted, my vision fuzzing. And my magic shattered.
The suppression seals shattered. The runes flared around me, burning brightly as power tore out of me uncontrolled.
The battlefield froze. The beasts, the recruits, even the instructors—all looked as the air crackled with energy. My vision grayed at the edges, my body reacting on instinct. The ground tore open as gold and black energy churned together, spinning outward. The beasts were consumed in a moment. The air pressure built, suffocating, crushing—
A firm hand gripped my shoulder.
"Ola."
Joshua's voice. Distant. Almost overwhelmed by the thunder in my ears.
Then, torture. A second suppression seal descended upon me with the force of a thousand bricks, forcing the magic back into line. I fell to the ground, gasping. My entire body burned from the inside out.
When I looked up, I met the horror in the eyes of those around me.
Even the Instructors. Even Commander Rael.
Captain Graves stood over me, her expression impassive. "Take him to the infirmary," she ordered.
Then, less loudly, almost to herself:
"He's more dangerous than I thought."