"But we talked about this. When we get here, pretend you don't know me. We're in front of my people, remember." Jairah's voice was soft, strained, as she lowered her head slightly, avoiding the judging gazes of the nearby elves.
"Yeah, yeah. Onee-chan," Auren grinned playfully, brushing the dust from his clothes and legs as though they weren't standing in one of the most politically dangerous places for a human in the entire Runewood.
An hour ago, before the entire Aetherthorn plaza had filled with the excited murmurs of thousands of elves, Auren and Jairah had come early to scout the ceremonial grounds. Using a disguise he crafted himself — prosthetic ears, tinted skin, and makeup — Auren had masqueraded as an elf with surprising effectiveness. Despite being only seven years old, he carried himself like someone far older — which, technically, he was.
Even Robert and Marissa, his adoptive parents, often found themselves stunned by Auren's abnormal intellect. He'd spoken his first words at ten months — slurred but understandable — walked confidently by three months, and by a year and a half, was already reading and writing fluently. Sometimes he'd even mutter strange gibberish words neither of them recognized.
When asked how he knew so much at such a young age, Auren always replied with the same rehearsed line, accompanied by a mischievous grin:
"It's a gift from the Golden Phoenix."
It was, of course, a lie—a convenient cover to hide his reincarnated soul from Earth.
Robert and Marissa believed it wholeheartedly. They saw it as a divine blessing and wasted no time providing him with every resource to maximize his talents. Under Robert's tutelage, Auren trained daily in swordsmanship, martial arts, magic theory, languages, geography, herbalism, and even mechanical invention. Books, scrolls, and rare manuscripts became his toys.
By the age of three, Auren could already channel basic aura into a sword. His daily routine was grueling: morning sword drills, afternoon magic practice, evening studies in alchemy, survival, engineering, and military tactics. His memory was nothing short of photographic, his curiosity insatiable.
At six years old, Auren could spar evenly with Robert, at least for a short time. Though Robert's physical strength and battle experience always overpowered him in the end, it was clear that Auren was destined to become something far beyond normal. His homemade inventions — crude but functional firearms he called "guns" and primitive "grenades" — were effective enough to give even experienced warriors pause.
Thanks to his "Golden Phoenix blessing," Auren had also developed a partial immunity to fire, able to walk through flames that would scorch others, though not yet fully impervious.
Though he was the youngest of the seven candidates standing on the stage for the Test of Fang, anyone with half a brain would realize that Auren was easily the most dangerous of them all. And sooner or later, the elves would learn just how terrifying this 'small' human truly was.
The moment the royal assembly had settled, Queen Elarya — ethereal and commanding on her elevated throne — raised her hand to begin the ceremony. The golden-haired host stepped forward, leaning on his wand, his cold demeanor shifting into an almost theatrical performance.
"Welcome, people of the Runewood, and most especially, honor to our Queen Mother Elarya." His voice echoed across the plaza, amplified by magic. "Tonight, we bear witness to our seven brave candidates entering the sacred Test of Fang. They seek the blessing of Ascension through their worthiness, as determined by the Queen herself. Let us offer our hands to the forest, and grant them our communal blessing."
Thousands of elves raised their hands simultaneously. A powerful gust of wind swept across the plaza as if the Runewood itself had answered their petition.
"With the Runewood's blessing upon us," the host continued, "let the partaking of the Sleeper's Vial commence."
Servants distributed small vials containing a yellowish liquid to each of the seven participants. The Sleeper's Vial would render them unconscious within the hour. Once asleep, they would be transported—without knowledge of where—to isolated sectors of the Runewood. Each candidate would face the deadly wilderness alone, tasked with hunting and slaying a Night Crawler to earn their Ascension. The rule of being drugged before placement ensured fairness, as no candidate would know their starting point.
Auren examined his vial closely, lifting it toward the light. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. His eyes narrowed.
This batch is too strong, he thought.
The other candidates had already begun drinking without hesitation. Michael, the Goldhair prodigy, sipped confidently, his thin sword gleaming behind him. The two Sylvan'thir candidates and the Velka'Dar children, including Jairah, all downed their doses without issue.
But Auren's advanced knowledge of alchemy told him something was very wrong.
This is at least five times stronger than standard. For an elf, it would induce sleep for three days minimum. For a human? It should outright kill me.
Fortunately, Auren's extensive field training with Robert had included poison resistance. He was confident he could purge the drug from his system when needed. Still, he chose not to expose that secret now.
"What are you waiting for? Drink it!" Rhiki, leader of the Velka'Dar, barked impatiently from his seat. His eyes glittered with malice, eager to see the human collapse.
"What's the rush, old man?" Auren shot back with a sly grin.
Rhiki bristled. "What did you just say?"
"Old. Man." Auren repeated with exaggerated slowness before tossing the contents of the vial down his throat.
Within seconds, his small body slumped forward, motionless. Gasps rippled across the crowd. Rhiki was already halfway out of his seat, ready to mock or punish him, but the sharp glare of the Goldhair guards and the Queen's raised eyebrow forced him to sit back down.
Robert and Marissa exhaled, shaking their heads.
"That boy," Robert whispered, "will be the death of me one day."
Ever since he was born, Auren had been a wild, unpredictable force of nature. A rare genius and ever curious about everything. From the mana in the air to the smallest rock. He makes sure to study them and learn their purposes.
Goldhair attendants moved swiftly, lifting the unconscious candidates and carrying them out of the central plaza toward the depths of the Runewood.
Tiny glowing creatures called Laytanaw — small gecko-like beings with fairy wings — fluttered after them. These creatures, bonded to Sylvan'thir Tamers, projected live visual feeds onto enormous floating water mirrors above the central fountain, allowing the entire Runewood to watch the trial unfold like an immersive survival spectacle.
The festival had begun. Elven families unpacked elaborate meals, wines, and desserts, settling in for the three-day live survival event that was equal parts rite of passage and reality show. Merchants shouted over one another, hawking roasted meat skewers, honeyed nuts, and Runewood ale as bets and predictions filled the air.
Meanwhile, Rhiki and Kardel exchanged glances, their wide grins filled with sinister intent. Though Auren had somehow survived the ambush an hour earlier, they both knew that three full days in the wild would be more than enough time to break him. The deadly terrain, the lurking predators, and the rigged obstacles they had carefully arranged would surely do the job for them.
"Three days," Rhiki whispered under his breath, his eyes gleaming. "Plenty of time to skin him alive and turn him into another warning for the rest of the humans."
Kardel chuckled darkly beside him, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "By the time this is over, the humans will finally understand their place."
As Auren was carried deeper into the woods, he noticed something unsettling. His carrier — a Goldhair elf — subtly slipped a small object into Auren's backpack before straightening up as if nothing happened. The movement was so brief, even the Laytanaw failed to catch it.
In his mind, a familiar voice echoed.
"Master, are you awake?" It was the voice of the Golden Phoenix — his companion and secret ally.
"What is it, Bigbird?" Auren answered mentally, feigning sleep. He had dubbed the ancient beast Bigbird after a large yellow muppet from his previous life.
"That elf just planted something inside your pack."
"I expected as much. Let him play his games," Auren replied calmly. "They've been plotting since before I was born. But don't worry. I'm always several moves ahead. They won't outmaneuver me that easily."
"Understood, Master. I will monitor and map our surroundings."
The Golden Phoenix's mental link offered Auren a tremendous advantage. While unconscious, its spiritual projection served as his second set of eyes, scanning the routes, counting landmarks, and memorizing paths — all crucial knowledge for surviving and escaping the forest once awake.
Auren's lips curved slightly, even in his forced slumber.
Let them think they've outwitted me. The more they underestimate me, the better.
He thought of Robert's words before they left:
"If they pull anything dirty, I'll make sure they pay."
Relax, Dad, Auren thought. This is my battlefield now.
The further they traveled into the dense forest, the thicker the mists grew. Luminescent mushrooms pulsed gently beneath massive roots while ghostly willow-like trees swayed, whispering secrets to the wind. Unseen creatures rustled in the underbrush, their glowing eyes darting among the shadows.
This place is beautiful, Auren admired inwardly, and deadly.
He wasn't afraid.
His true enemies weren't the monsters lurking in the forest. They were the scheming leaders seated comfortably back at Aetherthorn, pretending to uphold tradition while secretly attempting to eliminate him.
But they had made one fatal mistake.
They forgot who he truly was.
Auren's reincarnated soul pulsed with quiet resolve. He wasn't here merely to survive or prove himself to these elves. His destiny was far grander.
One day, this entire world would kneel before him and call him 'emperor.
This test? Just another warm-up.
It's showtime.