No blood flows from the Hellgars. That is the truth that Rozzante tells without a speck of shame. He is proud of how he crushed their necks just right along their spine, causing the head to be more or less detached from the rest.
“Not one bit of blood.” William ackonwes that, crouching beside the Hellgars, and watching them with a stoic expression. “I can see that is worth the celebration. Maybe I've made a mistake, considering how much blood I wasted from the Swifter. Apologies, Rozzante.”
Those monsters before his eyes are some of the most prominent killing machines that are in his memory, yet they are dead. Killed by not his hands, but it doesn't matter. They are high in numbers and kill more civilians than any other Dark around the borders of the USA and Canada. He knows their reputation from many speculations, and readings from the camps. If anything, the public has to know the dangers, and William got to know them too.
“Not a big deal. We learn. Improve.”
“Agreed. Let's see how much blood Hellgar gives.” William says, retrieving the syringe out of the Extractor and stabbing it through the tough sections of the Hellgar's neck. It goes harder than he expects. It isn't the practice he likes or prefers, but Agatha explained to them the general means to secure their blood.
The neck is the best place in any extraction unless the Dark is of weird form and appearance. And there are a whole lot of them without necks and even weirder ones. Worms, snakey, and who knows what else, the abundance of mess they can have is varied to no end. William knows a lot of them by now but hasn't seen them all with his eyes. His learning in the library provided its worth, but actually seeing them in reality is different.
When he looks at this Hellgar lying dead on the floor, William can only think of an animal. A dead one. But it isn't that. He knows it isn't, and he should slaughter them all like his Emblem wants.
“What a freaking monstrosity... It is dead, yet still tough.” he slaps its head, looking at this monster and how blood slowly rises from the syringe to the Extractor, fuddling some fumes, making some noise, and creating heat. He rather ignores that, as Hellgar is full of memories from his childhood. This mess of a monster is a neverending disaster for the common folks, and he saw how many slaughtered their way into many homes. They are killing machines, able to tear heads off from bodies and eat a person whole. It is a Rank 1. The weakest in the rankings, yet they are still monstrosities that can slaughter anyone, Walkers included.
“How did you manage to snap their neck anyway? You made it look so quick and smooth. You barely touched them,” William asks Rozzante, who stands beside him, nudging his arms behind his head in an attempt to stretch. Any activation of his Emblem is a tough time, and it hurts to no end. His Mutant type is special like any, and it restrains his body a lot more than he likes. It is a temporary issue, however. Following the System what any Walker has is up to his task, and upgrading his Emblem will give him countless quality of life, or even power advantages.
“Well...” He shrugs his arms and crouches down beside him. “Quite simply actually. I pulled off any restraints in any way since I can't go easy on anyone yet. It is a Skill named Force Field that cycles through my Emblem and manifests through my palms. I can't truly mold it up like Vectors, but it is an energy I can touch, create, and move. Making a mush out of their spine and necks is no problem. I fear no Rank 2 could survive it either. Causing their brain to shut off, like for any living being is lethal. Our necks would trouble us too, you see? Weakness.” Rozzante explains his attack, tapping his neck to acknowledge the basic drawbacks of anatomy. Brain, and head. Those are among the most prominent features that any Dark has.
Rozzante and his tactics sound simple at first but are anything but that.
The speed, decisiveness, and reflexes he has to move at the same time aren't straightforward. It was his all-out attack, effort and first time he actually went his far to attack two Darks at the same time. If he can use his power and control it successfully, it will be powerful without any doubts. Force Field is also one of his most powerful skills at the moment, but not the first, last, or the strongest.
Soon enough, the pair of boys watch blood extraction finish the 1st Hellgar, leaving it parched like a dozen-year-old corpse. So they move the syringe to the other, which amounts to half of the 1st Vial being full.
“That's quite a lot from those two Hellgars. I wonder why.” William makes an observation after calculating the differences. 1 Hellgar is worth at least 2 Swifters, but that may be because he wasted some blood. Though, he just shattered the head, so should it make such a difference? That isn't something that Agatha explained to them, so he could only make some assumptions.
“Could be because of the mass?” Rozzante makes his guess, but neither of them even knows how exactly this Extractor works. “Or the waste, as I said. I have heard plenty about Darks and their blood from many walkers in my life. That may be why.”
William doesn't take his answers as a rule, although one thing is clearer. Blood of the Darks is a prominent topic among the Walkers, and he heard some mention of it even in the Outside. But it was never genuine, sounding more like rumors, and whispers among the Outsiders who weren't so lucky to know much of Walker's world.
Rozzante knows more about this, but whatever it is that Academy is trying from this Extractor, it works on a new principle he doesn't know.
The only thing they know is that their blood is special like the Emblem is for the Walkers. That is the fact that all people know. Darks love the blood. Even their own.
Seeing their success, William retrieves the Extractor before returning to the journey through the northern section of this city. The grind is before them, killing, and hunting the Dark is their task. The blood of each other is everyone's price, and the game of hunters is night.
It sounds like an easy mission when they think of the half-done Vial, but finishing up all 10 of them is quite an ordeal.
Unknown to all teams, the usual isn't always 10. It's more of a question of how many Darks can they find, and hunt down in the limited portion of the city.. After all, this whole Trial isn't artificial, but a certain portion of encounters are intentionally achieved according to the Academy's intentions. They want to see their potential, and how else they could see it then in an actual encounter against the Darks.
Of course, some encounters are less obvious, while others are as random as they can get. Darks hunt willingly, and Walkers of such freshness are their feast.
Like the first attack of Swifter against William, who honestly didn't expect an ambush out of nowhere. Even Rozzante didn't notice it since Swifter did not attack him but had chosen William, causing him not to notice its presence sooner.
With the first couple of hours passing by, the fights, attacks, defenses, and duels are taking place at east, north, south, or west.
The biggest battlefield is the East, where Louise and Stark already made a mess of a couple of dozen Hellgars and other Darks. It amounts to a huge accomplishment, but that goes without question.
Those two are special cases even for the Academy standards, while they are fully expected to succeed anyway. The Academy spares no effort but to go all out against their premise. This means nothing more than directing more Darks against these kids, who know much more than their peers.
Alas, it's not the first, nor last place to be like this. In fact, all 4 sections of the city appear to be quite a battlefield, leading to Agatha's endless troubles and silence.
At the moment, she, along with Tiberon are on top of a large half-cut skyscraper, observing the city. There is a butler standing behind her, noting the messages he should tell. Agatha listens in silence, knowing that the latest report after the 4th hour passed, exceeds common expectations.
“What!” she shouts.
“It's true though.” The butler says calmly.
“Are... Is...” Agatha is momentarily unable to voice her thoughts from her mouth and turns to face the man. The butler is an older gentleman, wearing a suit. His hands are behind his back, and he hunches with his head down.
“I thought not so much... At first. It is abnormal. Darks are, similar to those youths. Some are wild, others scared like a cat meeting a tiger. It isn't fitting as far as I am concerned. The team in the North is that. Rather laid back because of it. That's quite sad, but as I see it, the Academy may've already planned to accept them all anyway, so...”
“Shut up with that... Od Mike.” Agatha walks to him, agitated for some reason. “I heard what you said twice, and the Academy decides everything behind our backs. We are simple takes of their actions. THEY decide. Not us. Our feedback is just a nudge. A poke to their readings.”
Mike creeps his head down, as if bowing, but his face is placid and indifferent. It doesn't concern him what the Academy thinks or not. He is too old to give a shit. “Can I leave?”
If anything, Agatha is his boss, so that is... something he has to ask.
“Keep up with the north. Don't take up any risks, and... keep observing. If no touch is working, then... It will wait for later.” she says and turns back to Tiberon, who sits lazily on a sofa, using his palms as pillows. Old Mike walks behind, walling off the edge, disarranging into a mist, or mist disappears into him. It is hard to say what happens first, but nothing hits the ground. Mist just flows out, disappearing into the distance.
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“What the frick is up with this batch?” Agatha says, biting her nails in return, and has all itches to kick Toberon from her sofa. She is flustered to no end, and quite open with her emotions when Old Mike is gone. “I get that the cases with Louise and little Takker are normal, but others too? Hell, the West is even dominated by a single girl? What are we supposed to do with Sharie? And what that bloody Gale, hm? Speak!” she kicks the sofa, glaring at Tiberon who keeps his mouth shut. Nothing ever goes well when trying to appease an angry lady. He understands it after more than 50 years.
“What do you mean?” Tiberon says, dodging a kick to his face by getting up and holding her feet. “You act as if you don't know anything. I already viewed the 2nd Trial myself, but you haven't been there. I figured much in there.”
“I've read that...” Aghata cracks her fists, letting spars, and something like thunderbolts cracks between her fingers. Tiberon let her feet go. “You've been there yourself, while the rest watched the screen. You pushed only Kiryu and William above the usual notch. Not the rest. Why?”
“Well... It is so-called rules that I ha..” A kick stops behind his head an inch away. “I could take a hit anyway, just so you know. You don't have to force yourself on this sofa. They don't make them this way nowadays.” he argues, pointing to the pile of filth that is the sofa. It is hardly that. It is just residues of polished wood that are full of cracks, while the cushion is no longer soft, or even clear. It is more of a wood that remains firm after more than a century. It is enough for a sitting, but not for a nap.
“Shut up.” Agatha grunts, and sits beside him, crossing her legs and touching his face. She isn't so soft to make him blush. She grabs him like an apple, ready to crush him or bite him. “Oh, I know you are playing with so many people, Tiberon. You do it all the time. Same with those youths. Rules mean shit to you, and who knows what have you left out of your report. Should I speak to the Principal, hm?”
Her words seem to work more than they should, and Tiberon shudders and escapes with his head. Scratching his cheek, he laughs it off. “You know a lot yourself, but not enough. I feel the right potential from those worthy. It goes by my Title, you see?”
“I know... but what about the rest?”
“Rest? Sharie is probably the least impressive out of them, but her courage, and heart is strong enough to follow this Trial to the end. Even if Celleste is brute forcing her way out of this city, the mere motion of going past my Trial should be sufficient from the Judging Department to decide who, and who isn't worthy. All 8 are, but it depends on how large the next Class will be. Or... how many teachers are even willing to take the current batch? I suggest all of them, but who knows? I doubt anyone will take that crimson-fella William. He is too hazardous.”
“Hazardous huh?” Agatha sights. “Where else to work with him though?”
“If only we had The Inmovable Mountain back, right?”
This time, Agatha laughed this off, and couldn't help but agree with him. “Anyway, Celleste is also variable. Figuring out Rank 2 in less than an hour is good, but she already found Rank 3 hideout and even killed one. Senses... or not, we have no readings of her System or the Emblem. I know they aren't that overpowering from Rank 1s, but she did so quickly.”
“I think you are worrying too much for nothing. Have you forgotten so many cases of talent? They are getting faster in each passing generation.” Tiberon says meaningfully.
“Yet the number keeps on dwindling,” she argues back, making Tiberon frown in return.
This little conversation holds little value for anyone but them. They all know the general ways the higher stage of Walkers works, while this little play of beginners amounts to nothing but the steps of babies.
However, even the first steps of babies are very important in the eyes of others. They could be more than glad to walk and run too.
***
At the moment, William is glancing at the watch that he keeps in his pocket. He sees how the 4th hour passes, and he is getting frustrated because of the unease of his companion. He hadn't done much in the past hours, apart from fighting a few additional Swifters, while Rozzante took care of 1 single Rank 1 Behemoth, appearing like a large, clumsy stamp of flesh, filled with tendrils. Mass is their key weapon since they are up to 15 feet tall but move like a snail. There were also some additional Hellgars, which went to Rozzante as well.
Overall, they are unlucky and haven't hunted a large number of Darks. This ends up angering Rozzante to no end. This isn't because of choices. They want to fight, hunt, and kill, filling the quota of Vials that doesn't go that great. So far, they are making an unconscious decision to take turns fighting. Unlike the rest of the teams, apart from Stark and Louise who takes their turns, and teamplay seriously, their time is worse.
They aren't too happy, even though William has filled the 2nd Vials already. They are finally making their way into the 3rd. But... It isn't much, considering the 8 of the remaining ones. They are 1\5th way done with the Trial, which means many more hours in this place. They both know they can go faster, but so far, finding Darks has been disastrous, to say the least.
The lack of fights and hunts is something to take into consideration. It can be a lack of luck, or they haven't got into the right territories, since Rozzante says they shouldn't enter those Dark Fog-infested places. William agrees with him on this, yet they haven't got a chance to meet any Rank 2 Darks.
Both of them don't know that they are in their proximity but with the sheer size of the city, they can't see or sense them well to hunt them down. But it should've been the case for both sides. It should be the rule, and many Darks know about them for sure. And not so little. They just don't attack for some reason, causing Rozzante's disappointment.
It's not like the Academy can force the monsters upon the students, using them like unleashing a bunch of wild dogs. Well, they certainly could do that, and they do try that, but Darks will never listen to Walkers. No matter the Rank, even if it means death and suffering, they desire to hunt them down. But occasionally, there are strange things in the world of Walkers. Some, that would make things more or less heated, or weird.
Unless one wreaks havoc, or quickly follows up with quick research out of their own stubbornness, fighting tough opponents is better done slowly. That isn't the case for Trials of the Academy. This is a brutal time when high-rank Walkers want to see the potential of new recruits. The blood shall be shed, pain should be smeared into their heads, and while the youths are at it, it is a perfect time to experiment with new types of Extractors.
William and Rozzante are unlucky ones and have the lowest amount of Vials out of 4 teams.
Unsurprisingly enough, the leading position is Stark and Lousie, but that's because both work together and carry on their hunt like proper Walkers, after knowing that nothing too dangerous is in this city. Not for them, at least.
The second place is Sharie and Celleste, albeit Celleste does everything alone, leaving Sharie to work with Extractor or be long-range support, and observer. It isn't a terrible position to be in, and a lot of Walker teams have various members who do things they are good at. Although Sharie isn't that, Celleste butchers every Dark and gives her no opportunities.
Neither of the teams knows the situation of the others. They all focus on the tasks at hand, and hunting and getting to know this city seems about right.
This is their entrance to the Academy, and everyone seems to come to that conclusion. Well, some more than others, but it still counts even in various conditions that are and will be happening in this Trial.
True mess is yet to start, after all.
In the west, Sharie is already used to handling the Extractor, while Celleste paces back and forth around the Hellgar that is no longer in two pieces, letting blood run everywhere. It is a fine accomplishment that Sharie made her realize in the first hour.
“Do you even know how hard it is to hold back from cutting through these monsters? Their hide and scales are tough, and piercing their head requires so much care. Truly, cutting them to pieces is more right.” Celleste argues behind Sharie, who is glad she isn't ignoring her completely, but she wishes the circumstances would be different.
After all, the difference in strength between them is so humongous, that it causes Sharie to feel somewhat awkward and humiliated. What does she make of this? Considering the course of the 1st Trial and the 2nd, she almost feels unworthy to even continue forward.
Yet, she still continues, because that's what she really wants to do. Morality can screw itself, and even if she won't do anything, it will still count as if she indeed did something. Her consciousness won't be clean, but she doesn't care. Hell, she may feel quite bad about this, but who is to judge the reason for that? Even when she asks Celleste to let her do something, she always retorts, saying that it's not needed. Something about efficiency or whatnot. This girl really is cut from a different tree, it seems to her.
Even now, she waits for the flow of blood from not her successful hunt. Watching the full 5th Vial doesn't make her any happier than Celleste, who doesn't like waiting around and doing nothing. She would rather go from nest to nest, fight, and slaughter those monsters that haunted her since childhood. It doesn't matter to her that they look different. She will slaughter and cut them anyway.
“These wolves are indeed lacking in blood, don't they?” Cellesre ponders, poking the Hellgar's eyeballs, which is turning to dust.
“Those are called Hellgars.”
“Hell.. Like actual Hell?” Celleste frowns and pauses. “Wait... you aren't kidding?”
“... I have no idea who named them,” Sharie says helplessly.
Celleste scoffs at Hellgar some more and is ready to roll through another street.
Like this, the many cases of strength, awkwardness but otherwise rather successful order of the Trial comes to pleasing hunts for almost all teams.
Most of them fight the Darks for the first time, and they learn their abilities, weaknesses, or advantages without a shred of hesitation. Most end up in quick slaughter, but that goes without any surprises, considering no Dark Tide or Horde is fit for this sort of Trial. No team is yet to fight more than 3 Darks at once.
Trial goes to such heights, that Agatha even considers some indirect force to let Rank 3 Darks to the streets, but higher-ups refused that long ago. The Trial has its order, so it is quickly deemed inappropriate.
There are still some jumps in the power between low-rank Darks. It's usually the intricacies of their attacks that change, rather than their appearance, or range of uniqueness. The overall defenses of Rank 1 and 3 remain the same in most of them, all the way to Rank 4. Though, some of them can have tougher defenses, while others may have everything, and others may have only something.
There are so many variables, that this city can't have them all. Only a fraction of the overall variety can be in this single location, and Rank 2s aren't that surprising to be dealt with by fresh Walkers. This is especially the case for special Walkers. They are all talents of talent, and in one way or another, some folks from the Academy find them stronger than many previous batches.
However, that is subject to many thoughts, and opinions, since Walkers are weirdos. And the Academy is full of Walkers. No one could come to rightful conclusions about them. Not even Tiberon, or Agatha.
The day slowly crawls above this section of the world, letting the sun disappear, and night becomes the king. Who knows if these youths are even aware of the difference in time zones, but they don't care about the sun or the night. But they should, and many are.
Everyone notices the change of the day, while the night is known to be the place where Darks become more active. Dark Fog will linger unnoticeably, shrouding the ground, sky, or any cranny in the city. Most wouldn't notice it, and traps and mistakes can become very dangerous.
The next part of the 3rd Trial is different from the start. Humans in nature aren't nocturnal beings, but the same can't be said about the Darks.
Those monsters will fight with further vigor at night, painting the soil in blood, quenching their jaw with satisfying pours of feasts.
Williams lingers around the north streets and notices the change of the night under his Velvet Eyes. They are more than enough for the night to have no effects on him, which is a neat benefit he hasn't expected. When he thinks about it, he never used Velvet Eyes in the dark. A noticeable sheen of red is much more dominant in his eyes, making his eyes glow in the dark. In his vision, word seems more redder than dark, but it is better than seeing without it.
It's rather cloudy, which causes the moon not to glow even a little bit.