A forest older than human memory whispered around him as Arin ran, lungs burning, footsteps soft against the ancient moss. His eyes darted through the shadows, searching for the slightest movement—searching for him.

  There.

  A man stepped out from between the trees as if peeled from the darkness itself. A knife glinted in his hand. Before Arin could react, the man lunged, the blade slicing toward his head. Instinct screamed, and Arin barely twisted aside in time. The knife cut air where his skull had been a heartbeat earlier.

  Arin retaliated immediately, driving his own blade forward—but something shifted behind him. A cold shiver crawled up his spine.

  Behind me—!

  He threw himself to the ground just as his cape jerked violently backward, snagged on something unseen. The safety pin gave way with a sharp snap, tearing him free. He rolled across the forest floor, vision spinning—straight to the feet of another shadowed figure.

  The figure didn’t hesitate.

  Steel flashed.

  A wooden practice blade tapped hard against Arin’s chest—right over his heart.

  “…Noooo!” Arin wailed dramatically.

  “Give it up, Arin. You lost,” Bertho said, grinning with the kind of smugness that makes you want to punch some one.

  Arin glared at him from the ground. “Don’t look so smug, Bertho! I only rolled to your feet by accident. Cheap shot.” He jerked a thumb toward Tom. “And I can see it on Tom’s face—he didn’t plan that at all. You just got lucky.”

  Tom stood frozen, looking like someone had stolen his wife, his wallet, and his last doughnut all at once. The others burst out laughing.

  It had been two long days since the military arrived—two days trapped with barely any electricity and no phones to entertain them. Bored out of their minds, they had turned to the one thing they could do: exploring their newly awakened System abilities.

  Their proudest discovery so far:

  Skill Upgrade

  Basic Archery (Inferior)

  The archer’s oldest companion is the bow. Grants basic proficiency with bows and crossbows, and a slight increase to Strength and Agility when using ranged weapons.

  → Ancient War Archery (Rare)

  You have awakened the disciplined techniques of forgotten battlefield archers. This rare skill grants heightened proficiency with bows and crossbows, increases Strength and Agility when using ranged weapons, and allows you to loose arrows with greater speed—firing more shots, with more power, than a modern archer could ever dream.

  Of course, after the upgrade, they had gotten cocky. Almost too cocky.

  Looking back, it made sense—they had trained in this nearly forgotten archery style their entire lives. No wonder the System rewarded them for it.

  But emboldened by that success, they had tried to upgrade their Basic One-Handed Weapons (Inferior) skill as well…

  with absolutely no luck.

  So boredom returned full force.

  And, inevitably, they fell back into their childhood routine—playing hide-and-seek and tag in the woods. Only now with System-boosted bodies and wooden weapons that still managed to hurt like hell.

  Their evenings were spent meditating. Even with the unusually dense mana saturating the forest, none of them were anywhere close to reaching the second level.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Meanwhile, back at the hunting lodge—doubling as the clan’s old clubhouse—a group of elderly folk sat around a grainy monitor, watching the forest’s boundary.

  A car finally appeared.

  “Oi, Karl—that should be your boy, right?” one asked.

  “Yeah, that’s him.” Karl stood, stretching his back. “Let’s see how he does. I’ll go greet his family at the gate. Who knows—maybe he still has it. Or maybe he’ll get shown up by a bunch of brats half his age.”

  He snorted and walked off.

  “Dennis… do we really have to come here?”

  The woman in the passenger seat trembled, hands twisting in her lap.

  Simone dreaded this place.

  She adored her mother-in-law. She loved her nieces and nephews.

  But she hated—hated—how Dennis used to come home covered in bruises, sometimes even with a broken bone. He always laughed it off. She never could.

  She endured it only because he loved this place so much.

  But when she became pregnant—and threatened divorce—he finally listened. They moved abroad, far away from the old traditions.

  Most families did the same.

  Some thought the clan’s training was barbaric.

  Most simply didn’t want their children to suffer the same brutal “games” they had heard about and seen.

  Dennis glanced at his wife shaking beside him. He placed a calming hand on her thigh. In the rearview mirror, their two children slept heavily—they’d been driving two days straight.

  “I know you’re scared,” he said softly. “But if everything on the news is true… they’ll need to be able to defend themselves. And there’s nowhere better than here.”

  It was the fourteenth time he had reassured her that day.

  She had broken down in tears when his brother called.

  Dennis had convinced her only by showing how their children’s training would look—safe, supervised, nothing like the stories she remembered. And, of course, the moment the kids begged to try it, her resistance finally cracked.

  As the car rolled into the parking lot, he spotted his father immediately—though Simone, with her untrained eyes, did not. The old man stood motionless in the shadows, evaluating. Testing.

  The kids, sharp-eyed like their father, spotted him instantly.

  Dennis parked, waking the children gently.

  “No welcoming party?” Simone asked, still unaware that his father was practically right in front of her.

  “I told you,” Dennis said with a small smile, “I have to pass their test first.”

  He walked toward an unassuming oak tree where all of his gear was already laid out—prepared by his father with the same silent efficiency as always.

  Simone opened her mouth to complain—then froze.

  With sunlight filtering through the branches, Dennis stood beneath the oak like a warrior from a forgotten age, an elven silhouette cut from golden light. For a brief heartbeat, she remembered exactly why she had fallen in love with him.

  Then he vanished into the shadows.

  “Daddy looks so cool!” the kids screamed.

  Dennis rang the ancient bell hanging from the oak tree.

  DING. DING. DING.

  The sound echoed through the primeval forest.

  All at once, the woods stirred.

  Figures lifted their heads.

  Smiles appeared.

  Shadows shifted.

  And as Dennis exchanged a nod with his grinning father, he sprinted into the forest—

  —where, by tradition, he would be the prey.