Sometime after his eighteenth birthday, Elron was sparring with Chron inside the training room. Just as he was about to be thrown into a wall, time stopped. His mind slipped into darkness, and his vision loaded into a dungeon lit by torches.

He felt strange, as if his limbs were no longer part of his body. Now that he thought of it, he had no recollection of being able to see his torso or face. It was if he had a blank in his memory. The only thing he knew for certain was that he had to walk down a corridor and enter a room. There, he found a wide range of weapons on a table and a straw dummy in the corner.

It was clear, especially from other recorded ascension trials, that all one had to do was perform a simple feat and they snapped back to reality with a new class and abilities. In his case, he just needed to pick up his weapon of choice and swing it at the dummy. Slight things, such as which weapon he chose and how he approached the dummy, would change the class outcome slightly, but for him, it would be a combat class nonetheless.

The thing was, when he chose a bastard sword and swung it at the dummy, the trial did not end. He stood there, whacked the dummy a few more times, and questioned himself.

‘Why am I not waking up?’

A hidden door in the room opened up briefly afterwards, and he felt prompted to walk down the newly revealed corridor, which led to a similar room. The main difference in this room was that, instead of a table of weapons, there was just a brazier.

The flames within the brazier danced and waved around, almost as if they were trying to communicate with him. He felt something there, almost as if the flames were telling him to touch it. That was crazy, though, he knew that.

There was something he was supposed to do, and for a while, he just stood there with one hand holding a sword and the other holding his chin. Eventually, it came to him, and he placed his hand over the fire.

“Flare!” he called.

And just like that, the flame from the brazier split, a small tendril of fire writhing into the palm of his hand. The rest was instinctual; he hurled the flame at the practice dummy and then drove his sword through its center. But as he completed the move, his vision blurred, and reality snapped back to something far grimmer—a harsh impact with the cold, unforgiving stone wall. Surreal or not, the pain was very real.

He finished recounting his ascension trial, letting out a weary sigh. “Life back then was almost nothing but pain.”

Sylra looked down at her boots, sensing his hardship, and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

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Elron sprang back to life with a smile, trying to shake off the moment. “Don’t be, I’m happy with the result,” he replied, though the awkwardness of the lie hung in the air.

There was a brief pause before he asked, “Was your trial similar?”

She shrugged, glancing away. “Sort of. The setting was in a kitchen, and all I had to do was pick up a dagger and climb onto the roof. From there, it ended.”

“A bit less dramatic, but that’s to be expected from most first classes,” he stated, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, brushing it off. “Well, let’s get moving. I do not want to be stuck out here in the dark.”

The two navigated the dense forest. With Sylra’s stealth skills and their keen senses combined, they ensured they didn’t lose their way. It took days, each filled with careful steps, frequent breaks, and several returns to town for supplies. Although at last, they came upon what seemed to be the kobolds’ hideout—a narrow, shadowed entrance carved into the side of a rocky hill, hidden by thick underbrush.

Elron exchanged a glance with Sylra, his grip tightening on his sword. “Looks like we found it,” he whispered.

Sylra pointed near the cave-like dugout and whispered, “There are traps everywhere, and we can’t fit in there.”

“There might be another way in,” Elron suggested, his voice low. “We could wait and ambush them too?”

Sylra winced at the idea, her instincts telling her something was off. “Uh, we should leave. This whole area doesn’t feel right,” she murmured, unease creeping into her tone.

Just as the two were about to retreat, several dog-like heads popped up out of the bushes all around them. The kobolds barked at one another, closing in with a circle of stone spears. It was now a dire situation, and Elron and Sylra found themselves back to back, blades drawn.

“Thoughts?” Elron asked, conjuring a flare in his hand, his eyes scanning their encirclement.

Sylra spun her dagger around, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. “Maybe kill 'em all?!” she suggested with a panicked grin.

Elron sidestepped a spear thrust and responded, “On it,” as he decapitated a kobold, sending its head flying.

From there, the scene unfolded into a chaotic frenzy as the two elves recklessly swung their blades at half a dozen bipedal dog-people. The area soon filled with barks and yelling as they fought for their lives. Outside of the initial encirclement, the kobolds didn’t seem to have a sound plan—at least, none that was apparent. Sylra dodged and weaved between them, landing fatal blows wherever she could. Meanwhile, Elron kept the rest at bay, swinging his fiery sword in wide arcs to hold them back.

For better or for worse, the encounter ended as soon as it started. Their enemies fled shortly after the third death.

Sylra pulled her blade from a kobold’s neck and wrinkled her nose. “Pew, they take wet dog smell to a whole other level,” she remarked with a grimace.

Elron, still on alert, and asked, “I guess you have no issue with killing kobolds then?” as he stood back to back with her once again.

“Never liked dogs, was always more of a cat lady,” she said, bumping into him.

Elron nodded. “You watch, I’ll gather their ears,” he said, looking down at the grisly mess on the forest floor.