Luke froze mid-step.
The forest had gone quiet.
Not just the quiet of distant threats or shifting winds, but a dead silence—unnatural and absolute. Even the soft rustle of leaves had vanished. A stillness that screamed louder than any growl.
He didn't wait to confirm it.
His body shot forward, legs pumping as he wove through the dense undergrowth, cloak snapping behind him like a shadow. Branches clawed at his arms. Thorns nicked his boots. But he didn't stop. His instincts were too sharp for hesitation.
The first wolf lunged from the left.
Its form blurred from the underbrush—a flash of fur and teeth. Luke pivoted low, slicing up in a tight arc. His blade sang through the air and caught the beast mid-pounce, carving it in two before its momentum even reached him.
Blood sprayed. He kept moving.
Another leapt ahead—slightly larger, eyes glowing faintly with mana-streaks under its fur. It barreled straight toward him, fangs wide.
This one was faster.
He ducked under its lunge and drove his blade clean through its underside as it soared overhead, twisting to throw its corpse off as it crumpled behind him. No time to assess. No time to think.
That was two.
Then he saw it.
He skidded to a halt beneath the roots of a massive fallen tree. Ahead—shapes. Dozens. Eyes gleamed in the shadows. Furred bodies shifted like ghosts among the trees, their outlines becoming clearer as they stepped forward with deliberate menace.
He was surrounded.
Wolves—more than a dozen. Silent, circling, coordinated. Not like wild animals, but soldiers waiting for a signal.
He exhaled.
Of course. That howl wasn't fear. It was a warning.
And they'd answered.
His grip on his blade tightened. He stepped back slowly, boots sliding slightly on damp soil, angling his body so no wolf was directly behind him.
They moved with him—carefully. Synchronized.
Then they charged.
The clearing exploded into chaos. Fur and fangs rushed in from every side. Luke parried the first strike, ducked the second, rolled under a third. He countered with a sweep of steel, cleaving through one attacker's legs and throwing another back with a booted kick to the jaw.
But the pressure was real.
These weren't beasts acting alone. They fought like a unit—timing their strikes, feinting to draw his attention, and then punishing the gaps.
His coat tore across the sleeve where a wolf nearly bit down. Another grazed his thigh with its claws, drawing blood. He grimaced but kept his footing, forcing a surge of mana through his body to steady himself.
He couldn't keep this up.
And then—it came.
The Alpha.
The air shifted before it appeared. A ripple, a distortion. Then the wolf stepped out from the dark—massive, easily twice the size of the others. Its fur was black shot with silver veins of pulsing energy, and its eyes… they weren't bestial.
They were intelligent.
The regular wolves stilled the moment it appeared. They fell back, circling like sentries rather than attackers. The Alpha didn't roar. It didn't howl.
It just moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Luke barely raised his sword before the Alpha was on him, fangs clashing against metal with a sound like stone cracking. The impact knocked him back, boots dragging twin lines into the soil. He countered with a stab, but the beast ducked low and lunged again, jaws snapping toward his ribs.
He twisted aside, but was not able to fully, as a wolf lunged at him, he thrusted his sword piercing through the beast skull, but not before the alpha's teeth raked across his side, tearing through his coat and biting into skin.
Pain flared.
He gritted his teeth and slashed again, this time catching the Alpha's shoulder. Blood sprayed, but the creature didn't flinch, has it howled towards the other wolves has It leapt back, circling, as the others moved in once more.
They attacked together.
The next few minutes blurred into motion—steel flashing, claws tearing, breath coming in sharp bursts. Luke fought with cold precision, every move practiced, every breath calculated. His coat was in tatters. Blood trickled from cuts on his arms and ribs. But he held.
Then, an opening.
The Alpha lunged high. Luke ducked low, drawing mana into his legs, and surged forward with explosive force. He drove his blade upward, straight through the beast's chest.
It howled—this time in pain.
The other wolves hesitated.
Luke didn't.
With a final push, he tore his sword free and slashed across in a wide arc, catching two more wolves that lunged instinctively to protect their leader. The Alpha staggered back, blood pouring from its side. It tried to leap again.
Too late.
Luke stepped into its blind spot and delivered the final blow—straight through its neck.
The massive body collapsed with a thud, twitching once, then still.
Silence returned.
Again.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
A few of the surviving wolves backed away, snarling low. One growled a warning, but didn't approach. Their Alpha was dead. Their morale broken. One by one, they turned and fled into the woods, leaving only blood and corpses behind.
Luke stood there for a long moment, sword still raised, breath ragged.
Then he dropped to one knee.
His side burned. The gash was deep but not life-threatening. Still, movement would be harder now. He tore a strip of cloth from his ruined coat, his heart aching has he was forced to ruin the uniform he was just given but he had no choice, he bound it around the wound tightly before forcing himself upright.
He needed to move.
The cave.
He retraced his steps through the forest—more slowly this time, blade still in hand, senses sharp. But nothing followed him. Whatever predators had been watching… they weren't interested in challenging him now.
Eventually, he reached the jagged cliff face, ducked through the narrow entrance, and collapsed against the cave wall.
His breaths came deep and controlled. His muscles ached. Blood soaked the makeshift bandage. But he was alive.
And victorious.
He set his blade beside him and leaned back, eyes flicking upward.
Then he frowned.
No notification.
No sound. No system message. Not even a single point update.
"…Nothing?" he muttered aloud.
He replayed the moment the Alpha died. The moment the others fell. The moment the last wolf fled. There should've been something. A rank increase. A ping. A number. Anything.
But the system had stayed silent.
That's when it hit him.
They're hiding it.
It made sense. If candidates knew exactly how many points they had, they'd plan around it. They'd play safe once they reached the threshold. But this…
This forced them to hunt.
Forced them to keep killing.
And if you think you're behind… you'll take bigger risks, he thought grimly. Even kill other candidates.
His eyes drifted toward the cave's low ceiling. The glow of moss offered a faint green hue, barely enough to see by.
He stood and walked slowly to the mouth of the cave, eyes scanning the treeline. The forest had quieted again—natural this time. The kind of silence that followed blood.
He sat down, back to the stone, and summoned the rules mentally, an ability he previously discovered he could do. The text appeared before him in golden lines.
> Rule 5: Each kill grants points. These points will determine your ranking at the end of Phase One.
His gaze lingered on the line. The word kill echoed, he was confident that the wording of those sentences were deliberate.
Not beasts, he thought.
Just kills.
His hand clenched.
The implication sat like ice in his gut,
They are encouraging us to kill ourselves
And while he didn't like to admit it, they did a great thing by not showing the point, it would cause doubt to appear in the mind of everyone about whether they had enough points.
He let the rules fade from view and laid back on the cool stone floor. The cave was narrow, but it was secure. For now, that was enough.
Sleep tugged at his limbs. He let it.
Because tomorrow, the real hunt might begin.