Thud. THUM. Thud

Osric’s pupils, dilated to pinpricks in the ambient gloom, snapped open to the moon-drenched hollow of the log. His hands immediately clenched around his spear, knuckles turning bone-white in the pallid moonlight, a defensive reflex born from years of conflict. He bit down on his tongue, the sharp stinging surprise sending a jolt of pain, igniting his senses into full alertness.

Osric peeked outside the log; everything was quiet. Silence cloaked the night outside the hollowed-out log, the landscape bathed in deceptive tranquility under the watchful eye of the looming night sky.

In one fluid motion, Osric nudged Cain with the edge of his scarred boot, kicking him, “Wha-” calloused palm over Cain's mouth just as he was about to shatter the silence.

"We have company," he whispered, his breath gusting warm against Cain's ear. "But, by the coded message, it's something we can handle by ourselves."

Their moment of peace shattered when Hilda's panicked voice reached them from above. "Wake up! Everyone, wake up!" She kept her voice low, but the urgency thrummed through her words. She tried her best to wake up the group from their slumber.

“What’s the matter?” Disoriented but alert, Cain quickly rose to his feet, the vestiges of sleep flaking away as his boots hit the cold ground. He moved towards Hilda, anxiety etching lines onto his rugged face. "What's going on?"

The frantic rustling within the log stirred Glucia and Preston from their fitful sleep. Reading the tension in the air, they moved swiftly, silently packing their few belongings with practiced ease, their hands reaching for their weapons.

"We've been encircled," Hilda confessed.

"How many?" The question escaped Cain’s calm voice, even as his eyes darkened with apprehension.

"Eight, give or take, possibly more," Hilda estimated, her gaze darting, cutting through the darkness in an attempt to discern the enemy. “However, I can't make them out fully in the dark.”

“At us or around us?” Preston’s voice cut through the chilly silence

"Unmistakably, they're for us," Hilda confirmed, "They look like small bergelmirs from the vague outlines I could discern."

A tangible wave of tension drained from their bodies when they heard about their enemies.

“Then we have to fight them off,” Osric's voice rose.

Cain nodded, "Osric’s right. If they’re bergelmirs, we can take them.” his voice inspiring confidence “It’s nothing different. Instead of five of us against one big enemy. Now it’s five of us against smaller enemies.”

He turned towards Glucia, "Stay behind us. And the rest of you," his voice deepened, sweeping across the group, "if any of you are wounded, retreat into formation and provide support from the rear."

As they emerged from their fortress of fallen logs, they advanced into the battlefield, bathed in the melancholic glow of the moonlight.

The moon's silver rays washed over the white, petrified logs, lending an uncanny beauty to the impending battlefield. Their foes lurked in the shadows, their presence chilling the air, awaiting the clash of steel.

As the group ventured warily towards the encircling enemy, their hearts drummed a rhythm in their chests. Imposing figures loomed in the silvery moonlight, petrified beasts of the wilderness, loomed like grotesque sculptures, both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Osric tightened his grip on his spear, his mind focused on the impending battle. The moon's glow lent an otherworldly sheen to the creatures' frozen forms, amplifying their spectral aura.

Bergelmir they were; restless souls of departed animals that once roamed these very lands, now bound in an eternal purgatory within the Milling Fallen Logs. Legend whispered that their spirits were tethered to these logs, bound in spectral chains. However, after basking under countless cycles of the Bloodmoon, their chains grew rusted, thus, they were granted passage back into the world, but not as spirits but as petrified behemoths of their former selves. Whether these entities retained any semblance of their original consciousness or had become part of the Milling logs hivemind was a contentious debate among the many scholars in the villagers.

What was worrying was that, despite merely skimming the outskirts of the Milling logs, the group found themselves ensnared in an unexpected siege. Osric would only wonder about the horrors that might lurk deep within the heart of the area.

Although bergelmir were not very strong individually, they were a formidable force when they swarmed in packs. They were only fighting mortal animal souls and not something far more malevolent.

Although weaker, the people around him felt more tension. For all of them, this was their first encounter with the unnatural. Their prior skirmishes, though fraught with danger, were against creatures they understood; a boar, no matter how grotesquely oversized due to corruption, was still a boar. But what they were up against now was a mystery explained only in their notebooks, a faceless horror ripped straight from fireside tales. Witnessing these petrified beasts, foes only heard of, and the prospect of combatting them had increased their tension.

With the rest left to his companions, Osric charged towards the left side of the formation, his spear crying as he took a strike at one of the petrified beasts.

A monstrous toad, its body encased in stony armor, responded with a guttural croak, sensing Osric's proximity. Its eyes, vacant and devoid of life, fixed on him, braced for a confrontation. With calculated precision, Osric thrust his spear toward the amphibian's vulnerable underbelly, but it merely bounced off the stony exterior, leaving Osric momentarily startled. The previous weaknesses gone with the exoskeleton of solid stone,

Osric’s face moved in surprise.

In a swift retaliatory move, the toad lashed out with its monstrous tongue out, the muscular whip slicing through the air, intent on snaring Osric in its grasp. Relying on his honed reflexes, Osric executed a nimble vault, his body twisting in mid-air as he narrowly evaded the encroaching danger.

“This is a simple fight—slow body with predicted movements. It could not be easier. However, I still need to pretend that I am starting to learn how to fight him for the first time. My movements need to be rougher.”

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He was able to feel the fruits of his flexibility training. His body moving faster to his intentions.

Seizing the fleeting window of opportunity, Osric brandished his spear in a wide arc, the air whistling around its tip as it crashed against the toad's hind limb. Appearing slightly deferred, Osric pressed on, utilizing his faster agility and speed to outmaneuver the toad's powerful but sluggish retaliations.

Meanwhile, a massive lizard lunged at him, a ferocious growl ripping from its throat. Its talons, sharp, sliced through the air, hungry to rend his flesh. Osric danced around the lizard's frenzied onslaught, his skin intentionally collecting slight grazes from the proximity of his parries. With a swift and precise thrust, he managed to pierce the lizard's scaled hide, causing it to roar in pain.

“There's no mistaking it. We're being watched.” Osric’s gaze swiftly swept over the dense woodland embracing the battlefield. “Every enemy we've faced has been within our capabilities. No matter what route we have taken, we have been extremely lucky. Our paths have been suspiciously devoid of hurdles. Someone, or something, is meticulously controlling our encounters.”

His attention returned to the battle, scanning his comrades, each embroiled in their respective battles.

Cain moved with finesse as he held his own against a pair of petrified bergelmir wolves. Glucia, ill-suited for melee combat, improvised with what she had. She rummaged through her bag, lobbing concoctions that made the bergelmir mongoose changed hues in response, its skin mottling in varying shades of grey. Hilda engaged a serpent and a stone-clad hedgehog, her rapier carving out significant damage on their hardened exteriors. And Preston, with a single-minded intent, traded blows with a hulking, petrified spider.

"The group is not just any wannabe rookies. We have a lot of high-profile names here," Osric processed, his focus oscillating between his internal thoughts and his ongoing battle with the stony toad. Each strike of his spear reverberated through the creature’s form, rewarded with satisfying crunches and the toad’s outraged croaks.

“Cain and Hilda, elder children. Glucia, the daughter of someone from the council. I presume Preston isn't a commoner either if he knows Cain. And though my background is less distinguished, I am still a former council kid.” He delivered a flurry of decisive strikes against the petrified lizard, causing it to falter. “Unlike other groups, it’s an unnerving amount of liability for first-timers exploring on our own. Unless they've stationed someone to shadow us. So someone is probably watching over us to make sure we don’t get heavily hurt."

The toad and the lizard bergelmir eventually shattered under his strikes, eventually crumbling into a mound of powdery white rubble, leaving behind only a vibrant yellow core that could be used for alchemy.

Everyone finished their battles.

Cain, surveying their circumstances, proposed a change in plans. “We've already been targeted. Any attempt at rest will be short-lived. We need to keep on moving otherwise-

“We’ll get encircled again.” Glucia finished his sentence

Cain nodded, “Next time, we will face a bigger group. We got lucky we caught them early this time.”

“Seems like a good idea.” Hilda agreed, “Although individually not a threat, eventually we will get worn down, and our fatigue and injuries will pile up. Leaving us vulnerable.”

“That is why I suggest we keep on walking. We are going to have to fight anyways” Cain’s gaze shifted upwards to the quietly observing moon. “The bergelmir are known to be inactive during sunlight. With it being summer, we'll see the dawn in just a few hours. So let's charge ahead and catch some rest when the morning comes."

He paused, meeting the gazes of his slightly winded comrades. "Sound like a plan?" he sought their agreement.

They collectively nodded.

"Since we've blown our cover, we might as well light the way," Glucia chimed in.

They scoured the forest floor, searching for dried branches. They salvaged whatever twigs and wooden detritus they could find since they could not burn the petrified wood.

Preston busied himself with bundling the gathered sticks into a sizable torch.

Off to the side, Cain struggled with the primitive task of starting a fire by friction, his hands rigorously manipulating the sticks in an endeavor to coax out sparks. "Life would be a breeze if I was an emberkin! ," he grumbled. "No need for this work. A simple thought, and POOF! Fire at my fingertips."

"Keep dreaming, Cain," Hilda retorted with a smirk. "Getting all the ingredients, brewing the potion, and undergoing the advancement ritual to become an emberkin is no easy fit. Gio simply makes it sound and appear effortless."

Osric picked up on the intimacy in her voice when she spoke of Gio. “You seem to know a lot about that,” he observed. “You guys close?”

Caught off guard, Hilda looked at Osric, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "How did you guess?"

Osric shrugged, "Educated guess."

"Seems like your intuition is quite sharp," Hilda conceded with a hint of admiration in her voice. "Yes, we are quite close. He’s always been like a big brother to me. Showing me the ropes and training me when he’s free. So I’ve seen what it takes to advance to Rank 1. It is a lot of work. Even when he had the support of his uncle by his side.”"

"Uncle?" Osric teased,.

Hilda corrected herself with a sheepish smile, "I meant the village chief."

“Personally,” Preston spoke, tying the bundle of sticks using a rope to make it stay together. “I like Lionel more. We talked a bit, and seemed like a nice guy.”

“Really? He’s got such a cold attitude.” Hilda responded, “Always brooding. I don't know how Gio and he are best friends.”

“Ahhh, that’s what he does so people don't bother him. He’s really sweet once you get to him.” Preston defended, “ Another bonus. Those gauntlets of his make for a pretty wicked weapon! He let me wear them, you know,” his eyes sparkling

“Of course,” The group collectively rolled their eyes in amused disbelief.

"Those guys are a generation ahead of us," Osric reminded the group, pulling their attention back to reality. "Our focus should be on the people we'll face in the tournament. That means Mitrus," he said, locking eyes with each of them.

"Or, as some like to call him, 'the next Gio.'" Glucia added in

A shared silence fell upon the group. Despite their reluctance to admit it, Mitrus's grade-A aptitude and the village chief's endorsement had indeed instilled a sense of apprehension within them about the tournament.

"I wonder how much refining he's accomplished," Hilda asked aloud. "With his capabilities and the support he has...I reckon he's done with the general refining?"

"If he hasn't already hit the halfway mark, I'd be surprised," Preston chimed in. "If he is refining blood first, he might even be pushing 80% when the tournament comes around. Or at least, I'd hope so."

"And let's not forget, the other villages also have their own grade-A talents. Our competition extends beyond just Mitrus." Osric added sagely, his eyes tracking Cain's struggle with the fire sticks.

The shared silence returned, broken only by the low crackling of the firesticks.

The first wisp of smoke began to curl upwards, soon igniting into a timid flame. "Finally," Cain sighed in relief, transferring the nascent fire to the bundle of sticks. "Our focus should be on our performance. The tournament is important, yes. But it’s not everything. We have our whole lives." he said, raising the group's morale.

Nods of understanding and smiles soon returned to their faces.

“These young blood have spirit, but they lack tenacity," Osric reflected inwardly. "They've been sheltered, not introduced to the harsh environment earlier. Only now are they truly experiencing the wild, despite living on its threshold their whole lives. Even now, their foray into the wild remains under supervision. True growth demands danger. Potential blossoms amid bloodshed. They are denied these trials, hence, they will not know true growth."

His gaze seemed to unfurl into the distance, lost in a thicket of contemplative thoughts.

"Their unease about the tournament doesn't stem from the fear of facing defeat, nor the grim prospect of death, but rather the dread of failing those they hold in high regard. They speak of honor and competition, but I perceive only protection and veneer of frailty. That is because that is all I have known. I wonder…Would I have been like them had I been born here?" he pondered, contemplating. The reliving of his youth brought out interesting questions he had never thought of before.

Hoisting the now brightly flaming torch, Cain showered their vicinity in a warm, inviting light that easily outshone the moon's pale glow.

"Let's move," he declared