"Only five contenders have managed to reach the last Trial," Grakkor rumbled. "So far, they all showed their talent as hunters and wisdom as leaders. These are essential qualities for a warchief to have. And yet, they are not enough."

A low hum of agreement met his words.

"As we've seen when fighting the abominations, there are times when plans and strategies have to be put aside. Times when only one thing counts. Strength."

Roars of approval followed. Grakkor knew his audience and how to play it. Leonard would have to remember to get his counsel for future speeches.

"Individual strength. Collective strength. This last Trial will test how great the prospective leaders will make the tribes!" The old warchief stretched his arms, "Here, now, we will see who's worthy!"

Thousands of orcs watched from the towering wooden tribunes, eyes locked on the center where Grakkor and Nemas stood. The atmosphere was electric, buzzing. Leonard could feel it in the air, humming against his skin.

He glanced to his side, where his two teammates were finishing their preparations. Neer's expression was calm but intense. She'd been quiet since she'd been released from her imprisonment, and Leonard could tell she was deep in thought, processing everything that had happened, but he trusted she’d pull her weight. As for Oliver, he was visibly nervous and fidgeting, but the determination in his eyes reminded Leonard why he'd chosen the boy for this mission. He had potential—a lot of it. Few teenagers could boast of being a Journeyman, much less an Expert.

Even one liable to knock himself out by channeling too much power.

Grakkor stepped back, and the crowd fell silent as Nemas glided forward. Leonard straightened. His fae friend—as much as the alien creatures could have friends— was an influential figure revered by all the creatures that called these woods home. It wouldn’t do to appear uninterested when she spoke. These people might not have paparazzi, but word of mouth worked just as well.

As she moved to the center of the arena, the crowd erupted into wild applause, their excitement filling the air in a deafening wave. Even Leonard, who had known the dryad was revered, felt surprised by the reception. She commanded respect with ease, her very presence radiating ancient power.

A natural politician. Well, I feel better about my choice to make her governor, and at the same time, I’m slightly worried.

Nemas raised her hand, and the cheers died down, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Her emerald hair shimmered in the light, her dark eyes sharp and knowing as they scanned the crowd. "This final Trial," she began, facing the participants, "will not only test your strength. It will test your wisdom, courage, resilience, and will. These are the pillars of orcish culture, the foundation upon which true leadership stands."

As she spoke, Leonard felt the ground shift beneath his feet. Nemas raised her hands, and the arena responded to her magic. The earth trembled, reshaping itself in a display of power that left no doubt of her masterful command over the forces of nature. Leonard watched as the clearing was divided into five distinct territories.

To the north, a jagged spire rose from the ground. To the east, a dense, misty thicket materialized. The southern part of the arena became a maze of thorny underbrush. A shimmering pool appeared to the west, glowing faintly. At the center, a tall stone column stood in the middle of a clearing, etched with a humanoid figure holding a crown.

At the heart of each territory stood a totem. Leonard observed them with his mystical sight and was unsurprised to find that they weren't just mundane objects—a bear totem in the mountain, its sheer bulk exuding raw power; an owl in the forest, its gaze sharp and calculating; a lion in the maze, roaring with untamed bravery; a turtle by the water, solid and enduring. But it was the mighty griffin in the center that drew Leonard's attention. Its wings were spread wide as if preparing to soar, and it represented the very thing Leonard had been striving for since arriving in the Darkwood: the right to lead.

Nemas lowered her hands, her magic retreating from the transformed arena like an undertow. "Each totem grants a boon to those who claim it," she explained, scrutinizing the contestants. "Strength, wisdom, courage, resilience, and finally, the griffin’s leadership.”

Leonard could feel Neer tense beside him, eyes locked on the center totem. He spared a glance at Oliver, who seemed wide-eyed but focused, his gaze flicking from the totems to the other contestants.

Before anyone could move, Grakkor's voice rang out once more. "Take your places! The Trial begins when the sun reaches its peak. You will have until sundown to claim the totems and defend them. If more than one team still stands by then, the elders will deliberate depending on the performance.”

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Leonard crafted a [Veil of Silence] out of habit. "We go for the griffin totem first. They haven't said it explicitly, but it's unlikely they'll declare a winner that hasn’t taken it. It will also put a target on us, but we already were one."

Neer nodded determinedly while Oliver swallowed but gave a firm nod of his own. Leonard knew the boy was nervous after the mess he had made but trusted him to pull through when it counted.

The sun climbed higher in the sky. A low horn sounded, echoing across the clearing. It was the signal—the Trial had begun.

As they moved toward the center, Leonard kept his eyes on the other contestants. Hussa and her team were heading for the mountain, even as she kept leering with savage intent. She caught Neer's gaze one last time and grinned as she disappeared behind a newly formed hill, but Neer didn't take the bait.

Leonard unsheathed his sword, a simple iron blade enchanted for durability. It wasn't Dyeus, the holy blade he usually carried into battle, because this Trial demanded an even playing field. No one could claim an advantage based on personal equipment or powerful artifacts, and while he could still have grabbed a better weapon, he didn’t need it.

No one will be able to dispute my victory.

He glanced at Neer and Oliver. "Be prepared for anything," he ordered firmly. "I'll keep an eye on our surroundings. I want you both to focus on following my orders. We're the smallest team here, but that doesn't matter. As long as our hearts stay true, we'll win."

Neer gave him a grim nod. Oliver finally stopped fidgeting and exhaled. Once he opened his eyes, Leonard could see his worries being put aside. His squire was ready.

"I trust both of you," Leonard added, softening his tone. "We are at the last stretch. Let's win this and return to the army with a thousand orc warriors at our side."

As they got closer to the carved griffin at the center of the arena, Leonard felt its power stir in the air. The totem began to glow with a bright, golden light, its power extending toward the three of them. Leonard paused for a moment, feeling the magic unsuccessfully tug at him—its effects were subtle but potent. A slight boost in strength, heightened awareness, and a cool clarity in his thoughts. He could feel its intent, but his natural magical defenses were too strong. The magic was there, waiting for permission with a refinement that exceeded a mortal's ability to induce. And yet, despite Nemas' skill, it couldn't affect him without his consent.

"Neer," he said, "remind me to look into this spell after the Trial. It could be useful for the army commanders if it's not too complicated."

Neer nodded, chuckling lightly under her breath at the thought of teaching fae magic to human soldiers, appreciating the momentary levity before the fight. "I'll make sure to remind you, sir. We can't allow those slackers to rest too long, or they might go soft."

Leonard grinned and allowed the spell to take hold, feeling the magic integrate smoothly with his natural senses. The clarity was barely noticeable, with how far above its level he was, but the increased awareness was useful. He scanned the terrain with greater ease, thinking through their next moves.

The changes to the arena made it impossible to see where the other teams were. Only the bleachers, standing above the tree line, were visible, but they were too far to be useful as a point of reference. But Leonard had chosen the center precisely because it would mean the others would do the walking for him.

His expectations didn't take long to be confirmed.

"Incoming," Leonard warned quietly. He gestured to the south, where he could sense that a group of four orcs was approaching. They weren't visible yet, hidden by the trees Nemas had created, but it only took a minute of waiting before they emerged. Their leader, a tall, wiry orc with a curved blade, led the charge. Leonard recognized him from the campaign against the Void—a fierce fighter and a capable tactician. Ulmar, if he wasn’t wrong.

"They took the courage totem," Leonard said, eyes narrowing as he cast his senses further, not needing to scry, thanks to the boost. "It's likely they're immune to fear and have offensive boosts. And they've left a few behind to guard their totem."

The orc leader caught sight of Leonard and raised a hand in greeting, his tusks flashing in a grin. "Leonard of the Otherworld," he called, his voice carrying across the field. "Will you surrender now and save us all the trouble?"

Leonard's lips twitched into a small smile. He greeted the orc with a respectful nod before replying, "I wouldn't dishonor you by surrendering without a fight, Ulmar."

The orc laughed, a deep, booming sound that seemed to echo with genuine amusement. "Then let's see what you've got, human."

The four orcs spread out with excellent coordination, each warrior taking up a different angle as they prepared to engage. Leonard's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. He glanced at Neer and Oliver, a silent signal passing between them—no lethal blow if it wasn't strictly necessary, but no holding back. The orcs were tough enough to take all the two could throw at them.

And then the battle began.

Leonard moved to meet Ulmar, remembering how dangerous he was with his unconventional weapons and leaving his companions to deal with the rest. He caught the first of the blades as it arched for his neck and, with a push that took the orc by surprise, entered his space, forcing him to abort the second strike.

Neer quickly intercepted two of the others before they could interfere. She roared her challenge, earning twin replies in turn, and swung her cleaver wildly, setting up a tempo that forced the orcs to concentrate solely on her.

Oliver seemed over his hangups because he called upon the Light as easily as breathing. It covered his form, settling into a holy armor, which easily withstood the first hammer blow of his opponent and allowed him to injure the orc with a speedy thrust.

While technically outnumbered and with a less experienced team, Leonard did not doubt the fight's outcome.

He noticed a small opening in the orc leader's stance as he deflected another blow and immediately exploited it, slicing through Ulmar's right sword with an application of Light upon his weapon. The charred half fell to the ground.

To his credit, the orc didn't falter and let the useless hilt drop, trying to make some distance to avoid being skewered, but Leonard could already feel others approach and didn't intend on leaving himself open to ambushes.

"Sorry about this," He said, earning a confused grunt.

With a burst of speed that surpassed anything he had shown so far, he punched Ulmar's head, putting his full weight into the blow. The poor orc didn't even have the time to understand what had happened. His unconscious body rolled to a stop against a tree.

Turning around, he prepared to end the other fights, "Alright, let's deal with these guys-"

The words died in his throat as he beheld Neer holding two limp warriors, a grin of satisfaction for a job well done finally bringing some life to her expression, while Oliver dismissed his armor, one foot over the back of his opponent.