The campfire crackled softly, its light casting faint, flickering shadows over the group of Rangers. The boy, Kael, was curled up near the edge of the fire, his breathing steady as he slept. His face was still, a stark contrast to the chaotic day that had brought him here. The rest of the Rangers, however, were anything but calm.
They stood a short distance from the fire, their hushed voices carrying a mixture of anger and disbelief as they spoke to Thorne. Tarl, the senior among them, crossed his arms and stepped forward, his expression hard.
“Captain, this isn’t how things are done,” Tarl said, his voice quiet but firm. “You know every Ranger chooses their apprentice from within the guild. It’s how it’s always been. This… this boy, this thief, doesn’t belong with us.”
Thorne didn’t respond immediately, his sharp eyes fixed on the fire as he listened to the mounting frustrations of his squad.
Mara, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, took a step closer. “Tradition exists for a reason. It’s not just about rules; it’s about maintaining what makes the Rangers strong. We’ve trained our whole lives to be here, and you’ve bypassed all of that for him?” She gestured toward Kael’s sleeping form, her tone incredulous.
Tarl added, his voice rising slightly, “What about us, Captain? Are we not good enough for you? We’ve got the skills, the discipline, the motivation. We’re the best squad the Rangers have. So why didn’t you choose one of us?”
The tension in the air thickened, the other Rangers murmuring their agreement.
Finally, Thorne sighed, turning to face them fully. His expression was calm but somber, his voice steady as he spoke. “You’re right. You are the best. And that’s exactly why I didn’t choose any of you.”
The group froze, their expressions shifting from anger to confusion.
Thorne continued, his tone softer but no less resolute. “I wasn’t looking for what makes a great Ranger. You all embody that already. You’re disciplined, skilled, and driven. You’ve earned every bit of respect and pride I have in this squad. But that’s not what I was looking for in an apprentice.”
Mara frowned, her voice quiet but sharp. “Then what were you looking for?”
Thorne glanced at Kael, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something you can’t teach. Something none of you would ever want.”
He turned back to his squad, his voice gaining strength. “I was looking for an inner fire. A hunger. That boy? He has it. He’s not just fighting to survive or to do his duty—he’s chasing the thrill. He doesn’t just accept challenges; he seeks them out, risks his life for them. He lives for the hunt, for the feeling of facing something that might kill him. It’s a drive that burns so brightly it’s almost self-destructive.”
The group fell silent, their expressions conflicted.
Thorne’s gaze hardened. “And that’s why he’s different from all of you. Yes, you would all die for a just cause, for the guild, for the kingdom. But you don’t live for it. You don’t crave the challenge, the danger, the impossible like he does. That’s how I live. And that’s how my apprentice must live. It’s not about being a Ranger—it’s about being something more.”
Tarl’s voice was quieter now, laced with uncertainty. “Something more?”
Thorne nodded, his expression darkening. “This boy won’t be trained like a normal apprentice. I’m not shaping him to replace me or to be a typical Ranger. I’m building a legend. He’ll never have a normal life. He won’t find peace or settle down with a family. His life will be one of constant struggle, constant challenge, because that’s the only life that will give him meaning. And I couldn’t do that to any of you.”
Mara shifted uncomfortably. “And what about him? What if he doesn’t want that?”
Thorne’s jaw tightened. “He doesn’t know it yet, but this is who he is. He’ll grow into it—or he’ll burn out trying. But it’s better than suffocating in mediocrity, trapped in a life that will never fulfill him.”
The Rangers exchanged uneasy glances, their anger giving way to a mix of confusion and resignation.
Thorne’s voice softened, taking on a tone they had never heard from him before. “That’s why I’m asking you to help me. Not to coddle him, not to train him to be one of us, but to teach him everything you know. Every skill, every lesson, every bit of wisdom you can give him. Help me bear the burden of turning his life into something extraordinary—and something terrible.”
The group remained silent, their gazes shifting to Kael’s sleeping form. The boy’s face was peaceful, but the weight of Thorne’s words made them wonder what kind of future their captain had just set in motion.
Finally, Tarl spoke, his voice quiet. “You said you were building a legend. What kind of legend?”
Thorne’s eyes lingered on Kael, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “The Arandúval Tirrion. The Hunter’s Shadow.”
Thorne’s eyes lingered on Kael his sharp gaze switching over to the group, the firelight reflecting a flicker of something both determined and distant. He exhaled slowly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper but no less resolute.
“I’m not just taking on an apprentice,” he said, his tone carrying an unshakable weight. “I intend to forge the Arandúval Tirrion—the Hunter’s Shadow, the Eternal Tracker, the Relentless Pursuer.”
The words fell heavily into the night, and the reaction was immediate.
Mara’s face twisted in disbelief. “The Arandúval Tirrion? Are you mad? The trials for that are impossible. Nobody’s ever done it because it can’t be done. No mortal could ever hope to succeed. That’s why it’s nothing more than legend.”
Tarl stepped forward, his voice laced with outrage. “You’d send this boy to his death for a myth? This isn’t just dangerous—it’s cruelty. You can’t seriously believe it’s even feasible!”
The other Rangers murmured their agreement, their discomfort shifting toward outright disapproval.
Thorne smiled faintly, but it wasn’t an expression of amusement. It was pity, a quiet acknowledgment of their inability to see what he saw. He glanced at the sleeping Kael, his face softening slightly before turning back to the group.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Thorne said. “And it’s why none of you could ever be my apprentice. You see the impossible and walk away. Someone like me? Someone like him? We see the impossible and run toward it. Because we have to. Because the challenge is too great to pass up, the risk too enticing to ignore.”
The Rangers fell silent, their anger dimming but not entirely abating.
Thorne’s expression grew somber, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “I’ve spent too long in this position, carrying this responsibility. I missed my chance to take the trials myself, and now the fire’s faded. I’ve lost that insatiable urge to chase something impossible. But this boy still has it. He’s the only one I’ve seen who can take that path, who will take it because he’s driven by the same relentless fire I once had.”
He stepped closer to his squad, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. “That’s why I’m asking you to help me. I can’t do this alone. If we don’t give him every skill, every ounce of strength and knowledge we have, he’ll fail. But if we do…” He trailed off, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.
For a long moment, the clearing was silent. The fire crackled softly, and the shadows danced across their faces. The Rangers exchanged uncertain glances, their expressions a mix of fear, doubt, and something harder to define.
Finally, Mara stepped forward, placing a hand on Thorne’s shoulder. Her voice was quiet but firm. “If this is what you’ve decided, Captain, then I’ll help. I’ll help bear the burden of creating a Ranger meant for death—to help make the Arandúval Tirrion.”
One by one, the others followed her lead, nodding their agreement despite the unease in their eyes. Tarl was the last, his jaw tight as he finally stepped forward and placed a hand on Thorne’s other shoulder. “If we’re doing this,” he said gruffly, “we’re doing it together.”
Thorne nodded, the faintest hint of relief crossing his face. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
A pact was formed that night, unspoken but understood. They would push the boy to limits no one else had dared to imagine, driving him beyond what even they thought possible. Together, they would forge a mortal into something that defied mortality itself. They would create the Arandúval Tirrion—a legend, an immortal force born from relentless pursuit and impossible trials.
And as they looked at the sleeping boy, they couldn’t help but wonder what kind of hell they would have to unleash to make it so.
image [https://i.vgy.me/Y6xnIp.png]
The soft orange light of dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon when Kael’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned, his muscles stiff and his mind still foggy from the previous day’s events. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, the campfire now a smoldering pile of embers nearby.
As he sat up, Kael was startled to see that the camp was already bustling with activity. The other Rangers were up and moving, some practicing drills with their swords, others firing arrows at makeshift targets, and a few running through an intense sparring session. The camp itself was nearly packed up, with only a few belongings scattered about.
Kael rubbed the sleep from his eyes, still groggy, when Thorne’s voice cut through the camp like a whip.
“Well, well, look who finally decided to wake up!” Thorne called, his tone mockingly loud. “The layabout graces us with his presence!”
Kael sighed, his annoyance tempered by lingering confusion about why this man wanted him as an apprentice. He stretched his sore limbs and stood, brushing the dirt off his clothes before glancing at Thorne. “Alright,” he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. “What’s the plan from here on out?”
Thorne grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The plan, boy? The plan is simple: your training begins. Today.”
Kael frowned. “What does that mean?”
Thorne stepped closer, crossing his arms as he rattled off a list that made Kael’s stomach sink.
“First, you’ll start with a five-mile run to warm up. Then, calisthenics—push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, and squats. After that, you’ll practice swinging a sword until your arms fall off, shoot a bow until your fingers bleed, and learn the basics of riding a horse without falling off. Then we’ll move on to memory drills, perception games, and puzzle-solving. After that, more physical conditioning—maybe some bouldering if we pass the right terrain. We’ll end the day with more sword practice and sparring.”
Thorne paused, rubbing his chin as if considering. “Oh, and you’ll be carrying your pack the whole time. Can’t forget that. Adds character.”
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Kael’s jaw dropped. “That’s… impossible,” he said, incredulous.
Thorne frowned, his expression hardening. “Impossible? Maybe I misunderstood you, boy. Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought. I thought you said you liked challenges. But maybe you’re just another street rat who talks big and folds when things get tough.”
Kael knew exactly what Thorne was doing. The words were meant to get under his skin, to provoke him, and they worked. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides.
“Fine,” Kael snapped. “I’ll do it.”
Thorne smirked. “That’s the spirit. Let’s get to it, then. Rangers, you know your parts. Take him through the routine.”
The other Rangers exchanged amused glances before stepping forward, each taking responsibility for a different part of Kael’s grueling day.
The sun climbed higher in the sky as Kael ran, pushed, climbed, and fought through every task thrown his way. The Rangers were relentless, their instructions sharp and unyielding. They corrected him when he faltered, barked orders when he hesitated, and gave him no quarter when he looked ready to collapse.
He ran until his legs burned, swung a sword until his arms felt like lead, and tried—unsuccessfully—to keep a bow steady enough to hit a target. The horse riding was the worst. By the time the afternoon arrived, Kael was battered, bruised, and drenched in sweat, but he didn’t stop.
By nightfall, as the group continued moving toward their mountain fortress, Kael could barely stand. His hands were raw from gripping weapons, his knees scraped from falling during drills, and his stomach ached from hunger. Finally, as the stars glittered above, Kael collapsed onto the ground, unable to take another step.
Thorne laughed heartily at the sight, standing over Kael’s exhausted form. “Well, Rangers,” he said, turning to the group, “what’s the verdict? How’d he do?”
Mara crouched nearby, brushing dirt off her hands. “He was terrible,” she said bluntly. “But…” She hesitated, her expression softening. “He didn’t stop. Not once. He pushed himself beyond what I thought was possible for someone like him.”
Tarl chimed in, his tone grudgingly respectful. “He’s got some decent athleticism and flexibility from his street life. He’s quick on his feet, too—better balance than most recruits we’ve trained. But everything else? Sword work, archery, riding… absolutely awful.”
Mara smirked. “Except for the puzzles. He crushed those. Better memory and perception skills than Rangers twice his age, and that’s without any training. It’s almost unsettling how quick he picks up patterns and details.”
Another Ranger nodded in agreement. “The boy’s got something. I’ll give him that. But he’s stunted. He’s not getting enough food—his body won’t grow strong enough to handle all this unless we fix that.”
Thorne crouched beside Kael, who lay sprawled on the ground, his chest rising and falling heavily. “You hear that, boy?” Thorne said, his voice almost amused. “You’re terrible. But at least you’ve got heart.”
Kael groaned in response, his body too exhausted to form words.
Thorne chuckled and stood, addressing the group. “Feed him up. Train him harder. We’ll see what this street rat can become.”
The Rangers exchanged glances, some still skeptical, but none willing to argue. The boy had proven one thing today: he wouldn’t give up, no matter how impossible the task.
And for Thorne, that was decent enough—for now.
image [https://i.vgy.me/Y6xnIp.png]
The week had passed in a blur of exhaustion, pain, and relentless demands. Kael barely remembered the days themselves, each one blending into the next as if his life had become nothing more than a cycle of running, swinging, climbing, and falling. Sleep came in short bursts, and every time he awoke, the aches in his body seemed to multiply.
The Rangers kept a punishing pace. They stopped every other day to “rest,” though Kael quickly learned that these so-called rest days were merely a lighter version of the grueling training regimen. Hunting, foraging, and endless practice in every imaginable skill filled those days, ensuring there was no such thing as idle time. Kael was forced to eat more than he ever had in his life, the Rangers watching closely to ensure he consumed every bite of the meat, berries, nuts, and roots they gathered. His protests fell on deaf ears, and when he tried to refuse, Thorne would silently hand him another plate until Kael relented.
The training days, however, were a different kind of torture. Each morning began with a run that left his legs screaming, followed by drills that tested every ounce of strength and coordination he possessed. Sword training, archery, horsemanship—every skill he lacked was thrown at him with brutal efficiency. His hands bled from the bowstring, his arms felt like lead from wielding a sword, and his back ached from the endless hours spent carrying supplies.
Kael’s progress was minimal at best, his lack of experience and malnourished frame holding him back from anything resembling success. But despite his failures, the Rangers watched him closely, exchanging glances and muttered comments that Kael couldn’t hear. He didn’t know it, but he had accomplished something rare.
He had survived Hell Week.
Hell Week was a rite of passage for apprentices, a trial designed to break those too weak to endure the demands of a Ranger’s life. Most apprentices underwent it after years of training, when their bodies and minds were already honed for the challenge. Even then, only a fraction passed—half of the apprentices who entered Hell Week either quit or were deemed unfit to continue. It was the ultimate test, a crucible that separated the strong from the unworthy.
Kael, however, had been thrown into it with none of the preparation his predecessors had. He was barely half the age of most apprentices, an untrained street thief who had never held a sword or drawn a bow until days ago. He had none of the advantages that others brought to the trial, yet here he was—battered, bruised, and barely standing, but still moving forward.
Thorne and the Rangers knew what this meant. The boy hadn’t improved much in skill or technique, but he had proven something far more valuable: he had the resilience to withstand the life of a Ranger. He had steel in his spirit, a stubborn refusal to give in, no matter how impossible the task seemed.
On the seventh day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in hues of gold and crimson, the Rangers gathered around the campfire. Kael was slumped nearby, half-asleep but still gnawing on a strip of dried meat that Mara had handed him. His eyelids drooped, and his hands trembled from sheer exhaustion, but he hadn’t stopped.
Tarl leaned back against a tree, his expression contemplative. “The boy’s got more grit than I expected,” he muttered, his voice low. “Most apprentices would’ve broken by now. Hell, some trained ones did.”
Mara nodded, her sharp eyes fixed on Kael. “He’s rough—still awful at just about everything. But that’s not the point, is it? He’s got the fire. If we give him the time, he might just become something.”
Thorne sat at the edge of the firelight, his gaze on the boy. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He doesn’t know it yet,” he said softly, his voice carrying just enough for the others to hear, “but he’s already proven more than half of what I needed to see. He’s got the strength to endure. Now we see if he has the will to grow.”
The Rangers fell silent, their eyes lingering on the boy who had barely managed to survive his first week in their world. Kael didn’t notice their stares, too consumed by his aching limbs and the relentless pull of sleep. But even in his exhaustion, he felt something stirring deep within—a determination born of defiance.
Kael didn’t care about becoming a Ranger—not really. But he wasn’t about to let this break him. Giving up, submitting to anyone or anything, had never been in his nature. Unsure of what he truly wanted, he decided to follow this path for now. If nothing else, it would give him skills and abilities he could use to carve out his own future, whatever that might look like.
Thorne was a mystery—a hard, unrelenting man who pushed Kael to his limits at every turn. Yet, beneath the sharp edges and biting remarks, Thorne seemed to understand something about Kael that no one else had: the need to tackle the impossible, to take on the biggest challenge simply because it was there, daring him to fail. That unspoken understanding kept Kael moving forward on this path, even when his body screamed for him to stop.
image [https://i.vgy.me/Y6xnIp.png]
Two weeks of pure, unrelenting agony. That was how Kael would describe the time since his journey with the Rangers began. What should have been a simple five-day trip to the Ranger fortress had been stretched to nearly three weeks, all for the sole purpose of harassing him, pushing him, and seeing how far he could go before he finally broke.
He hadn’t broken.
Despite the exhaustion, the blisters, the bruises, and the constant barrage of challenges, Kael had kept going. He didn’t know what drove him anymore—pride, stubbornness, or perhaps just the need to prove something to himself. Whatever it was, it kept his feet moving, his hands steady, and his resolve intact.
And, to his surprise, he’d started to change.
Kael wasn’t good at most of what they threw at him—at least not yet—but the endless drills had worked a subtle magic. He felt a bit more sure-footed, his movements a little less clumsy when wielding a sword or firing a bow. The overwhelming tasks still felt impossible, but now they were slightly less so.
One area, however, had come naturally to him: foraging, tracking, and setting traps. Using the instincts and street-smarts he’d honed in his old life, Kael adapted quickly to the new terrain. He learned to recognize edible plants, to spot animal tracks in the mud, and to fashion simple but effective snares.
The other Rangers, though reluctant to give him direct praise, began to take notice. Mara had even offhandedly remarked that Kael was “half-decent at not starving himself to death in the woods,” which was the closest thing to a compliment he’d gotten from her.
His stealth had also improved, though that wasn’t much of a surprise. Sneaking came as naturally as breathing to him. While sneaking through a forest wasn’t exactly the same as navigating the labyrinthine streets of Althemar, many of the principles were similar: step lightly, use cover, and pay attention to the rhythms of your surroundings.
Kael still felt like an outsider among the Rangers, their camaraderie and shared history a constant reminder of how little he truly belonged. But he couldn’t deny the faint glimmer of pride that stirred within him at seeing even minuscule progress.
image [https://i.vgy.me/Y6xnIp.png]
After four grueling weeks of travel, Kael could barely believe his eyes. Rising from the dense forest ahead, perched against the jagged cliffs of a sprawling mountain range, was Caldarath Keep. The fortress loomed like a sentinel over the wilds, its stone walls weathered yet unyielding, with watchtowers that seemed to scrape the sky. From its perch, Kael could see the faint glint of steel as sentries patrolled the battlements, and banners bearing the Rangers’ sigil fluttered in the wind. It was unlike anything Kael had ever seen.
He’d spent his entire life in the cramped, chaotic streets of Althemar, where the horizon was blocked by crooked rooftops and crumbling walls. This, though—this was freedom. The open wilds, the crisp air of the mountain pass, the sheer scale of the keep—it all filled him with an exhilaration he didn’t fully understand.
The agony of the last four weeks, the relentless training, and the constant push to his limits faded into the background for a moment as he drank in the sight. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel a thrill. The world outside the city was vast, untamed, and full of possibilities. Even the harsh realities of surviving in the wild couldn’t dim the spark of joy he felt in exploring it.
Kael’s wilderness skills had grown—not impressive by any means, but functional. He’d become adept at setting small game traps and occasionally sneaking up on a rabbit or squirrel, using his street-learned skills of stealth and misdirection. With the help of the Rangers, he’d learned to clean and prepare his catches, enough to pass as a novice in the wild. He still lacked finesse in most areas, and his aim with a bow or slingshot left much to be desired, but his ingenuity often made up for his lack of precision.
His greatest strength, though, remained his mind. Kael had quickly grasped patterns in tracking and foraging, and his knack for adapting to new challenges stood out. While his relationships with the Rangers had been rocky at first, the constant weeks of shared hardship had fostered a begrudging respect—on both sides. Their camaraderie wasn’t warm, but it was a start.
As the group stood on a ridge overlooking Caldarath Keep, Thorne raised a hand, halting their march. His expression, as always, was unreadable, but there was a tension in his eyes that Kael hadn’t seen before.
“Listen up,” Thorne said, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the group immediately. “When we arrive at the keep, there’s going to be chaos.” His sharp gaze flicked to Kael. “Especially for you.”
Kael frowned, the exhilaration of seeing the keep tempered by a creeping sense of unease.
Thorne continued, “Typically, a Ranger only takes an apprentice from within the guild—someone who’s already a Ranger or a trainee in the academy. Apprentices are older, experienced, and for someone like me—a squad leader, with the expectation of taking over as Guildmaster one day—apprentices are usually the best of the best. Renowned warriors. Leaders in their own right.”
The other Rangers exchanged glances, their faces grim.
Thorne’s voice hardened. “You, Kael, are none of those things. You’re an outsider. A street rat with no history, no training, and no place in the guild. When the truth comes out, there will be frustration, upheaval, and no small amount of outrage. People will doubt you. They’ll mock you. Some will even hate you.”
Kael’s stomach tightened, but he kept his expression steady.
Thorne took a step closer, his tone quieter but no less firm. “I’m planning to put you through the academy. You’ll train alongside the others, endure the same trials, and earn your place as a Ranger—if you can.” He paused, his gaze sharpening. “But that’s not all. You’ll also endure extra training from me and my squad. You’ll have to meet every expectation and exceed most. I don’t care what excuses you might have—you’ll have none.”
Kael swallowed hard, the weight of Thorne’s words settling over him like a storm cloud. He could feel his muscles aching, the exhaustion of the last four weeks still fresh in his mind. And yet…
And yet, beneath the nervousness that churned in his gut, there was something else. A familiar fire.
Kael straightened his back, his sharp eyes locking onto Thorne’s. “Let them throw whatever they want at me,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor of anticipation running through him. “I won’t bow. Not to them, not to you, not to anyone.” A flicker of a smirk crossed his lips. “I’ll meet every challenge, and I’ll crush it.”
The other Rangers exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and grudging respect flickering in their eyes. They didn’t say it, but Thorne could see it in their faces—the scrawny thief they’d dragged out of Althemar had earned a place, however small, in their regard.
Thorne’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Good,” he said simply. Then he turned to his squad, his voice brisk and commanding. “Let’s move. We’ll be at the gates by nightfall.”
As the group descended the ridge, Kael’s mind buzzed with the prospect of what lay ahead. He felt the familiar thrill of a challenge, the kind that made his heart race and his blood sing. It was daunting, terrifying even—but it was also an opportunity.
And Kael had never been one to walk away from a challenge.