Seven years had passed since the humans arrived in the elven lands.
Now, the long-awaited day had finally come. The Test of Fang — a sacred trial deeply rooted in the traditions of the elven tribes — was about to begin. The entire Runewood was alive with restless energy, as excitement and tension crackled in the air like sparks waiting to ignite.
For most elves, this day was more than just a ceremony. It was their chance to finally see the human child either prove his worth or fail miserably. And if he failed, it meant the humans — the unwelcome sore-eyes of their sacred land — would finally be forced to leave, a problem solved without directly defying the protection of the Elven Queen.
Now, under the pale light of the third moon of the seventh year, the Test of Fang had officially begun.
Traditionally, the Test of Fang was reserved for elven boys reaching fifteen — a coming-of-age trial, marking their readiness to join the ranks of hunters, guardians, and warriors of the Runewood. But this time, under heavy pressure from the tribal leaders and with the mysterious approval of the Whisker Oracle, an exception was made.
For the first time in elven history, a seven-year-old — a human — would face the trial.
The location for this monumental event was none other than Aetherthorn, the heart of the elven world. Serving as a grand central hub, Aetherthorn was much like a plaza or trade center in human cities, but far more breathtaking. Three massive trees, older than any living creature, towered over the area in a perfect triangle. Their colossal trunks reached into the heavens while their winding branches and roots intertwined above and below, forming a massive, natural dome that glowed softly with ancient magic.
The trees looked like three ancient guardians dancing in an eternal embrace, their presence both protective and intimidating. The ground beneath them was covered in polished, white stone, etched with glowing runes that pulsed with the energy of the forest itself.
At the very center stood a magnificent fountain. Crystalline water danced upward, reflecting the multicolored lights of floating orbs that hovered above, their glow casting vibrant reflections on the faces of the gathering elves. The fountain itself was carved from moonstone, its surface shimmering like liquid silver, drawing every eye toward it.
On the raised platform facing the gathered crowd sat the Queen of all Elves, her presence regal and untouchable. Queen Elarya was as radiant as the moonlight, her silver hair cascading like silk over her shoulders, while her deep emerald eyes gleamed with both wisdom and authority. Draped in flowing robes woven from enchanted spider silk, her attire shifted colors under the light, giving her an almost ethereal presence.
Beside her stood Mathes, the captain of her personal guard and leader of the Goldhair tribe. His golden hair, tied neatly behind his back, gleamed under the orbs' light, while his finely detailed armor shimmered with powerful enchantments etched directly into the metal.
The two other tribe leaders sat on custom-crafted thrones that reflected their tribe's identity.
Rhiki, leader of the Velka'Dar tribe, sat atop a throne carved from black marble, inscribed with ancient runes and adorned with the heads of countless beasts his tribe had hunted. The throne radiated dominance and danger, fitting for a tribe that thrived on strength and power.
Kardel, leader of the Sylvan'thir, had a throne forged from bronze-colored metal, embedded with softly glowing crystals that hummed with magical energy. The bronze shimmered under the moonlight, giving the impression that his seat pulsed with life itself—a perfect representation of a tribe that fused magic with intricate machinery and innovation.
Surrounding each leader were their council members — high-ranking warriors, mages, and scholars of their tribes — all dressed in ceremonial attire, their auras radiating power and pride.
As the sun dipped fully beneath the horizon, more elves arrived, filling the vast plaza. Their voices echoed through the natural amphitheater, blending into a buzzing mixture of gossip, speculation, and excitement.
This year was not just any trial. The candidates weren't only the finest young elves of the Runewood — but also included the human child, Rin, who would be the first outsider in history to ever take part.
The Test of Fang was more than just survival. It was a display of strength, intelligence, and the readiness to defend their sacred homeland. Each candidate was expected to venture into the dangerous wilds of Runewood and hunt down one of its deadliest creatures: a Night Crawler.
Night Crawlers were monstrous predators, creatures of shadow and venom that hunted under the cover of night. Only the strongest young elves who could bring back the fang of a slain Night Crawler would be granted the Queen's Blessing of Ascension — a powerful rite that not only elevated their social standing but also granted a surge of power, including experience points that could instantly propel them ten levels higher.
But there was a price for failure.
Each candidate was given three days. If they failed to return within that time, they would lose their chance forever, forced to live ordinary lives, bound to their life classes without the opportunity to rise as warriors or protectors.
Although many dreamt of attempting the test, strict rules limited it to elves aged twelve to twenty-two. But Rin's inclusion was a political exception. The leaders had argued for years, and now the Test of Fang was their legal, bloodless method to eliminate the human boy under the guise of tradition.
The plaza was filled to its brim. High up on the stage, seven ceremonial seats had been arranged for the participants — six already filled, while the seventh, reserved for Rin, remained empty.
As more elves arrived and settled on the winding roots and platforms surrounding the sacred trees, the conversations grew louder.
"Look at the center! That's Michael — the Goldhair prodigy!" one of Kardel's tribesmen whispered, pointing at a fair-skinned boy seated confidently, his polished sword strapped across his back.
"I heard he reached Tresforma stage already — and he's only twelve! Without even using magic!"
"He's the first of Goldhair to master pure swordsmanship. So cool!" another young elf sighed.
"Too bad your Frame's a magic class. You'll never hold a blade like him."
"I know, but can't I at least dream?" the elf chuckled.
Nearby, members of other tribes shared their own opinions.
"Pfft. The Goldhair tribe is full of arrogant fools," muttered a Sylvan'thir elf. "Leon'do and Anast'cia will crush them easily."
"Agreed. Smarter, calmer, and not blinded by pride," another added.
Suddenly, a deep voice interrupted from the Velka'Dar side.
"Don't fool yourselves. Gondar will win, hands down. Rhiki's son is unmatched in the hunt."
"What about Jairah? The daughter of Jeis?" a female dark elf asked.
"Bah. That traitor's offspring? Ever since her family brought those filthy humans here, everything's gone downhill," another spat, his voice venomous as his gaze locked on Jairah seated among the candidates.
The conversations turned to heated debates, with elves from every tribe casting bets and predictions on who would claim victory. Yet, as the voices peaked, they were suddenly cut off.
A heavy silence swept over the plaza like a cold wind.
The source of this silence? The two humans who had just entered the sacred grounds.
All eyes shifted, narrowed with disdain and hostility as Robert and Marissa, dressed in their formal best, stepped forward under heavy guard. The Goldhair warriors assigned to escort them stood like stone, fully armored, their golden crests gleaming under the moonlight. Their presence was not protection — but containment.
Robert's sharp gaze moved cautiously across the crowd, his hand instinctively brushing against the dagger hidden beneath his cloak. Marissa, though trying to keep composed, couldn't hide the slight tremble in her fingers. It was their first time stepping foot into Aetherthorn itself — a place they had only heard about from Jeis, who had prepared them for this moment.
Yet no amount of preparation could soften the cold, hateful stares drilling into them from every direction.
They made their way to their designated seats near the royal platform. But as they sat down, their hearts sank upon noticing the obvious — Rin's seat remained empty.
Marissa leaned slightly forward, her voice caught in her throat, but before she could speak, one of the Goldhair hosts stepped forward. His elegant robe swirled as he approached, his expression as cold as the wind.
"I assume you know where your little human went?" His voice cut like ice, without so much as a greeting.
"H-huh? Uhm…" Marissa stammered, overwhelmed by the crushing atmosphere and countless eyes boring into them.
"I asked you — where is the little human?" he repeated, louder this time. The surrounding elves snickered and whispered cruelly.
"Not only are they stupid, they're deaf."
"Stinky humans. May the boy die quickly, so we can finally be rid of them."
Ignoring the jeers, Robert spoke firmly, his brows furrowed. "We expected him to be here already. He left about an hour ago with Jaira."
The host shifted his cold gaze toward Jaira, seated among the candidates. His voice sharpened.
"Jaira, where is the human child?"
Still seated, Jaira frowned, her voice hesitant. "I-I thought he'd be back already. He said he was just going for a quick pee… but he hasn't returned."
Upon hearing the situation, one of the tribal leaders, Rhiki, rose to his feet without hesitation. His tall frame cast a shadow across his councilmen, his dark marble throne seeming to vibrate slightly under his weight.
"Then it's settled!" Rhiki announced with sharp authority, his voice echoing across Aetherthorn. "If the human fails to arrive on time, it is clear proof of his disrespect towards our traditions and laws. He should be banned from participation and declared a failed contestant."
Kardel, leader of the Sylvan'thir tribe, immediately followed suit. "I second the motion," he said, his voice as smooth as polished bronze. The two leaders exchanged glances, their sinister smiles hinting at the schemes that had long brewed beneath the surface. Their gazes flickered with satisfaction, as though their trap had finally snapped shut.
The host from the Goldhair tribe, observing the exchange from his place at the stage's center, curled his lips into a faint smile. He understood immediately what the two leaders were attempting — a cheap tactic. A political maneuver masked behind the laws of their customs. By enforcing this technicality, they could disqualify Rin without ever having to draw blood, thus expelling the humans entirely from their sacred land.
But Robert, who had been silently watching their expressions shift, quickly realized the trap unfolding before him. His sharp instinct — forged from years of both survival and politics — kicked in.
"Wait!" Robert interrupted, standing up with a composed yet firm tone. "I believe the scheduled start is on the seventh hour, yes? There should still be at least thirty minutes remaining before that."
The host sneered, cutting him off before he could continue. "Of course you would think that, human. But unlike your kind, we noble tribes of elves have a strict time culture — an hour's advance for events of sacred significance."
His voice was laced with mockery, and many of the elves nodded in feigned agreement. But confusion rippled through the audience as well.
Several younger elves scratched their heads, whispering in hushed voices.
"Do we have that rule?" one muttered. "I mean… we always show up late, don't we? Like, at least an hour late—ow!"
His seatmate quickly elbowed him in the ribs, silencing his unhelpful observation.
The host continued, as though he hadn't heard the whispering, "And by the virtue and authority bestowed upon me as host of this year's Test of Fang, I hereby declare the human contestant—"
"WAAAAIT!"
The booming, youthful voice sliced through the thick tension like lightning. Every head snapped toward the direction of the sound.
From behind the grand stage, a figure sprinted forward. A young boy — no older than seven — burst into view, his clothes dusted with dirt, his hair slightly disheveled as if he had just come from some brawl or wild adventure. Yet his eyes gleamed with unyielding spirit.
His face wore the biggest grin imaginable, like a kid sneaking into a candy shop without permission.
He charged toward the vacant seventh seat with such energy that his entrance felt like a gust of fresh wind blowing through the suffocating air. The golden runes on the floor momentarily flared as he crossed them, almost reacting to his arrival.
The moment his bright eyes locked onto the seething glares of Rhiki and Kardel, the boy raised his hand and threw them a cheeky YOLO sign, flashing his confident grin like an open challenge.
"Auren!" Marissa, Robert, and Jaira shouted in unison as they jumped up from their seats, a mixture of relief and exasperation on their faces.
The crowd's attention immediately locked onto the boy — Rin, now known as Auren — the human child of prophecy. Mixed emotions swept through the sea of elves.
Some watched with faint curiosity, some with barely veiled interest, but the majority glared at him with pure hostility.
Even after all these years, many refused to believe the Whisker Oracle's ancient prophecy — that this human child would one day play a pivotal role in saving Runewood.
"Sorry to keep you waiting!" Auren waved playfully to the crowd, his voice echoing with that innocent cockiness unique to him.
Robert, still half-shocked but trying to remain composed, asked sternly, "You made us worry, Auren! Where on earth have you been?!"
Over the past seven years, Robert had poured everything into preparing Auren — teaching him combat, survival, tracking, potion crafting — training him for this very moment. Both he and Marissa had sacrificed much to help Auren stand among the elves.
The moment they realized he was missing, fear had gripped their hearts, knowing just how much the elves resented them.
"It's fine, Dad." Auren answered calmly, brushing dust off his pants. "I ran into a little… situation. But nothing serious. No time to talk about it now. What matters is that I'm here."
He turned toward Kardel and Rhiki, speaking loud enough for all to hear, his voice strong and unwavering. "Nothing's going to stop me. Not even you two."
Both tribal leaders stared daggers at him, their faces twitching with frustration. The crowd murmured once more, their hostility palpable.
Robert and Marissa exchanged glances. Though deeply concerned by Auren's vague explanation, they knew better than to press him now. Whatever trouble he'd encountered, their son had once again overcome it — and came back stronger… and, as always, louder.
"HELLO TO ALL MY FANS!" Auren then shouted, waving to the surrounding elves with exaggerated cheerfulness.
The response came like venom spat into the air.
"Get lost, human! Crawl back to your filth hole, Frameless freak!"
"Die, human scum! Let the Night Crawler rip you apart!"
"F*ck you! You're a walking corpse already!"
Their venomous jeers echoed like a twisted choir, but Auren simply grinned and turned to his only childhood friend — Jaira, seated nearby. His expression shifted into an amused smirk as he whispered sarcastically.
"They really love me, don't they?"
Jaira couldn't help but chuckle nervously, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Auren. But I'm glad you made it."