The red moon glowed brightly in the dark sky, its mere presence making it something both beautiful and daunting.
Faust and Arien had finally finished rebuilding the camp and setting traps over the course of a week. It had taken far less time with two people, especially since they just made simple traps.
The camp itself was small, used mainly to hide from creatures or to set traps and kill them. Speaking of creatures, they hadn't fought any Slashers or Armorers during this time. Whenever one came close, they simply hid.
Something curious Faust had noticed was that there seemed to be more Slashers wandering around now. Previously, he had been following just one for a while, but now he'd seen over three different ones, each varying in height and size.
This intrigued him, but it also made him wary. It meant something was changing—but he had no knowledge of what. That was a dire situation for him, he didn't knew what was going to be the next trial and now didn't even know why this trial was changing.
Arien and Faust interacted few times. He had tried to shut himself off from the interaction, but couldn't quite manage it. They spoke occasionally—Arien often speaking in long sentences, while Faust would respond with simple phrases or words. Strangely, she didn't seem to mind at all and just kept talking.
Compared to the bloodlust in her eyes during their first trial together, she was now far calmer, friendly almost.
They sparred once or twice, which turned out to be a good form of training. It had been Arien's idea, Faust initially refused but eventually gave in, curious to test her strength. Her style was completely different from his.
While Faust focused on runes and only had one reliable sword technique—Slash—Arien emphasized speed and had a wide array of dagger techniques. Both of them could use mana; she had one circle, while he was two circled. Faust wasn't thrilled to discover this… though for a petty reason. Although he knew of his lack of talents, he still thought he was somewhat ahead of his age in terms of mana. But according to Arien, it wasn't uncommon for people of their age to know how to use mana, especially in the capital and other great cities.
While they talked, although she seemed to be an adventurer, which was confirmed by her showing a bronze symbol with a V engraved on it, her knowledge seemed too lackluster, even worse than Jig's, the slave that died in the third trial. It could be considered to be even worser than Faust at some points.
Faust couldn't bring himself to trust her. She was suspicious, on the very least. She refused to speak of her past, never mentioned the coming trials, and stayed silent about the other participants. Every evasion deepened his suspicion.
Since they didn't feel sleepiness, they had no reason to rest before going out to hunt the Slashers. Their camp was surrounded by dozens of traps—most consisting of pits lined with sharpened wooden spears made from fallen branches of the colossal trees, or simple holes designed to trip the creatures.
After checking all the traps, they decided to begin their hunt, one Slasher each. They agreed to team up for now. Faust accepted because it was useful; Arien, for a different reason—though he didn't know what.
"Remember, we each fight our own. If one of us needs help, we'll step in… but no interference otherwise," Faust said, though his intention to help was questionable.
"Alright. Just don't take too long compared to me."
"…Also, remember, head back to the camp. It'll be easier since we have traps set there."
"I know, I know. You've already said that a million times. Don't be boring, I'm not stupid," she replied.
Faust wasn't entirely convinced of that last part.
They turned in opposite directions and rushed into the forest.
It didn't take long for Faust to find his Slasher—less than ten minutes. He tailed it quietly. It was quite big, around two meters, maybe smaller.
He caught its attention and led it back toward the camp. The ugly creature followed, its mantis-like head bobbing rhythmically, scythes gleaming in the scarlet moonlight.
Their speed was evenly matched, so as long as Faust didn't slow down, the Slasher couldn't catch him. He also had the advantage in the forest; the creature's size made maneuvering between the massive trees quite difficult.
Faust had once tried to use the terrain to his advantage—but the Slasher had sliced deep into a tree trunk with a single blow. No more than three hits and those colossal trees would fall. Their blades were absurdly sharp. Faust knew that if even one got a good hit on him, he'd be sliced in half.
Yet, honestly? The feeling wasn't bad. He was starting to enjoy the sensation of fighting, of being on the edge.
When he arrived at the camp, the Slasher wasn't far behind. Arien hadn't returned yet—Faust was the first.
He drew his sword and readied himself. He wouldn't use runes for this fight. He didn't want to reveal his main strength in front of others—not yet. His trust toward Arien had improved only slightly, but not enough, and he didn't plan to take it further.
Faust turned to face the Slasher as it charged, slashing with its right blade. He jumped back, barely evading.
It immediately followed with a left-blade attack. Faust dodged with a roll, the air whistling where the scythe-arm passed. The creature stomped its four slender legs furiously into the ground, unleashing another flurry of attacks with it's blades.
He dodged the first, the second, barely the third—but the fourth clipped his side, and the next struck harder. He focused entirely on evasion, eyes locked onto every motion, but the onslaught was relentless.
His black scales armor spared him fatal wounds, but each hit shook his bones and organs. Then, as the creature advanced, its leg plunged into a hidden pit, throwing it off balance.
Faust didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, leapt, and slashed. The creature blocked with a scythe-arm—so Faust grabbed the scales on its chest and drove his sword into the joint of its left blade-arm. Even dull, the blade caused damage, gravity doing the rest.
The arm hung by a thin piece of dark chitin, but the Slasher surged out of the hole and slammed into him. Faust barely got his sword up in time, but the impact sent him crashing into a tree, blood staining his teeth.
He forced himself back as the creature pursued, black blood dripping from its nearly severed limb.
Nearby, Arien darted past the trees toward camp, another Slasher following her. She focused, engaging her own fight.
Faust grinned through the pain and fired three mana spikes at his foe's head. It raised its right blade to block—opening its wounded side. He lunged, his sword flashing down in a vertical motion, and the monster's left arm fell to the ground.
The Slasher shrieked, a sound like screeching metal, a completely chaotic sound. It vibrated in Faust's skull, blood trickling from his ears. Arien stumbled, nearly struck by her opponent, but she dodged in time.
He had no time to recover either. The creature charged again, a blur of rage and shadows. Faust dodged, letting it pass, waiting for another chance.
Then, Its leg sank into another pit, and Faust struck, hacking at its remaining functional blade-arm. The creature deflected, but he pressed, firing mana spikes to keep it unbalanced.
Thirty percent of his mana gone.
The Slasher clambered free, but Faust was already moving, sliding beneath its guard to slice through a front leg. The creature staggered, and he mounted its back, driving his sword toward its last weapon, the right scythe.
Then—it leapt.
Faust hadn't expected that. He fell from its back and hit the ground hard, sword falling away from his hands. The Slasher barreled toward him, but he rolled, crushed a sacred stone in his palm, and charged bare-handed.
It swung. He ducked under, snatched his sword once more, and fired two mana bullets point-blank into its face. Stunned, the Slasher couldn't stop his next strike—a brutal cut that nearly severed its last arm.
In a last fit of desperation, the Slasher swung its nearly severed arm, striking Faust's sword.
The blade was thrown away, but Faust didn't care, his heart was pumping. As the creature lunged, he leapt straight at it, grappling the mangled right scythe-joint. Stomping on its torso, he hung horizontally mid-air, pulling the scythe with everything he had.
His muscles were being thorn as blood flowed free from his mouth.
Then, a loud and crunchy sound was heard. Faust ripped free the monster's blade.
The Slasher staggered, barely being able to stand.
Faust didn't stop. He gripped the fallen scythe-blade and drove it down through the monster's skull, through it's flesh and carapace, using all the strength he had until it hit the floor. The force pinned the twitching creature to the ground as a pool of dark, viscous fluid spread beneath it.
Faust collapsed to the ground, gasping. His fingers found another sacred stone crushing it without hesitation even as he scrambled toward his fallen sword. The blade's cold metal barely grazed his fingertips when the fog came. It swallowed him whole, his glistening red eyes and bloodied beast-like grin the last things visible before vanishing—fifth trial completed.