Chapter 2 : A Morning Test 1

The hand on his shoulder was gentle, but the voice cracked like thunder.

"Get up, you sleepy head."

Carpathia's shadow loomed over Itekan as the boy blinked blearily into the half-lit dark. Night still wrapped the world in velvet silence, and the last fragments of his dream clung stubbornly to his mind — warm, golden, almost too sweet to leave behind.

Itekan rubbed his eyes, frowning. Dreams had never left this bitter a taste.

"Dad… it's still night," he mumbled, yawning deep as he scratched his cheek.

"Exactly. That's why we're leaving now."

The words were tossed carelessly over Carpathia's shoulder as he strode from the room, boots echoing on old wooden floors.

"Leaving?" The sleep drained from Itekan's bones. His voice chased after his father. "Where are we going?"

The answer drifted like smoke down the hall. "A red zone."

The words struck like ice water. Gone was the haze of sleep — Itekan was out of bed and dressed in moments, feet light against the cold floor. His heart drummed, part fear, part thrill.

Red zones.

Regions so overridden by demon beasts they were quarantined for third-stage heroes — seasoned, hardened veterans. Beginners weren't even permitted to approach their borders.

And yet, here he was. His father — a man of shadows and whispers — had invited him.

Carpathia waited downstairs, silent as stone. Without a word, he took Itekan's hand. A breath later, the world turned black — not darkness, but obliteration, like mist swallowing flesh and bone — and they vanished.

---

They reappeared high above an endless black forest. Moonlight cut thin silver blades across a sea of trees that stretched forever.

Itekan's boots hovered just above the treetops, dangling from his father's iron grip.

"Uhm… Dad? When are we going down?"

His voice cracked. His eyes never left the abyss below.

"In a moment. Wait."

Carpathia's gaze was locked downward, sharp and unblinking. Itekan followed it, and his breath caught hard in his throat.

The clearing below crawled.

Black chitin shimmered under faint light. Dozens — no, hundreds — of chimera ants swarmed below, each easily half his size, thick and broad as bulls, pincers gleaming wickedly. Their eyes glowed dim, beady embers of malice.

"Dad…" Itekan's voice trembled. "Don't tell me—"

"Yes." Carpathia's voice didn't waver. "You're going in. You're going to hunt. And you'll bring me the golden egg of the chimera nest."

"B-but—"

He didn't finish. His father's hand opened.

And Itekan fell.

Wind roared in his ears as the canopy surged toward him, a blur of branches and claws. His scream ripped through the night. Desperation clawed at him — his arms flailed, grabbing wildly. Fingers snagged bark, but it snapped instantly under his weight. His plummet slowed — barely — and branches tore at his skin in sharp, stinging lashes.

He hit the forest floor hard, breath punched clean out of him.

Pain bloomed in jagged lines across his arms and legs, his tailbone throbbed viciously, but bones held. He lay gasping for air. Slowly, shakily, he pushed to his feet, hand pressed against his sore backside.

"That hurt…" he hissed under his breath.

The crackle of skittering feet shattered the stillness.

Close.

Too close.

Itekan spun, just in time to see a chimera ant lurch from the shadows.

It towered over him — thick legs like tree trunks, jagged pincers twice the width of his head. Its mandibles clacked once, fast and sharp.

Instinct screamed. He dove backwards as claws sliced the air before him. His hand scrambled through the underbrush.

Nothing.

The ant charged again. Its claw swept sideways — faster this time — and hit home.

Fire seared through Itekan's shoulder as the pincer cleaved deep into flesh. Blood sprayed, hot and bright. His scream echoed raw. His fingers, slick and shaking, closed around something hard.

A stone.

No thought. Only instinct.

He swung it.

Once.

Twice.

A third time — the crack of chitin splitting under force.

He didn't stop.

He hammered the stone into the ant's head again and again until the skull caved, until green ichor splattered across the leaves, until the creature twitched no more.

Breath ragged, Itekan stumbled back, staring at the mangled corpse. His chest heaved.

He had killed.

He had killed, and it had tried to kill him.

His lips parted, words tumbling out more to himself than anyone else. "It tried to kill me…"

Then he froze. His wound — the gash across his shoulder — shifted.

Tendrils of black mist bled from the torn flesh. Slowly, silently, the skin knit back together.

In seconds, it was whole again. Only a faint scar lingered.

He stared, wide-eyed.

A second later, the ground trembled.

More were coming.

The sound of trampling feet — dozens of them — surged toward him from the darkness. His legs kicked into motion. He scrambled up the nearest tree, chest burning, breath ragged.

Before climbing, he had snapped the pincer from the dead ant and hastily lashed it to a long branch with thick vines — a crude spear.

It wasn't pretty. It just had to work.

Below, the swarm flooded into the clearing. The ants paused, their antennae twitching. Then, as one, they turned toward him — and began cutting down the trees.

Not just his — all of them.

Panic flared hot in his gut. Bark splintered. Roots cracked. His perch groaned ominously.

Snap.

The tree lurched. Itekan acted. He shifted his weight to the left — drawing the ants closer — then leapt hard right.

He landed on the back of a chimera ant, driving both knees into its shell. The tree crashed down a heartbeat later, flattening several beneath it. Without wasting a breath, Itekan roared and plunged his makeshift spear between the eyes of the ant beneath him.

Splash.

Green ichor burst free, coating his arms and face as the creature convulsed and fell limp.

The others hesitated. Their shrieks rattled the air — more cautious now. More wary.

Itekan rose, chest heaving, dark ichor dripping from his chin. His hands gripped the crude spear tight, knuckles white.

"Come at me," he rasped. His voice was low, rough, feral.

"Come at me, you dumb creatures."