The reason Bell hadn't shot the widowmaker yet wasn't just because he wanted to preserve his limited supply of ammo. If he had the chance, he would've shot all twelve bullets already, burying them deep into the body of the Warden.
But that was the problem.
He didn't have the chance.
The Withered Warden, according to the novel, is completely immune to any damage except when its core turns silver.
And even then, the only place you could harm it was at the core, which was about the size of a fist; that doesn't sound that bad of a target to aim at, except once the distance Bell was keeping between him and the creature to protect his life, it was smaller than a pea.
So, although Bell recognized that the pause marked when the core would turn silver, he was taking his time, learning and trying to perfect the timing.
The timeframe he had to attack the core was no more than two seconds each time.
Ten minutes later.
"I think I got it down," he said as he paused. Raised his arm, looked through the iron sight, aimed it in one single motion and moment, then… click.
BANG!
The bullet traveled through the air, hitting the core right in the middle.
The Warden roared, "SKRRRRAAAUUUUUGH!"
The third arrow, always aimed at his center mass, never came.
'Here comes the second phase.'
From below, the ground began to quake as jagged roots exploded from beneath the surface, aiming to pierce and bind Bell.
'This is why I kept a distance.'
The roots had to travel from the main body, so the further the distance, the longer it took for them to reach Bell, who could hear them moving underground and was using the sound as a way to gauge when they'd pop out.
Weaving between the striking roots, Bell kept his body low while his mind was higher. He was timing everything out in his head while carefully observing the core to see when it would turn silver.
He didn't know the conditions. They were never mentioned in the novel, at least, not from what he could remember.
"This dance might take a while," he whispered.
And a while… it did.
'What are the conditions?'
The core had changed to silver thirteen times in the past twenty or so minutes he's been dodging these roots. His legs were starting to feel heavy and yet, he still didn't know what was causing the core to change.
Since he didn't know, he couldn't anticipate when it would do so, making the task of shooting it damn near impossible.
"Think. Think. Think. Think goddamn it!" he shouted as he dodged a root, nearly slipping in the process.
Using his increased processing and memorization skills he was handed when he entered Bell's body, he recalled all thirteen instances the core glowed silver, replaying the scenarios over and over in his head, all while actively trying to preserve his life.
"It isn't the timing. It isn't the interval between the roots. It's not proximity either… I've been both near and far. Attacks? No no. It's not how many attacks I've dodged… nor was it how close some of them were to hitting me. The root count itself doesn't seem to matter. Neither does that. Or this. It's not rhythm, reaction speed, or any kind of bloody choreography…"
Ducking low again, a root tore through the air above his back, catching a bit of his shirt.
His lungs were burning like paper tossed into a flame.
His knees were screaming as if they were old rusty hinges.
This trial was testing more than just his body — it was chewing through his focus, trying to blur his thoughts, suppress his will, and make him succumb to it.
It would've been easier if he had attempted the trial with a skill tree activated, but it would defeat the purpose of what he was trying to accomplish. He had to be Godless.
"Come on," he growled. "What triggers it? What could possibly be the—"
Then he froze mid-stride. Not physically, but mentally — like someone had slammed the brakes in his brain.
"Oh…"
Wait.
Narrowing his eyes, his mind replayed the fourth and ninth silver-glow sequences. It was the only times he had complete focus of his eyes on the Warden rather than having him be in his peripheral vision while focusing on dodging the roots.
And both times, the Warden had done something just before each of them.
A slight nod of his head.
A gesture that seems like it means nothing.
But considering that this creature was in pursuit of his life, a creation of a trial that was clearly linked to the Ancient Gods, it made no sense for it to nod uncharacteristically whilst in the midst of aiming to skewer Bell like a kebab.
"It's acknowledging me," Bell whispered.
He recalled what he was doing in the moment before the Warden nodded.
His actions didn't seem to be anything special as opposed to any other moments during this phase.
So why?
Why was the Warden acknowledging him then and not any other time?
What was different?
WHAT WAS DIFFERENT?
He pressed deeper into his memories, trying to recall every last detail, from the minor twitches on his face to the most useless thought he was having at that moment.
And like that… he found it.
"It wasn't my actions. It was my conviction," he muttered.
Forget just the fourth and ninth times, all thirteen times the core glowed silver, he wasn't just calculating and analyzing the Warden.
He was committed.
In the moment before the hideous grey tree would nod at him, he had decided in his mind — not hoped or theorized — but decided that he was going to shoot and that he would hit his target.
Even if he didn't pull the trigger due to the Warden's immunity, the strong will to act had been solidified.
That was the difference.
It wasn't reacting to his intelligence, his skills, or even caring about its own actions.
It was reacting to resolve.
"You nod when I mean it," he scoffed. "When I don't just observe the moment but am willing to claim it." Almost laughing, he muttered, "You're only vulnerable when you think I'm worthy. You're really full of yourself, you ugly plant."
BANG!
As the bullet made contact with the core, the Warden dropped down on its knees. All the roots vanished, and with its long arms, the Warden grabbed its head and let out a silent scream for what seemed like a solid ten seconds.
Then it looked back at Bell and tilted its monstrous head.
The void around Bell began to fracture, and shortly after, grass returned and the sky was blue.
The Withered Warden was no longer anywhere to be seen. Instead, flowers bloomed and birds sang. Bell could feel his soul calming down, his mind starting to drift to rest, and his body wanting to plop down on the grass.
Without hesitation, he aimed the windowmaker at his palm and shot it.
Clenching his teeth, he didn't let out a sound as he watched the illusion before him disappear and he was returned to the black void with the Warden rushing at him.
It had closed some distance in the time that Bell was inside the illusion.
He dodged the swing of the arm in the nick of time and immediately ran away from the tree.
'And after this… I'm left in the dark. The novel just skipped every other phase until the last one. I don't even know how many more phases there are.'
Seven hours passed.
Bell was still holding on. You would've thought that he had some sort of special ability that kept him going for this long, constantly moving, constantly dodging, analyzing, etc.
But no.
His body was as normal as his back on Earth.
All of this was solely through pure willpower.
His body was drenched in sweat, his eyes were burning from the lack of blinking, his joints were burning, and his mind was close to overloading.
Yet… and yet, he was still ready for what else was to come.
BANG!
As he shot his seventh bullet, marking the end of the seventh phase, he saw that the Warden core began to glow gold.
'The last phase.'
He began to fire his widowmaker. And again. And again. And again. Again. Again. Again.
The Withered Warden had collapsed to its knees and was using its arms to support itself from falling flat.
"You're still alive?" Bell asked as he tossed the gun down on the floor. He had emptied all the chambers and not a single bullet was left unused. All of them had struck their target.
Ignoring the ringing of his ears, he approached the Warden.
"You put up a good fight there," he said as he kicked the Warden in its chest. Its back hit the ground.
The golden core didn't dim. It was now free real estate. He could attack it as much as he wanted.
Kick by kick, punch by punch, Bell began to stack more and more damage. He ignored his skin ripping open. Blood dripped down from his knuckles and the sole of his feet.
And with one final punch, the creature stilled.
The core dimmed completely, then cracked. And like a sculpture made of ash, the rest of the tree also began to crack.
Bright light spilled from the fractures of the bark.
And finally, it crumbled.
Where it had once stood, or rather lay, there was a single piece of bark remaining. The same grey bark that the insignia was marked on.
Picking it up, it disappeared in his hand.
And replacing its existence was a mark on the left side of Bell's chest. A black symbol of a spade from a deck of cards with the number "1" inside the symbol.
'My first Archaic Code.'
And like that, he was back in the forest.
As he picked up the widowmaker from the grassy ground, he heard a whisper, old as roots and slow as rot:
"I anoint thee, the seventeenth challenger. Welcome to the Archaic Games, Bell Gideon Agnus. May luck be on your side."
Bell turned his head to where the tree had once been.
Then walked away.
He was tired.
It was dark.
He just wanted to take a bath, eat some food, and get some sleep.
Everything else could come later, tomorrow.
While he was making his way back, elsewhere in sixteen different locations of the world, sixteen people were all hearing the same message in their minds:
"The seventeenth challenger has arrived."
These sixteen all had their own reactions.
Some frowned. Some smiled. One of them yawned. A few of them acted like they didn't care.
However, one thing was common: all of their heart rates had increased, even if only by a few beats.
"Another bastard I have to seek and kill."