Arthur fiddled with an old-looking coin, turning it over and over in his hands. This was all he could find on Ezriel's body after the old man had passed. It didn't make much sense. Ezriel had claimed a Forest Mauler was nothing to him, yet he carried nothing of obvious value, save for this single, strange coin.
Looking closely at it in the dim green light of the lingering mana crystals in the passage, he could see ancient, unfamiliar carvings. Strange symbols were etched deeply into one face, surrounding a perfect cube at its center. The other side was covered in tiny, almost microscopic scribbles that he couldn't decipher.
Perhaps he would take a closer look later.
He carefully tucked the coin into a small inner pocket of his trousers, then looked around the now-empty cavern. His sword was nowhere to be seen. Vanished. But his iron pendant was back around his neck, resting in its rightful place against his skin, its familiar coolness a small comfort.
"Where did he put my sword?" Arthur muttered, searching every inch of the crystal-lit cavern again. He retraced his steps, checked behind every large crystal formation, even felt along the walls of the narrow passage he'd first entered through. It was as if he'd never even brought it into the cave.
And then there was the final mystery: the new, intricate symbol that had burned itself onto his chest. The moment his own pendant had touched his skin again, Arthur had felt a slight tingling. When he'd dared to check, the burning mark of the crown was gone, faded away as if it had never existed.
All of what Arthur had just been through bewildered him. If he walked out of this cave system now, the strange coin in his pocket would be the only proof of the impossible encounter.
Taking a deep breath, Arthur steeled himself. Dwelling on it wouldn't help. He needed to move.
As he'd searched for his sword, he had found another passage leading out of the main cavern, different from the narrow fissure he'd squeezed through to escape the Mauler. This one was wider, sloping gently upwards. Ezriel had probably used this way to enter.
This new path was longer, but Arthur had no choice but to follow it. He could see a faint, natural light filtering in from the other end.
With his pockets stuffed with a few small, broken-off mana crystals he'd gathered from the cavern floor, and the ancient coin tucked safely away, he emerged from a larger, more natural-looking opening between some moss-covered boulders.
Stepping out into the forest proper, he immediately scanned his surroundings. He was greeted by the cheerful chirps of unseen birds and the familiar rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth. A pair of rabbits with twitching noses watched him for a moment before darting away. The normalcy was a stark contrast to the eerie silence and glowing green of the cavern.
Taking a deep breath of fresh, morning air, he allowed himself to relax for only a fleeting moment before his expression turned serious again. Without a sword, he was vulnerable.
He looked to the right. The sun had just climbed above the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Quickly, he looked back forward and started running back towards the training area. This was deep in the forest, nowhere an apprentice should be, even with a weapon.
Mana rushed into his legs, and he sprinted forwards. The wind whipped at his face, cool and pleasant as his hair streamed behind him.
He was going fast. Faster than he thought possible, faster than he had ever run before. The world seemed to blur slightly at the edges of his vision, yet objects directly in front of him appeared with a new, startling clarity. He felt it too, a definitive change from before he'd entered the cave.
He was stronger, more agile. The mana under his control felt more potent, more responsive. Whatever the old man, Ezriel, had done to him, it had undeniably made him stronger.
But Arthur knew part of it was also the harrowing experience with the Forest Mauler. An encounter that close to life and death had pushed him beyond his known limits, forging something new within him.
In what felt like only a couple of minutes, Arthur saw the welcome sight of red boundary tags tied to tree branches. He'd made it back into the relatively safer territory of the training exercise.
Finally skidding to a stop, Arthur leaned heavily against a thick tree, gasping for breath, a wave of relief washing over him. He was in much safer territory now, though still far from truly safe.
Thoughts raced through his mind as the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in. Ezriel. The pendant. The "Candidate" status. The new mark that appeared and disappeared.
"I should keep all of this a secret," he decided almost immediately. "But… should I tell my parents?" He was conflicted. He didn't know what to do.
Ezriel had said he was meant to be a Candidate, but Arthur had no idea what that truly meant.
"Would Mom and Dad even know?" he wondered.
That was a question for a later date. Right now, adrenaline still pumped through his veins. The frustration and terror of being hunted by the Mauler had left a bitter taste.
It was time to get back into the survival training. And to do that, he had to get his hands on a weapon.
_________________________________________________
Beneath the shade of a broad-leafed maple, two boys from Valemarch Academy, clad in their brown and gold, sat talking to each other.
"I heard Alaric and his party are still crushing everyone, taking first place. No surprise there, the Valewyn heir is a monster with that greatsword of his."
The second boy nodded, taking a swig from his waterskin. "Yeah, but Highcrest's Ice Queen, Seraphina Vayne, is apparently right on their tail. I think she took down a pack of three Thorn Hounds."
"Thorn Hounds? Those things are nasty…."
Hiding above them, Arthur listened from the dense foliage of the maple. He had been hiding in it before they arrived, and to his luck, they chose this spot to take a rest.
His eyes, sharp and focused, were fixed on the two Valemarch students. More specifically, on the swords strapped to their belts and the bulging supply packs resting beside them.
He took a slow, silent breath, mana beginning to gather, coiling within him like a patient predator. The two boys were still chatting, one of them now idly poking at a beetle with a stick.
Arthur moved.
He erupted from the bushes with a speed that would have surprised even himself a day ago. The first boy, the one with the stick, barely had time to register a blur of motion before Arthur's fist, empowered by a surge of mana, connected solidly with his jaw. The boy's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled without a sound.
The second student yelped in shock, scrambling backward, his hand fumbling for his sword hilt. "Who—?!"
Arthur didn't give him the chance to draw. He closed the distance in a single mana step.
His left hand shot out, deflecting the boy's clumsy attempt to draw his weapon, while his right delivered a precise, open-palm strike to the side of the boy's neck. Another soft thud, and the second Valemarch student slumped to the ground, unconscious.
It was over in less than five seconds.
Arthur stood over them, shaking his head.
"Alright, let's look at what they have." He chuckled, rubbing his hands.