It had been an hour since all partakers of the Test of Fang had taken their vials. Within the towering marble pavilions of Aetherthorn, every spectator sat with bated breath around the vast, long-distance viewing circle. Dozens of translucent magical screens hovered in the air, each relaying the live feed from across the forest.
From these floating displays, they could clearly see how the Goldhair carriers had placed the participants deep within the heart of the Runewood—far from their native soil and anything familiar.
To understand the gravity of the event, one must know the scale of the Runewood.
It spanned a staggering one million square kilometers—roughly the size of Egypt, if one were to compare it to Earth. But unlike the sunbaked sands of the desert, Runewood was a sprawling megaforest—a mystical labyrinth of ancient trees older than kingdoms.
Filled with forgotten ruins swallowed by moss and time, and untamed biomes where the air itself seemed to whistle with secrets.
The forest was alive in every sense. Whispering winds carried echoes of ancient chants. The air hung heavy with the scent of wet bark, moss, and distant flowers. Shafts of light pierced through canopies the size of castles, dappling the forest floor in ethereal patterns. Bioluminescent vines curled lazily from massive trunks, some trees wide enough to house entire families inside their hollows.
Runewood wasn't just vast—it was sacred. Dangerous. And fiercely aware.
Despite its enormous size, the entire forest could detect and track any human intrusion. This was thanks to the Queen of the Elves herself, who shared a bond with the Mother Tree. Through this ancient connection, the forest communicated. Every leaf, every vine, every petal fed into her awareness. To trespass was to be seen.
Moreover, every colossal tree bore unique runic inscriptions—etched naturally into their bark as if carved by the forest's will. These glowing patterns weren't just decoration. They enabled the flora to absorb mana at extraordinary rates and served many purposes: energy storage, magical conduits, and perhaps most crucially—surveillance.
Through these ancient trees, the Queen saw all - except on a few exemptions on Primal Beasts that freely roams this land.
As the sleeping contenders arrived at their designated locations, their Goldhair escorts laid them gently on mossy beds of fern and leaf, then slipped into hiding. They would watch silently, unseen.
The Lantaws, small geckos with fairy wings are also considered as an elite forest watchers. They quitely positioned themselves high in the branches using their invisible camouflage. Their skin shimmered briefly before vanishing entirely, blending seamlessly with the forest.
Their eyes—large and moonlit—possessed powerful zooming capabilities. These were not just scouts, but extensions of the Aetherthorn master tamers, providing them with precise visual control over each participant.
One by one, the entire elven congregation observed as their chosen representatives were carefully placed in isolated glades. Some of the elves clasped their hands in prayer, whispering blessings to the wind and to the forest spirits for the safety of their kin.
Meanwhile, although the participants lay still under the effects of the Sleepers' Vial, anticipation built in another corner of the gathering. A rowdy energy stirred the nobles and warriors alike.
There were still thirty minutes left before the potion's influence would fade—but tradition held that the first one to awaken was considered to possess a powerful mind and constitution. And so, naturally...
The betting began.
"Alright!" a Goldhair elf stood from his carved crystalwood chair and raised his voice proudly. His long golden braids shimmered in the light, and his chest puffed with pride. "Who wants to wager who wakes up first? My bet's on the Goldhair, of course! Ten Redstar fruits for those bold enough to bite!"
"You sound too confident in your spoiled brats," a deep voice countered. A dark elf with midnight skin and sharp green eyes leaned forward with a grin. "Twenty Redstar Fruits for our Gondar, son of our great leader Rhiki. Who wants to bet?"
"Fifteen Blood Fairy wings!" another shouted. "I'm placing my wager on Anast'cia of the glorious Sylvan'thir Tribe!"
"I'll match that. But my coin is on Micha'el!"
"I'll up it! A single high-grade Minotaur Horn to match your fifteen wings!"
"I accept!"
"Any takers for a Flame Sunflower Pill?!"
Dozens joined in, the air thick with excitement and tribal pride. This wasn't just about gambling—it was about honor. It was a declaration of faith in their bloodlines.
And yet... not a single voice mentioned the human.
No one bet on the obvious loser in their eyes.
Except one.
Standing near the back, Robert's ears perked up at the mention of a "Grade 2 Flame Sunflower Pill."
As a seasoned potion crafter—though now semi-retired—he knew just how valuable that was. It was a rare pill that boosted flame elemental power by up to thirty percent and granted nearly two full levels of experience to its user. Back in human kingdom, cost of a single Grade 1 Flame Sunflower Pill can reach up to two thousand gold coins. But depending on the supply, sometimes it can skyrocket to five thousand.
He glanced at Marissa, his longtime friend and now unofficial wife, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Should we place a little bet on Auren?"
Marissa's glare could have shattered glass. "Shut your mouth, Robert. We don't need any more trouble."
"She's right," added Jei's quietly as she arrived, slipping into a seat beside Marissa. Her presence was calm but firm. "Many of my people already resent the human's presence in our sacred tradition. As your only neighbor, please stop inviting trouble, Robert."
"Besides," Marissa added, crossing her arms, "what exactly do you have to offer, gambler?"
Robert smirked and reached into his belt pouch. "These."
He revealed a glowing green vial. Inside, the liquid shimmered like captured emerald light. A faint mist curled from its lip. The potion had a small frame-tag tied with golden thread.
======================================
High Grade Healing PotionCrafted by: Robert
Potency: 65%
Applications:
Heals open wounds up to fifth degree
Recovers broken bones
Neutralizes poisons up to third rank
Increases stamina regeneration by 22%
======================================
"No," Marissa said flatly, not even glancing at it. "That's for Auren. In case of emergency. We agreed—your potions are too valuable to be paraded around."
And she wasn't wrong.
In the Aurellus Kingdom, such a potion could fetch up to 100 gold coins. A soldier's monthly salary barely reached 30 silver. And though Robert had once been wealthy, his love for gambling and risky investments had drained his fortune.
Not to mention, the rise of the Workers of Light had crushed his business. Why wait for a bitter-tasting potion to kick in when holy healers could restore you in seconds?
Still, this batch—this particular vial—was different. Crafted with the glowing mushrooms he'd discovered near their cottage, it boasted effects even Robert hadn't achieved before.
In fact, creating a healing potion is far easier said than done. Even the most skilled alchemists struggle with the process. The average success rate hovers around 25%, and even then, most results are of low-grade quality. The chance of brewing a medium-grade potion is a slim 3%, while the odds of creating a high-grade one drop to a staggering 1%. But what truly sets Robert's potion apart is its potency—an impressive 65%. That level of strength is enough to affect even those with hardened, battle-worn bodies where ordinary healing brews barely leave a mark.
For the elite warriors of Runewood—especially the revered Goldhairs and tribal leaders—this kind of potion is more than valuable. It's a game-changer. In their world, where magical beasts, poison-inflicted wounds, and near-death battles are everyday threats, a single high-grade potion can mean the difference between survival and demise. To them, this wasn't just a drink. It was a treasure. So it's no wonder that both elves and humans were practically foaming at the mouth over such a rare, coveted brew.
"You're right," he muttered, starting to tuck it away hoping that no one had noticed it.
But before he could completely hide it, a firm hand gripped his wrist.
"Wait. Let me see that."
The voice was low, but carried weight. Robert and Marissa turned—and immediately tensed.
"sh*t." Robert cant help but curse at his bad luck.
Rhiki.
The leader of the Velka'Dar tribe. Towering, cloaked in deep blue warrobes stitched with silver thread, his presence was enough to silence lesser elves with a glance.
His eyes were locked on the vial, pupils narrow, nostrils flared with interest.
Around them, whispers erupted like wildfire.
"T-that's a High Grade Healing Potion?"
"No way! A human made that?"
"Impossible. Our best Sylvan'thir alchemists barely reach Medium grade!"
"Hey! Human! Where did you steal that?!"
Suddenly, a crowd formed. Dozens of elves swarmed around Robert, eyes gleaming with suspicion and greed. This potion—this one vial—could change the fate of a tribe. Their numbers were already dwindling. Female elves birthed once every fifty years. A powerful healing potion could prevent deaths. Save lives.
The tone shifted from curiosity to demand.
"Answer me, thief!"
"You used our herbs—give it to us as tribute!"
"I'll pay one Blood Fairy wing! How many do you have?!"
One elf even tried to snatch it—but stopped short as Goldhair guards shimmered into view, stepping between Robert and the crowd with spears crossed.
"Silence," one of them intoned. "You are in the presence of the Queen."
The air turned still.
Every head turned as the Queen of the Elves stood from her elevated seat. Draped in a flowing gown woven from golden leaves and spider silk, her long silvery hair cascaded behind her like moonlight on water. With a raise of her hand, the green vial floated from Robert's hand and drifted into hers.
She examined it, then smiled. "A fine healing potion, Mr. Robert."
Robert bowed low, hand over heart. "It is my honor, Queen Mother."
A few elves hissed at the term. "Queen Mother" was a title reserved only for elves. But no one dared speak further—not under the gaze of the Goldhair guard.
"How many of these do you possess?" she asked gently, though all understood the intent behind the question.
Robert cleared his throat. "I managed to craft three. The ingredients are rare—some from the human kingdom."
The Queen waited.
Robert sighed. "And of course... one is a gift for you, my Queen."
"Thank you." She smiled, then turned to the crowd. "Let him keep the others for the human child. I will not allow anyone to coerce or disturb him. Is that understood?"
Silence.
The Queen didn't need the potion. Her healing powers surpassed it. But she desired it as a trophy—proof of a human's breakthrough in Runewood. More than that, it was a quiet act of protection. She knew how elves could be when their curiosity turned to hunger.
And just when the situation began to settle...
A shout pierced the stillness.
"Impossible! Look! He's waking up!"
Every head whipped toward the largest viewing screen.
Rhiki scoffed, already half-rising in triumph. "Of course. My child Gondar—truly the genius of Velka'Dar and champion—"
He froze mid-sentence.
His jaw slackened. His veins pulsed with disbelief.
The first to rise... was not an elf.
Rin—no, Auren—was stretching casually as if he'd simply woken from a pleasant nap. He cracked his neck, twisted his waist side to side, and yawned exaggeratedly.
On the screen, the six elven candidates still slept peacefully.
Meanwhile, Auren grinned toward the sky, raised a peace sign with two fingers, and muttered:
"Ohayō, baka-domoooo."
A few scholars elves blinked.
"…What did he say??"
"I don't know. Human language sound so stupid after all."
Some of them grumbled at the unexpected winner of the betting. After all, not a single soul had wagered on the human. Meanwhile, little did they know, Auren was lowkey mocking them.
It was Japanese for "Good morning, idiots."