It was an impressive Skill, but the cost made Trent's jaw drop. At 200 SP, and 100 MP, Arrows Flight was one of the most expensive tools in his arsenal. Combined with the fact that it had to be used in the open while facing the attacks of an Archer, Trent felt his enthusiasm for what was obviously an Advanced Skill, wane.

A new level in Survivalist also brought 5 Free Attribute Points. With the reward from his Quest, Trent had six to spend. He quickly added 3 to Strength, 2 to Dexterity, and 1 to Constitution. He studied the results in his Status as he felt the effects of the increased Attributes subtlety taking hold throughout his body.

Name: Trent Embra

Age: 12 Race: Al'rashian

Level: 11 Class: Survivalist Level 3 Class: Swordsman Level

8 Profession: None

Health: 630 Stamina: 630 Mana: 130 Strength: 25 Agility: 27 Dexterity :30 Constitution: 14 Endurance: 3 Intelligence: 13 Perception: 2 Wisdom: 10

Free Attribute Points: 0 Free Skill Points: 6

The numbers which defined him were a far cry from the ones he started with as a newly Awakened being months ago. Would they be enough to allow Trent to defeat Martin? He couldn't say. He had managed to bluff his way out of a confrontation with the Thief in their last encounter, but he knew the man was a higher level. If not for the demands of the Trial, Trent would leave things as they were.

Not that he had made any progress on his latest Quest. The Moonlit Forest called for Martin's death, and yet the rules of the Trial meant that any sign of passage the Thief might leave soon vanished. Trent's Tracking Skill had not picked up the slightest hint of the Thief despite his searching.

Searching that he should be getting back to. He picked the petals of the Wolf Vine, acquiring four more vials of Liquid Silver, one of which he tucked into his belt. Not the most secure spot, but it was the best he could manage until he could replace his pouch. The other three went into Storage.

Climbing down from his resting place, Trent had Pup tucked under one arm and a wooden sword shoved through his belt, things he had gotten quite used to. The lazy Dog snorted without waking as Trent dropped the last six feet to the ground, his boots thudding on the packed dirt below the tree.

The drop might not have disturbed Pup but being tossed to the ground wasn't something he could ignore. The Dog yelped as he impacted against the earth and brambles pricked at his hide. He whined as he clambered to his paws, staring reproachfully at Trent.

Trent didn't see the Dog's sad eyes. He was too busy trying to free his sword. The wooden blade was securely bound by his belt, and Trent absently wondered if the lack of a sheath would be the reason he lost his life.

The Werewolf was as surprised as Trent was, buying the Swordsman the precious seconds he needed to disentangle his blade. The Elwire sword swept out, cutting a thin line across the Beast's chest and shoulder. Rancid breath flooded Trent's senses as the Wolf howled in pain. Trent kicked at the stunned creature's knee and turned to run.

A second Werewolf's jaws snapped at his face, and Trent narrowly twisted aside. Adrenaline surged through him, banishing the last cobwebs left by restless sleep. He directed a low cut to the second Beast's legs and was rewarded with the sight of blood. Long Slash, enhanced by Bloodletting, cut its way along the creature's side and carried Trent to its back.

The trail beyond the Beast was clear. He could run now, but Trent pivoted, holding his sword with both hands, his legs and shoulders powering a slice down the Werewolf's back. Violence, aggression, and the need to conquer one's enemies were the weaknesses of a Survivalist. They were the instincts that had driven Trent to panic on the streets of Al'drossford.

But the Moonlit Forest was not filled with innocently passing

Commoners. It was a wild place, a place where violence was not only appropriate, it was necessary. Trent let loose the reigns he had put on the weaknesses of his Class. A cold fury filled him as he threw himself forward.

Two weeks. According to his Quest, he had spent two weeks in this Trial. It was only now that he was overcome with the realization that the biggest struggle he faced was with his own uncertainty. He vowed to hunt and then found himself clinging to the shadows, hiding. He swore to be more, then avoided the challenges that came his way, until a Guardian was ripping into his skin.

It was fighting the Guardian that had taught him weaknesses could also be strengths. Now that lesson had sunk in. A Survivalist was aggressive, a Swordsman arrogant, but both Classes fought at the front, never showing their back to the enemy, confident that victory was a stroke away.

Howls filled with paralyzing sound and flesh melting light narrowly missed Trent as he slashed and hacked at the two Beasts. Blood splattered against his mask and stained his shirt as he abandoned the forms of Military Fencing for the simplicity of Basic Longsword. Military Fencing was meant to be used against soldiers, and there was little civilization left in the man- shaped Wolves.

There was less civilization left in Trent as he struck at hamstrings and whirled to slice at eyes. He twisted and lunged, his Thrust barely penetrating thick hide. His wrists ripped his blade to the side, enlarging the wound. Elwire wood imbued with Liquid Silver caused Moon Cursed blood to boil, and the poison seeped into the Beasts as Trent continued his relentless assault.

That same blood evaporated on his blade when Trent found himself standing over the corpses of two creatures he would have fled from had that been an option. His chest heaved, and he swallowed heavily. Tucking his sword under his arm, Trent fumbled for his water skin and drank deeply, the stale fluid rushing through his body.

It was a good thing that the hides of Werewolves held no value. Trent had rent nearly every inch of the Trials creature's skin, leaving the Beasts a

shredded mess. Trent's hands patted at his own body, searching for wounds, and was astonished to find himself untouched. If not for the XP in his Status and his nearly depleted Stamina, he would have thought it all a dream.

As Trent stood waiting for his Stamina to recover, Pup wriggled his way out of the brush and darted over to flop on Trent's boots. Taking his sword in his right hand, Trent knelt and rubbed at the Dog's ears. Pup leaned into his palm, grumbling happily at the attention.

"You stole half the XP again," Trent sighed. "You'll probably want the teeth as well, huh? What do you want with them anyway?"

Pup's tail beat a furious pattern and he latched on to Trent's hand as an answer.

"If they're improving your bite, I don't see it." Trent shook the Dog loose and Pup tumbled away. "You need to run."

Pup scrambled into a sitting position and cocked his head. Trent's words were out of place until Pup followed the boy's gaze and saw the black figure rushing down the trail. Trent's boots missed stepping on the Dog by a hair's width as he flung himself forward. The unnatural stillness of the Moonlit Forest was unbroken as the Swordsman and Beast clashed.

Claws slashed at Trent's head and he craned his neck to avoid them. Triple Slash cut the black Werewolf once, but the subsequent blows missed as the Beast stepped back. Trent tried to Parry the counter that was sent his way and once again found himself reeling as his Skill was broken. His mind clouded by the sudden shock, Trent was nearly caught by the second Skilled strike directed at his abdomen.

Flipping himself over the Beast's arm, Trent landed on one knee and twisted to slice at the Werewolf's legs. A clawed foot impacted against his chest, flinging him on to his back. As he landed, he heard a clicking sound that he hoped wasn't a bone breaking. His sword fell from his hand, and his lungs refused to work. For a moment, Trent was unable to move.

The Werewolf's jaws opened, and a red light gathered behind its teeth.

Trent tried to roll to the side. His body refused to listen. Vacant white eyes set in black fur regarded him mockingly as the Wolf prepared to melt the skin from his bones.

Pup was small. Trent realized just how tiny the Dog was when he popped into existence on the back of the Werewolf's neck and bit down. Pup growled as he clamped down, but it was a lethargic sound. The Dog braced his legs and shook his head, trying to tear into the much larger Beast, and from where Trent lay, he could see Pup's body tremble from Mana or Stamina depletion, perhaps both.

Pup had stolen the Shadow Rat's Core, learning a new Skill when he had consumed it. A Skill that allowed him to traverse the space between himself and the Wolf, but clearly, he lacked the Attributes to support the Skill, much like his teeth lacked the strength to pierce through the Beast's fur.

The black Werewolf kept his eyes on Trent and continued to gather his attack as one clawed hand streaked up to grasp Pup around his middle. There was a crunching sound as the Dog was lifted away, and the agonized squeak that burst out of Pup was cut off as his body slammed to the earth.

Trent, usually so silent as he fought, screamed. His hand slapped against the ground for his sword hilt and found the object that had clinked when he fell instead. His fingers curled around the vial of Liquid Silver that had dropped from his belt, and Trent hurled it with another outraged cry.

The Werewolf's rending howl met the vial in midair. Glass shattered, and the poison became a mist that floated into the Wolf's open muzzle. The Beast's howl became a sharp roar of pain. Its bellows continued as the burning on its face was joined by lines of fire crisscrossing its torso.

Trent found his sword and his feet. Trent saw red as he unleashed an unending chain of Skilled strikes and a hoarse wail, all directed at the Beast. Chop severed the Werewolf's arm at the elbow. Fast Strike, Triple Slash, and Thrust were repeated again and again as the creature backpedaled. Trent followed it, his arms filled with a desperate energy. The Werewolf was driven to the ground, and Trent kept hacking at it until his body became heavy.

Even then, he tried to kick and stomp at the corpse. If wheezing gasps and the sound of rattling breath had not broken through his rage, Trent might have continued until he fell from exhaustion. The noise of Pup laboring for air brought him to his senses and sent him scrambling to the Dog's side.

Dropping his sword, Trent hurried to kneel beside Pup. The Dog's limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, his eyes were open but rolled back, and his chest caved in. Trent's mouth opened and then he clamped his lips shut. He was afraid that asking how the Dog could still be alive would send the animal into the dark.

Maybe that would be a mercy. The pup's body shook with every breath, and blood leaked from the corners of his mouth. Trent's hands hovered helplessly over the tiny body. Balm couldn't help here nor the greater healing potion in Trent's Storage. Both the charm and the potion were meant to heal flesh, not bone. Pup was broken in a way that required more than Trent had.

"What were you thinking? How are you still alive?" Trent whispered, "Why are you even here? You're no Beast, no Hunter. You're an animal! A stupid, weak, brave, idiot!"

Pup did not whimper as Trent pulled him onto his lap. The unconscious Dog should have been killed instantly, and Trent was sure it was only a cruel joke of the Trial that kept the animal trapped in his body. In the part of his mind that tracked the health of party members, Trent watched Pup's life decrease from 3 HP to 2. The end was near.

"You can't die without a name! No one should die like that!" It was something Trent had avoided. Names were important. It wasn't his place to give the Dog one. He remembered a small Awakened, a boy, who in his memory was hardly bigger than the puppy. That boy had run until his feet bled and might have died without a name himself. Trent might never have had a name if it weren't for Michael.

"Es'trent. You deserve better than that." Trent lightly caressed Pup's ear. "Dreq. Your name is Dreq. It means…"

There had been an itch beneath Trent's skin ever since he brought the

Dog into his party. As Dreq's HP dropped to 1 and Trent prepared to close the pup's eyes, that itch became a burrowing sensation in his chest that caused Trent's mind to go blank.

He did not notice how his palm warmed as it settled on Dreq's head. He forgot the meaning of the Dog's name, forgot to wonder how it came to him in the first place. The only thing that drew his attention away from the intensifying ache at his center and back to the animal in his lap was the snapping sound of bone.

Eyes wide, Trent watched as Dreq's legs straightened, and the depression in his chest bulged back out. The Dog's breathing eased, and his eyelids slid shut. Before they closed completely Trent caught a glimpse of healthy brown pupils, heavy with sleep.

"What just happened?" Trent asked, not expecting an answer. When one came, his hand shot towards Sorrow's hilt.

"The canine earned a name," a silky voice came from above Trent's head. "Lucky, that. We all come seeking names and titles, but most of us die before we earn one."

A six-legged Beast dropped out of a nearby tree. Five feet long from blunt, square muzzle to tailless rear, the creature looked to weigh about three hundred pounds, and every ounce of that was muscle. With dark green feathers rather than fur and no sign of ears showing, Trent was reminded of a bird. The creature had vertical yellow eyes, which slowly narrowed as they studied Trent.

"What does a name have to do with…" Trent gestured at the peacefully sleeping puppy who had been so close to death. He used Identify to learn that the creature was a Level 23 Reme, which told him nothing.

"Everything," the Reme replied, stretching out all of its legs to lay flat. "It's why we come here. Names mean rebirth. I think I heard some of your kind refer to it as Awakening. I missed the details of that conversation. They were too near my den at the time."

"You hid from them?"

"No, I ate them. There is no Truce outside of the Hunter's Trials." Blinking, the Reme rolled onto its back. "Can you give names to any you meet, Hunter?"

"No," Trent murmured, looking down at Dreq. "I shouldn't have named him. But I still don't understand. Why is he healed?"

"Rebirth, a new life. The animal is changed by your words," The Reme flipped to its feet, its foremost set of paws patted its chest, "or reminded of itself by your words. This canine is strange." The Beast crept closer to sniff at Dreq. Trent almost broke the Truce then, the muscles in his arm tensed as he tried to keep Sorrow in its sheath.

"When he wakes, he will have access to his Status." The Reme's nose pressed against Trent's chest as it snuffled at him. "Are you sure you have no name rattling around in there for me?"

"I'm sure," Trent said through gritted teeth.

"Pity." The Reme hopped back. "Then we are done here."

The Beast began to leave, and Trent surprised himself by speaking up to stop it. "I can't give you a name, but maybe I can help you earn one."

The Reme spun around. "Explain!"

"The Quest to kill Martin Vane, to hunt the Truce Breaker, if we complete it together…" Trent offered. He had had no luck finding the Ratkin himself. Joining forces with this odd Beast could only help.

The Reme's eyes blazed as it hissed, "Quest? I am aware of the Truce Breaker; his stink fills the Forest. Are you saying you've been tasked with the Hunt to bring him down?"

Trent's shoulders sank. He had been under the impression that all challengers in the Trial had received the Quest. He cleared his throat. "I have, but I guess you haven't. Does that mean you can't earn a name that way?"

"No, the Forest has given me no task. All Beasts avoid the Truce Breaker. His presence is more offensive than that of the Moon Cursed. They at least follow the dictates of their nature. We leave him to starve or become cursed himself. However, we can help one another." The Reme grew sly and it slunk closer. "If you help me with my hunt, I will assist you with yours."

"I don't require a name," the Beast added hurriedly. "I entered the Forest to complete my growth. Wings! Wings are all you must help me with. I've already killed the Rats, but the Wolves are trickier. The blacks appear without warning, and the greys can summon help. Working together…"

Trent did not reply at first. He thought over the Reme's offer carefully, looking for the catch. The Truce made betrayal unlikely, but the Beast was too eager. The Reme hadn't helped Trent against the three Wolves, though Trent couldn't hold that against it… against her? The Reme batted its lashless lids in a distinctively feminine way as she waited for his answer.

"I'll help you," Trent said at last, "once Dreq is awake."

'We mustn't wait!" The Reme stomped two sets of paws against the ground. "The Dog might sleep for days while undergoing the change! Carry it while we hunt!"

"I only have two hands." Trent held his arms up in demonstration. "Both of which I need to fight with. I can't just toss Dreq aside every time we run into an enemy." Trent conveniently forgot the many times he had done just that.

"And you won't abandon him, I suppose," the Reme trilled impatiently. "Your kind uses bags, yes? Put the Dog in a bag and carry him on your back!"

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that!" Trent slapped his forehead with a palm and then felt around with exaggerated motions. "Only I seem to have misplaced my pack! How could that have happened?"

The Reme reared up and spun on her back legs, disappearing into the

brush. When she returned, she was dragging three Winter Wolves, two with her middle set of limbs and one with her teeth. "Make what you need, Hunter! Quickly! My wings await!"

Trent stared at the three corpses deposited before him. They had been killed by claws, a weapon the Reme lacked, so he was certain she hadn't broken the Truce, only… "They are Hunters. Are we allowed to?"

"You mustn't eat them!" the Reme warned. "But the rest, nothing says we can't make use of their bodies. It will go to waste otherwise. Now, hurry!"

The Reme plucked Dreq from Trent's lap and started to set him aside until a growl from Trent stopped her. Her feathers ruffled as she cradled the pup in a mothering fashion while giving Trent a look that said she had never intended to drop the Dog in the first place. Her eyes blinked rapidly, demanding Trent set to work.

Which he did. Drawing Sorrow, Trent began to Harvest the Wolves, muttering apologies as he cut. It felt disrespectful to make use of a fellow challenger this way. His Skill whispered to him, telling him to take the claws and teeth as well as the hide, but those, along with the Core, he left. He used Earth Manipulation to dig a grave for the three fallen hunters after he finished.

The Reme scoffed at this and hissed under her breath about wasted time, but when Trent's glare found her, she was staring skywards, rocking Dreq as if she hadn't said a word. Trent cast Prepare Hides instead of arguing with the creature, then sat back on his heels and looked at the results, stumped.

He was new to crafting, and his Sewing Skill suggested a solution to his dilemma, only it wasn't very practical. Without a better idea, Trent cut thin strips out of one hide and a large square out of another. He slit four holes at the sides of the square and folded it, then used the strips to bind the hide into a makeshift pouch. He cut a series of holes along the top of the pouch and wove a longer strip through them.

Wrapping the rough belt around his waist, Trent tied it securely in front. The pouch hung at his back, and Trent had the Reme place Dreq in it. He was

not happy with the results. Dreq would bounce when Trent ran and be exposed to any strikes that came from behind. It was the best he could come up with. He allowed the Reme's approving trills to convince him that this would work, and the two set off.

Trent had notifications begging for his attention, but the Reme would suffer no delays. The creature's heightened senses found grey Werewolves quickly and, just as quickly, Trent realized he had been set up. The Reme looked intimidating with her bulk, but her paws, while heavy, had no claws, and the teeth in her muzzle were flat. She could crush the smaller Wererats with her weight, however, she needed to borrow Trent's blades to kill the Wolves.

Annoyed as he was at the discovery that the Reme was mostly incapable of harming their foes, Trent had to admit she had her uses, and the two found a pattern. While the Reme drew the Beasts' attention, Trent struck from the sides. The Reme wasn't able to damage the Wolves. Neither could their howls penetrate her feathers. She swatted at the Beasts and then bore the brunt of their assault as Trent stabbed and sliced.

The Reme was reluctant to accept Trent's leadership, so they were forced to split their kills rather than share them. When it was Trent's turn, his sword cut to kill, but for the Reme he disabled limbs and bled the Beasts until they fell, at which point the Reme used her blunt paws to cave in skulls.

Dreq slept peacefully unaware in his pouch as the two slaughtered their way through the Moonlit Forest. They killed greys until the blacks appeared. The first black Werewolf called for a change in their tactics. Smarter and faster than its grey relatives, the Beast ignored the stationary Reme and went for Trent.

Trent almost lost his head to a swipe before they worked out an answer. With the black Werewolves, Trent stood his ground and traded blows while the Reme crept up from behind. Once she was in place the feathered creature would leap and wrap her six legs around the Trial Beast, dragging it to the ground with her greater weight. Unyielding limbs held the Wolf while Trent stabbed relentlessly, whittling away its HP.

The Reme pushed Trent on frantically. She hardly allowed him to catch his breath before urging him to the next target. She was delighted and possessed as she tromped through the forest whispering of wings and demanding Trent move faster. He lost count of the number of Beasts they slew, and it wasn't until a black Wolf died under the Reme's stomping that he realized just how far they had come.

The Reme's excited yowling as the Beast's head gave way told Trent that this kill brought something new. His arms hung limp at his sides and the tip of his sword dug into the dirt. He was exhausted. The Reme hadn't allowed him to rest, and he felt like he hadn't slept in days. The creature's leaping, spinning dance was bizarre, but if she allowed him to stand still for a few moments, Trent was happy to watch her display.

"That's the last!" she shrieked, her voice distorted. "You clever cub! You've done it! Wings! I will finally have wings!"

The Reme's flat muzzle lengthened and hardened. A wickedly sharp beak appeared on her face, perfectly complimenting the black talons that grew from her toes. Green and white tail feathers spread out from her rear and fanned at the air. However, it was the lumps on her back that held Trent fixated, and he took a nervous step back as two sets of wings erupted. The Reme screamed as the eight-foot appendages burst forth in an eruption of blood and feathers, but there was no sign of pain on her avian face. It was ecstasy that shone in her yellow eyes.

Bunching her legs beneath her, the Reme shot into the sky, becoming a shrieking green streak. She soared upwards and turned loops, swatting at treetops as she swooped. When she landed again, the ground trembled under the force of her impact, and Trent could imagine the bones of Were-Beasts she hadn't been able to harm before breaking from her drop.

Trent rolled his shoulders uncomfortably as the Reme preened her feathers with her new beak. Clearing his throat, he broke her from her reverie, "Congratulations! Now, about my Quest…"

"Yes, I haven't forgotten." The Reme butted against his chest with the top of her head. "You must kill the Truce Breaker. He is near. His stink lingers

outside the stone circle. Go there, and you will find your prey."

The Reme pointed further down the trail, and Trent turned to look. There was no sign of a circle, stone or otherwise. When he turned back, a shimmering portal had appeared behind the Reme. When she stepped towards it, Trent reached out a hand to stop her and was ignored.

"Good hunting, man-chick! Do not enter the circle itself!" With this, the Reme stepped through the portal and was gone. Trent's grasping fingers held nothing but air, and he let his arm fall back to his side.

Man-chick? Clever cub? Trent didn't know when he had stopped being a Hunter in the Reme's eyes, but a part of him was glad she had left before heaping any other new titles on him. His boots scuffed at the dirt as he tried to remember the exact terms of their agreement. The Reme had said she would assist him, and in a way, if her mention of a stone circle turned out to be true, she had.

"There is no Truce outside the Hunter's Trial," Trent repeated out loud the words the feathered Beast had uttered. He had come to doubt the Reme's story about eating the Awakened she had conversed with outside her den. He glanced at the crater created by her landing, and picturing the Reme's razor- sharp beak and talons, he knew that the next group who approached her home might not escape. She was a Beast, after all. A Beast that Trent had helped grow stronger.

Then again, she had helped him develop as well. He had had notifications before their meeting, and he sensed more awaiting his reading after her departure. Martin could wait a few minutes longer. He undid the sash that held Dreq's pouch and cradled the sleeping pup in the crook of his arm as he looked for a place to rest.

The tree he found was not ideal. Only the timber with the silver bark and Wolf Vine had proven to be secure. Any concealment would have do for now. Holding Dreq carefully, Trent made his assent and, settling into the V of a high branch, opened his Status.

The results left him breathless. He had enough XP to level Swordsman

multiple times, and every one of his attack Skills had grown, providing several Attribute Points to Strength, Agility, and Dexterity. The fact that he had completed almost all the terms of the Trial was stunning. All he needed for a Perfect Clear was to defeat the final Guardian.

If not for one last notification, this might have been the most important detail in Trent's Status. But there was one message that captured his attention and confused him.

You have created Level 1. This Skill is a combination of multiple others that you have combined in a

unique way. Suitable for fighting Beasts, bonuses to Damage will apply when doing so. Usable with both long and short bladed weapons. You

may name this Skill yourself. 2 Dexterity 3 Wisdom.

Staring at his Status, Trent could see connections leading from all his attack Skills, including Ocean Meets the Shore and Acrobatics, leading to the unnamed technique. In his mind, he could feel the familiarity he had acquired with this new Skill. It was rough, and time would tell if it remained effective, but for this Trial it had met his needs.

He did not name the Skill. After leveling Swordsman three times and assigning 4 Attribute Points to Strength, 4 to Agility, 2 to Dexterity, and 2 to Constitution, he closed his Status. There was too much to consider, and he had things to do. Tying Dreq's satchel to a nearby branch, Trent took out pieces of Elwire wood and Beast teeth. He whittled at them as he thought of what came next.

Martin Vane. Trent knew next to nothing about the Ratkin. Not his Level, how he fought, or what Skills and Abilities he might have. Trent was completely in the dark about the man he once thought might become a friend. A man whom the Trial demanded that he kill. All Trent could say for certain was that Martin's Level was higher than his own.

That wasn't a frightening thought. Trent could not recall a time when he faced an enemy that was his Level or less. Maybe the Skeletons he and Tersa had dealt with in the prison? Trent knew his wide range of Skills allowed him to compete with Beasts that should be stronger than he was.

But Martin was a Thief, and, outside of sparring, Trent had never tested himself against another Awakened in a life or death struggle. He would need everything at his disposal. He hefted the Elwire stick he had carved into a long-pointed dart. A flick of his wrist sent the projectile downwards, where it stuck into a lower branch. Barely.

Retrieving the dart, Trent noted that the tip was already blunt. Not good. Martin wasn't Moon Cursed, so Trent would not waste a vial of Liquid Silver. So, after sharpening the tip, he used Spiritual Flame and Fire Manipulation, not to imbue the dart, but to harden it. The thick, sweet smell of the wood spread out through the forest, causing Trent to curse at himself.

Stupid! He might as well set the tree on fire! At least then he could be warm when every Beast in the Forest lay siege to his perch! He held perfectly still and waited to see what his ineptitude would bring. When the scent dispersed and no howling hordes of enraged Were-Beasts came for him, Trent allowed himself to relax.

The process had worked. The wooden shard had lost its yellow sheen and was as hard as black iron. A second test stuck the dart an inch into Trent's target, a good foot away from where he had meant to hit. The dart was thinner and too light after the excess was burned away. He would need to practice. Later. First, there were plenty of branches and teeth left to be carved.

Chapter Sixteen Master Taylor probably would not be impressed by the mess Trent had

made of his creations. Trent could picture the Craftsman's face twisting with displeasure at the sight of the pockets Trent had added to his shirt. He would most likely forgive the boy after learning that Trent's Sewing Skill had risen to Level 3, but no perfectionist would appreciate their work being sullied by amateur hands.

Trent, on the other hand, was happy with the results of his crafting. Two new belt pouches hung from his waist. He had sewn the hide with the fur on the inside as lining. He added extra padding to cradle the vials of poison and the greater Healing potion they carried. The pockets that he had positioned low on his side held the best examples of his carving and weapons craft. He did not coat or imbue the darts with Liquid Silver. If all went as planned, Trent would be selling the last of the vials, not using them.

The pup, Dreq, still slept, blissfully unaware in his satchel. He snorted and stirred as Trent lifted the bag from its hanging spot, but the Dog's eyes remained clamped shut. Trent tied the bundle around his waist with a sigh. He had gotten a little shuteye himself, just not enough, and he couldn't help but wish someone would carry him around for a day or two while he rested.

Trent scanned the area before dropping from the tree. His sword was in his hand, not pushed through his belt. As his boots touched the ground, he crouched for a moment, in case a black Werewolf made an appearance. When one didn't, he straightened and started in the direction the Reme had told him to go.

He hoped the feathered Beast was correct and Martin had holed up somewhere nearby. Checking Map, Trent saw that he had explored just about every inch of the Moonlit Forest, and if he kept going, his internal Map would be complete. That didn't mean much, however. Martin had legs; he could have moved in the time since the Reme left.

Trent thought that unlikely. If Martin had found a relatively secure spot, he would be unwise to leave it. The Beasts challenging the Trial might not be hunting him, but he couldn't know that. Trent walked beside the trail with Stealth and Camouflage active. He moved with deliberate steps, keeping watch for the silver trees, the trees he would choose if he wanted to hide.

The first thing of interest Trent saw was the stone circle. It dominated a clearing, sitting a hundred feet from any tree. The word monolith came to mind. Towering stone pillars, connected by slabs laying across their tops, 'stone circle' was not how Trent would describe what he was seeing. The Reme had a gift for understatement.

Using Far Sight, Trent could make out pictures carved into the stone. Images of animals and men battling against the Trial's Beasts, in packs and alone, covered the pillars from top to bottom. Trent saw Wolves carrying their prey to the ground under the weight of their numbers. Panthers slashed with claws that dripped blood. And the men…

Trent had felt… welcomed… in the Moonlit Forest. The Trial spoke to a corner of Trent's soul that had been dormant under Sergeant Cullen's more civilized instruction. The Forest had helped him understand himself, to recognize that the restraints he imposed on his Classes had to be released when the situation called for it.

Viewing the pictographs from afar, Trent asked the moon, silently, why he had been allowed to enter. The men depicted in the images did not wear armor or wield weapons. Their bodies were covered in fur and they attacked with teeth. Fox tails and Cat ears identified the warriors as Kindred, like Martin. This Trial was a place for Beasts to break through their limits and young Kindred to explore their heritage. Whatever lay at the heart of the circle held more meaning for Martin than it did for Trent, and the Thief, unable to see that, had betrayed what this Trial represented.

And now he was hunted by an Al'rashian who did not belong. Trent tore his gaze from the pillars with an effort. The Reme had said not to enter that place. Martin would be outside, but where? No silver shone in the moonlight; no bushes moved against the breeze. Relaxing his eyes, Trent didn't focus on any particular area and allowed Perception to dictate what was important.

His senses felt alive! He could hear the battle cries of Beasts and the screams of the wounded. The smells of pine and blood drifted to his nose. To the right, halfway between the barrier of trees and the circle of stone, shifting grass stung Trent's eyes with an obvious wrongness. There was something concealed there that did not belong. Martin Vane's Skills were better than Trent's but not a match for a secondary Attribute which excelled at revealing secrets.

"Arooo." The smile spreading across Trent's face froze at the sleepy sound coming from the satchel at his waist. A second groaning yawn sent his

fingers to the knot over his belt and he tore at it. Dreq was waking up just in time to give Trent's position away!

Pulling the bag to the front, Trent reached in and snatched Dreq up by the scruff of his neck. The pups tail wagged sleepily, and he licked at Trent's mask. Trent clamped his free hand around the Dog's muzzle and shushed him. Dreq squirmed but remained quiet, his eyes solemn.

Putting the Dog down on the grass, Trent took a days' worth of dried meat out of Storage. A second thought had him doubling the food and tossing two Dire Wolf Fangs beside the rations. That should be enough to keep Dreq occupied.

Casting a glance to make sure the lump he had noticed hadn't moved, Trent bent down and stroked Dreq's head. "Stay here. No matter what, you understand? Stay here and stay quiet. I will be back soon."

Dreq was hunched over the dried meat, devouring it with gusto, and Trent took the wiggling of his rear as assent. The Dog hadn't eaten in days and had little interest in anything but food. Trent place a bowl he had carved next to Dreq and filled it with water before patting the Dog again and straightening up.

With his sword in his right hand and a bone dart in his left, Trent slipped through the shadows until he was directly across from the shape he assumed to be Martin. Sixty feet of open space separated him from the completion of his Quest. It was too far for a dart throw. Trent thought he might manage it with an axe, but now wasn't the time for experimenting.

Sword held low and to the side, Trent stepped into the clearing. *

Hunger gnawed at Martin's center. A hunger that grass and bark couldn't satisfy. He ground his teeth and dug his fingers into the soil. He had lain in this spot for what felt like a lifetime. Beasts wouldn't enter this clearing. They would not approach the stone monument. He was safe here; safe to freeze and starve.

He had tried venturing from this place several times in search of food. Twice he had discovered wounded creatures, but when he approached them, the animals forgot their injuries and attacked him. He had tried to fight them and ended up retreating. His Class was one of Stealth. He lacked huge reserves of Health and Stamina that would have allowed him to battle on even terms with Beasts. He relied on deception and only the creatures' unwillingness to enter this clearing had preserved his life.

At this point, Martin would even eat the tainted meat the Moon Cursed dropped. It would mean suffering the curse himself, but was that any worse than starving to death? Some of the Kindred reveled in the strength that could be gained by consuming a Were-Beast. They claimed that a few days a month of mindless savagery was a small price to pay, and Martin could accept that price now.

The more Martin considered it, the more the idea appealed to him. If he survived this Trial, there would still be the chosen of Sallor to deal with. The heightened senses of the Moon Cursed would aid him. He could become a Were-Beast and Champion, and never have to cower before any, ever again!

It was a fine thought. In practice, killing a Trial Beast had proven troublesome. When he drew near, the white eyes of Rats and Wolves tracked him no matter his Skills. He might as well have been drunkenly singing at the top of his voice for all the good Stealth and Hide did him. Trent had said he was marked, and the kid was right.

Never speak of demons beneath a full moon. Motion directly in front of Martin caused his muscles to tense. The figure that stepped out of the trees was dressed in a mixture of whites, blacks, and grey. Even the sword he held was black, and he drifted forward in the moonlight.

Martin pulled his cloak around his body as he stood, his fingers exploring the inner pockets that held the few weapons he had left. "Love to know how you do that, kid. How do you spot me? You a Swordsman or a Diviner?"

Trent said nothing, his feet gliding through the grass, his breathing even. Martin gnashed his teeth. "Answer me! You fooled me once, but you can't honestly expect to beat me? That trick with the fire, been thinking about that. It's not a Swordsman's Skill. You can't keep it up long!"

Still nothing. Maybe the kid's tongue had been ripped out. Martin hoped not. He was looking forward to doing that himself. Martin's fingernails extended into claws. Beneath the cover of his cloak, he drew a long, thin blade and held it close to his leg.

"Let's be reasonable." Martin stepped back as he spoke. "It was wrong of me to scare you at the start, but you paid me back, yeah? Let's work together, find the exit. There's got to–"

Martin threw himself to the side as Trent's blade cut through the space he had occupied. Martin snarled and whipped his arm forward, his knife flashing. Trent leaned back to avoid the strike, and Martin activated one of his few combat Skills, Whisper Step. Impossibly fast, he was behind the

Swordsman and using Back Stab. Pain and fear! Pain from the dart that pierced his left shoulder and fear

from the speed with which Trent parried his attack. Martin back stepped as a sword slashed at his face. The fear grew as Trent matched him step for step, his blade never pausing, shifting from one attack to another. Martin's Agility kept the sword from cutting him, but when another dart stuck into his thigh, he almost screamed.

Had Trent been lying when he told Martin he was a Level 9? He was too fast! Maybe he had leveled up some in this Trial, but this was too much. Nothing in the Thief's experience could explain how a Warrior could keep up with him. Warriors invested in Strength and Constitution, and although Strength played a part in speed, Martin's Class and Agility should have given him an edge. As it was, he was barely staying away from the dark blade in Trent's hand, and he could not even see the darts the kid threw!

When the third shard of bone lodged itself into his bicep, Martin abandoned the thought of killing Trent. Running! Running was his only way of escape! He could lose the Swordsman in the trees…

Only he couldn't! There was no safety in the cover of the Forest for Martin. The Beasts that roamed the Trial were as implacable as Trent. This clearing was the only place where Martin was free from the pursuit of claws and fangs. He was safe because none would approach the stone monument.

Martin dodged a slash and sprinted for the stone pillars. He pulled the dart from his thigh and tossed it aside. The others could wait. He expected to feel a blade plunge into his back at any moment. He had to reach the circle. Maybe it was the exit! If he could leave this Trial and make it back to Bellrise, Trent couldn't touch him.

Under normal circumstances, thoughts of being sheltered by the law would have brought a sardonic smile to Martin's lips. Now he swore he would kiss the boots of the first Guardsman he saw. He would offer gold to any god that helped him reach the stone circle before Trent. Whatever lay within had to be better than the silent killer that followed him!

Martin needn't have run so fast. His sudden escape had thrown Trent off his stride. Trent was too used to fighting Trial Beasts, which never backed down, no matter how the fight went. In his eyes, the Thief was no better than a Wererat. The last thing Trent expected was to be left without an enemy.

The sight of Dreq running out of the trees to join Trent bought Martin another second. Trent waved the Dog back before beginning the chase. He threw a dart at Martin's legs to hinder the man. His Throw Skill failed him, and the bone weapon vanished into the grass.

As Martin passed between two pillars, Trent's steps faltered. Thick slabs of rock began to rise up from the ground between all the stone columns, threatening to hide Martin from view. Trent had to grab the edge of the stone slab when he reached it and, pulling himself up, he rolled across and dropped to the ground on the other side.

Martin's back was to Trent as he landed; a single lunge and thrust were all it would take to finish him. Trent withheld the blow the Trial demanded. The inside of the stone circle was far bigger than it should be, much larger than it appeared from outside. The moon hung directly overhead and illuminated a space longer than the clearing, which held the monument, a space enclosed by towering stone walls.

"Looks like we die together, kid," Martin's shoulders shook as he laughed helplessly. "Why don't you go first?"

At the center of the circle, a bear with snow-white fur had reared up on its hind legs and roared, spraying foam and slobber into the air. On all fours, the creature had been fifteen feet at the shoulder and standing it rose to a height that made Trent feel like an ant. When its front paws fell back to the ground, the dirt rippled from the force.

Martin was tossed from his feet as the land bucked beneath him. Trent rode out the wave with Steady Footing, but the lurch in his stomach said the bear's Skill had nearly broken his own. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he checked the notification in his Status.

You have chosen to enter the den of the Guardian. Defeat Greater Dire Bear, the Forest Monarch, to clear the Trial.

With the help of the Reme and his imbued wooden blades, Trent had managed to complete all the challenges the Trial had asked of him up to this point. After his encounter with the Shadow Wererat, it never once crossed his

mind to go looking for the final Guardian.

And the Guardian was a Dire Bear, not a Were-Beast. Though Liquid Silver might burn the Forest Monarch, it would not poison or weaken the Bear. The imbued longsword in his hand was not capable of doing an extra 30 Damage against this Beast. Sorrow and Strife had a higher basic attack rating than the wooden sword. Not that Trent switched his weapon for the knives. He doubted they were long enough to do more than prick this Guardian.

Martin clambered to his feet and took off, putting as much distance as he could between himself, Trent, and the Bear. Trent, who had been about to offer to work with the Thief, swallowed his words. Martin was less dependable than a feathered Beast.

Or maybe the Thief did have his uses. The Forest Monarch's eyes tracked the fleeing Ratkin, and with a roar, it began lumbering after him. It was impressively quick for such a large animal, covering the distance to Martin in seconds and swiping at him with a paw wider than the man's chest.

What Martin lacked in attacking Skills he made up for with evasion. Assuming his Rat form, he scurried beneath the Bear's strike and between its legs. He continued running and dodging as the Dire Bear stomped after him, rending the earth with its claws. Trent stood in relative safety, ignored for the moment as a lesser target. The Bear was the Trial's Guardian, and the Moonlit Forest had taken issue with Martin's betrayal of the Truce. The Forest wanted him dead.

Trent absently wondered if he would receive the Quest rewards if Martin was flattened by the Bear rather than cut down by his sword. Then he realized how little that mattered. The Forest Monarch might be concentrating on the Thief for a moment, but once Martin's luck ran out, Trent would be next.

Trent raced after the Guardian and Ratkin. The ground rippled again as he lunged, spoiling his thrust, but with such a massive target, he couldn't miss. His wooden blade sunk six inches into the Bear's hide and then stopped. He tried to wrench it loose and was nearly pulled from his feet as the Bear surged forward after Martin. Trent let go of his sword hilt rather than get dragged

along.

While Martin screamed and scurried, nipping at the Bear's legs and avoiding its crushing paws, Trent calmly took three more Elwire swords from Storage. He tied two of them to his belt with a leather strip and took the third in a two-handed grip.

"Try to keep it in one place," he hollered to Martin.

"Sallor take your eyes, you shi–"! Martin was sent rolling as he failed to dodge completely and was hit by the edge of the Bear's paw. He lay stunned for a moment, then began to run again without bothering to complete his insult.

Not as dependable as the Reme, but if he kept the Bear occupied, Trent could put up with the Thief. Trent ran for the Dire Bear's backside again and began slashing at the Beast's leg. Slashes enhanced by Bloodletting scored the Bear's skin while dashing Trent's hopes of severing a limb. It felt like he was hacking at an Elwire with a spoon! It would take hours to whittle away the Forest Monarch's Health this way!

It was difficult to concentrate his blows in one place the way Martin led the Beast around. Trent's precision and footwork were put to the test as he tried to keep up. When the Bear reared again, he seized the opportunity to plunge a Thrust deep into a cut in the creature's leg and twist, opening the gash as much as he could.

He managed this maneuver twice before the Bear came crashing back down, and this time Martin wasn't the only one sent spinning by the Beast's tremors. So close to the epicenter, Steady Footing broke and Trent was tossed to the ground. He lay stunned for a moment and then staggered back to his feet.

He lost another sword. Tearing a new one loose, Trent paused before resuming his attack. This wasn't working, and new tactics were called for before Martin was crushed and Trent lost his bait. His hand touched the pouch holding the Liquid Silver, and an idea formed.

Watching to make sure Martin wasn't leading the Forest Monarch in his direction, Trent dug out three Elwire darts and six bone darts, then took six bright yellow leaves from his Storage. He folded the leaves and stuck the darts of bone through them. Then, ever so carefully, he dripped Liquid Silver onto the bone darts without using Fire to imbue them.

Martin, catching sight of Trent calmly fiddling around, spit out a curse. Thinking the kid needed to be reminded that there was a time and a place for playing, the Thief altered his course. With the Bear chomping behind him, Martin ran directly at Trent, a manic grin splitting his face. He could die happy if Trent were eaten first!

His grin faded as he neared the boy, and instead of running, Trent lifted a hand. He held three needle-like darts fanned out in his fingers. Martin instinctively threw himself into a roll as Trent snapped his wrist and sent the darts flying. When Martin came to his feet and saw that Trent was still just standing there, he risked a look backward.

The Bear's roaring was a constant sound, but that bellow had more urgency to it now. The Forest Monarch was shaking its head wildly from side to side, and blood trailed down from its tightly clenched eyelids. Martin skidded to a halt.

"Did you blind it?" The Thief shouted.

"Doubtful, but at least it's holding still now!" Trent answered. Six more darts appeared in his hands, and he proceeded to send them towards the Bear. The first two bounced off the Monarch's jowls. Then Trent found the pattern to his weaving. The following four stuck to the roof of the Bear's mouth and the back of its throat.

The Beast's jaws worked furiously, seeking to dislodge the irritants, and Trent almost cheered out loud when it swallowed. It was not time to celebrate yet. It remained to be seen just how effective poison from the leaves of Terah's Mercy were. Trent wasn't entirely sure the plant would harm the Beast given its bulk.

"No, not blind, just angrier!" Trent called to Martin as the Bear's

reddened eyes popped open, "You should start running again!"

Martin was infuriated by Trent's words but had no chance to reply. The Monarch charged for him again, and Martin was forced to scurry for his life. Trent followed the pair to resume chipping away at the Beast.

He lost track of time, focused as he was on his task. Trent felt like he was caught up in an endless training drill that Sergeant Cullen had devised for him. Slash, Triple Slash, Flash Strike, used again and again, drained his SP faster than Endurance could restore it. When combined with Dash and Steady Footing that Trent needed to keep using to remain on his feet and in range, it was exactly the kind of torture that Cullen delighted in.

When the Bear stood on its hind legs, bellowing in agony, Trent's mind was too clouded with exhaustion to realize what was happening. He continued his assault, grateful for the chance to stand still. He wasn't halfway through the leg yet, not even a quarter. He was sure he would be allowed a break when he reached the halfway mark.

The Forest Monarch turned its attention to the Swordsman for the first time as it wobbled unsteadily. A lazy backhanded swipe crashed into the pest and introduced him to the stone wall ten feet away. A cracking sound brought a gleam to the Beast's eyes as the Swordsman crumpled to the ground. Then the Bear collapsed, not even aware that it had swallowed its own death.

Trent's left arm was broken in three places. He was sure of that; he had heard the individual cracks as they occurred. His head rang, and his body did not want to respond to his commands. He struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the various pains that plagued him. His right hand patted his torso as three blurry versions of Martin stalked towards him.

Blinking, Trent managed to focus his eyes as Martin reached down and picked up the sword Trent had dropped during his impromptu flight. The Thief shook his head as he regarded the boy from a dozen feet away.

"Don't know how you did it, kid." Martin's chest still heaved from running, and he took a moment to get his breath under control. "But it's no good winning if you end up like that. You are vulnerable again, and this time

a little Fire won't save you. Any last words?"

"Yes," Trent said, lifting his right hand. He frowned, seeing the tremble in it and concentrated until he was certain his fingers were under his command. Then he let the arm drop.

He wanted to explain to Martin how useless it was talking with someone you planned to kill. The man was older than Trent; it was a lesson he should have already learned. Trent did not understand how the Kindred had survived so long jabbering away as he did. In the end, Trent left the words unspoken. It would be hypocritical and pointless to say anything.

Quest, Kill Martin Vane, completed. Awarded 2000 Experience, you may collect further rewards, 2 pieces of Witching Hour Set, Unknown.

You have cleared the Trial, the Moonlit Forest. You have completed all objectives for a Perfect Clear. Awarded 5000 Experience. You may

claim your reward.

Martin had collapsed, a bone dart through his left eye. As happy as Trent was to read his notifications, that dart made him scowl. He had been aiming for Martin's right eye! It looked like his Throw Skill still needed some work. Had Martin been less exhausted or had invested more in Constitution, missing by an inch could have meant Trent's death rather than the Rogue's.

Between the corpses of Martin and the Forest Monarch, Trent caught sight of two chests glittering in the pale light. One gold chest, and one silver, containing the promised rewards earned. Trent snuffed the spark of interest those chests inspired and, cradling his left arm, leaned back against the cold stone wall.

Only he could open those boxes, and they would wait until he did so. For now, he was safe. None could enter here, and all his enemies were slain. Trent's eyes slid shut as he gave himself over to the sleep, which was the true reward he had earned.

Chapter Seventeen A yelp next to him caused Trent's eyes to pop open, and he struggled to

sit upright, jostling his broken arm. Beside him, Dreq leaped up and placed his paws against the fracture near his shoulder, trying to lick Trent's face with his long tongue. Trent started to push the Dog away when a low growl stopped him.

"Rinse your gloves before you touch anything you care about, Hunter." The voice was gruff and hoarse, matching the aged wolfish face that pushed itself before Trent. "A single leaf of Terah's gift is enough to kill a Dire Bear. The residue transferred from your palms is what finished the blood traitor, as much as your toothpick."

The man stood from a crouch and kicked Martin's body away, "Wipe your hands against the grass, that should clean them, but do it thoroughly! The poison left will kill you and the pup if it comes in contact with your skin."

Trent scrubbed his right glove against the grass and studied the man who could only be the Trial's Keeper. Long scraggly white hair hung past the Keeper's shoulders, and his bare torso was scarred front and back. He sniffed disdainfully at Martin's body and bent to retrieve Trent's sword. Wiping the hilt against the hide rags that covered his lower half, the Keeper tossed Trent's blade beside the boy, almost hitting Dreq.

The pup growled, and the man responded with a predatory grin before telling Trent, "Both hands, Hunter! Scrub both hands well! Terah's Mercy should not be underestimated! The goddess created a Basic Herb capable of killing Greater Beasts and Advanced Class holders. That potency has claimed the lives of many hunters who used it carelessly."

The Keeper chuckled as Trent ignored him and took his water skin from his belt. Trent poured water over his left glove and used a piece of hide from Storage to wipe the moisture away from a hand that was unlikely to move on its own.

"Soil and grass are better cleansers, in this case, Hunter." The Keeper knelt down to sniff at Trent's palms. "But that will do." Grabbing Trent's shirt, the Keeper hoisted the boy to his feet. One bushy eyebrow raised when Trent did not protest the rough treatment with an agonized wail.

"You that tough? Or has the pain robbed you of your senses?" Trent refrained from answering the Keeper's question. His arm hurt, of

course it did, but he had walked through a wall of fire. Broken bones were a mild bruise compared to having Fairy magic tearing at your soul. Trent's Endurance and prior introductions to the intricacies of physical harm allowed him to ignore most of the complaints of his unresponsive limb for the moment.

"Is there a cure for broken bones in there?" Trent asked, nodding at the reward chests.

"No." The Keeper slipped behind Trent and pushed him towards the Dire Bear's corpse. "You should know the Trial Spirit's quirks well enough to tell where your medicine lies. If there is medicine to be had."

The Keeper waited to hear Trent's aggrieved comments. The old Kindred hadn't interacted with any besides the Spirit of the Trial for so long, and he was eager to play this game of instruction. When the boy bound his arm to his side with Dreq's satchel and drew his knife to Harvest the Beast, without a word, the Keeper was as impressed as he was disappointed.

He cleared his throat as Trent looked for the best place to begin cutting into a creature wider than he was tall. "The Quest rewards, Hunter," the Keeper offered. "Check the silver chest first."

Sheathing Sorrow, Trent knelt next to the silver box, the motion finally jarring his arm enough to draw a grunt from his lips. The Keeper's smile faded as he watched the silent, injured boy open his reward with a single hand. The boy had more than earned the Keeper's respect, and had it been within his power, the silver chest would have held the restorative that Trent desired.

Instead of a potion, however, Trent pulled out a white and black leather jerkin to match the trousers and boots he already wore. Underneath, a half shirt of grey chainmail that would attach to the jerkin and protect Trent's shoulders and upper torso completed the Witching Hour set. Both were set aside, and Trent wrapped his fingers around the last item.

Mithril Harvesting Knife

Rare Item/Great Quality

Provides 5 bonus to Harvesting Skill It was a tool and, regarding the purpose for which it had been made, it far

exceeded anything Trent had on hand. It made cutting easier. It didn't help with the one-handed climbing Trent had to do to skin the Bear. The Keeper met the expressionless look Trent tossed him from behind the featureless mask with a smirk. He omitted telling the boy that the knife was all the aid he was allowed to receive to see the Hunt meet its proper conclusion.

The Keeper sank cross-legged to the ground. When Dreq came close, dragging Trent's forgotten blade by the hilt, the Keeper took the wooden sword from the pup's jaws and settled the squirming Dog on his lap. Dreq was able to see the Keeper, connected as he was to Trent through Leadership, but he showed no signs of amazement or gratitude, snapping at the man's fingers and whining to join Trent.

Trent, however, was grateful for the Wolfkin's actions. Standing waist- deep in entrails, separating all the useful bits of the Dire Bear was unpleasant enough without Dreq leaping in to swim in Bear guts. Normally, Trent would have skinned the Beast first, but the Bear's mass and his broken arm made that impossible. The whole task would have been inconceivable if not for the Mithril Knife, allowing a hint of gratitude to slip into Trent's feelings toward the Keeper.

Holding his breath as he stepped on intestines, Trent cut out and Stored the Core, heart, liver, and kidneys of the Dire Bear. Huge slabs of meat joined the organs, as Trent Appraised each bit and tossed the rest aside. Very little made it into the discard pile, and it was hours later, when he had finished disassembling the Bear's skeleton, that Trent started cutting the hide into manageable squares.

When the last square entered Storage, the leftover bits disappeared. Or at least most of them did. The parts hanging from Trent's clothing and the blood that soaked every inch of him remained. When he finally sheathed his new knife. Self-Clean leveled twice as Trent cast the Charm to banish the filth.

Seeing a single vial of Bone Restoration almost made the process worth it. It was only after he drank the potion and the breaks in his arm set and healed that Trent managed a whistle of appreciation for the two teeth that had appeared with the restorative. They were as long as his legs and twice as long as the Bear's teeth that he had Harvested. Appraisal only revealed that they were weapons-crafting material. Trent gathered them up and grunted at their weight, wondering how high his Crafting Skill needed to be before he could do justice to these teeth.

Swinging his left arm to ease a shoulder throbbing from how stiff he'd

been holding it, Trent turned to offer a short bow to the Keeper. The Keeper acknowledged the gesture by lowering his head gravely, and then released Dreq, who spoiled the moment by biting the man's chin then running to hide behind Trent.

"You've added a fierce member to your pack, Hunter," the Keeper said, rubbing his face where tiny teeth had left an impression.

"He'll be on his own soon." Picking up the Witching Hour jerkin and Appraising it, Trent answered the Keeper over his shoulder.

Witching Hour Set Advanced Items/Excellent Quality

Armor Rating 50 when wore together Provides increased resistance to magic at night

Well-Fitted Self-Repairing

"What awaits you outside, Hunter?" The Keeper asked softly, as Trent settled his new armor into place and worked out how the chainmail shoulder- guard attached to the leather. "Traditionally, the completion of the Moonlit Hunt is marked with celebration. Is there a feast prepared for you?"

"No one is waiting for me. From here," Trent tightened a strap and pushed Dreq away as he swung his sword belt into place, "I need to supply myself and find a new sword. Other than–"

"You entered the Trial with the Truce Breaker," the Keeper cut in. He rose to his feet and kicked at Martin's body. "Is it this swine's influence that leads you to discard a loyal companion?"

"I'm not discarding Dreq!" Trent denied. He looked at the puppy sitting at his feet. "I don't know where I'm going from here, and he is very small."

"So, watch out for him, until he is bigger! That is the meaning, the duty, of pack!" Swift steps carried the Keeper to stand before Trent. "If you have learned anything from this Trial, it should be that there is strength in numbers. You would have died if not for the Truce Breaker's presence. Can one such as the cub be less useful than a blood traitor?"

"If you sever ties with the… with Dreq," The Keeper continued, "he will have to face the Trial anew. The Dog has completed no conditions on his own, even his name was a gift from–"

The Keeper paused. There was no need for him to go on. Trent gripped Sorrow in one hand and held Dreq in the crook of his left arm, as if daring the Keeper to take the Dog from him.

"He'll die in here on his own; he comes with me," Trent said resolutely. A heat filled him along with his decision, a heat that dimmed when a second warmth found his elbow. He looked down to see Dreq staring at him with ears perked up. The Dog had understood what was being said, knew that Trent had intended to leave him behind. The stream of urine that dripped from Trent's arm showed Dreq was displeased.

"I can still leave you!" Trent hissed disgustedly, dropping the Dog and casting Self-Clean. Dreq scratched his ear, unimpressed with the threat.

Trent looked to the Keeper, willing the man to issue him another Quest. Dreq had attacked him, violating the Truce! Maybe it was not enough to justify death, but a kick wouldn't kill the Dog, and teaching manners had to be the duty of pack as well! When no notification came, Trent spun on his heel and stamped to the unopened golden chest, hoping the contents would make up for the unruly pup.

Before he could open it, the Keeper called out to him, "A word of caution, Hunter! Few make it this far. Those that do sometimes find their reward burdensome."

Trent held his itching fingers back long enough to ask, "How do you mean?"

"Titles are the most common reward of the Moonlit Forest. It is why the Beasts come here, but the Kin must defeat the Guardian in order to be recognized." The Keeper stared up at the moon. "She approves of you. That may make things worse."

"Why is that?" Trent touched the chest's clasp; the slightest flip, and he would see his reward.

"I will say no more, it is not my place." The Keeper tried to convey all that the Trial's Spirit kept him from

speaking with the severity of his tone. It wasn't enough. Moonlight beamed into the chest and was broken as Trent leaned over to peer inside. A single object lay in the container. Before Trent could reach for it, a notification flooded his sight.

Let all the world know and acknowledge that the challenger, Trent Embra, now bares the Title 'Shadow Hunter!'

The object in the chest was a crystal containing 5 Free Attribute Points. It melted away as Trent touched it, leaving his hand as empty as he felt reading his new title.

"What does Shadow Hunter mean?" Trent asked the Keeper. He searched

his Status trying to find a new Skill or Ability. There was nothing, and as far as he could tell, the title did not affect anything.

"That's not a title given out often," The Keeper mused, a satisfied smile playing about his lips. "You've earned it, though. And I expect you'll discover what obligations and benefits it brings without my telling you."

The golden chest disappeared, leaving a portal behind. It shimmered and further illuminated the stone walls of the circle. Trent's question remained unanswered.

"Come on, Dreq, we should leave," Trent huffed. Dreq darted away from the portal and pounced on the sword Trent had left in the grass. His tail beat the air as he demonstrated how useful he could be, and his eyes were only a little reproachful as Trent collected his blade.

"I get it; you're smart." Trent Stored the blade, and walked back towards the portal. "I'm sorry I said you were small. Even though you are, and you steal my XP, eat my loot, piss on my–"

"Hunter Trent!" The Keeper's voice was sharp as he howled at Trent. "A moment!"

Trent was tempted to ignore the man just like the Keeper had ignored his questions, but curiosity held him in place. He looked to see the Keeper standing where Martin's body had been. The corpse was missing, and in its place, a patch of darkness coalesced into a sphere. Beside the sphere was a copper disc with a hole through the center.

"Take this… thing... with you," The Keeper tried to speak evenly, a catch of anger and disgust spoiled his attempt.

Trent shared a look with Dreq and moved to crouch before the sphere. Dreq sniffed at the ball, sneezed, and then began chomping at the grass, trying to remove a foul taste from his mouth. Trent wanted to join the Dog. Just looking at the sphere made his skin crawl and filled him with the urge to spit.

His fingers reached out, and the Keeper perked up, thinking Trent was reaching for the dark ball. It was the copper disc that Trent picked up to examine more closely. Except for the copper it was made of and the hole at its center, it resembled Trent's Guild Token. Trent turned it over and thought of tossing it aside. Deciding it might have some use, Trent tucked the Token away in the pouch he had designated for interesting but worthless items. Pleased to have started a new collection of belt pouch knickknacks, Trent returned to studying the sphere.

"What do you think it is?" Trent muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Dreq. The pup backed away, whining. "You're right, we shouldn't have anything to do with it."

"Hunter." The Keeper stepped in front of Trent to stop him from leaving. His voice turned sly. "Shadow Hunter, can you really walk away from your responsibility?"

Trent lifted his mask and pushed at his cowl. There was something inside of him that said the sphere needed to be dealt with. He scratched his head, and looked from the Keeper, to the moon, to Dreq, and back to the sphere.

"Not my responsibility, not here." Standing up, Trent's shoulder brushed the Keeper's as he stepped past with Dreq happily dancing around his feet. The Keeper's hand latched on to his arm, pulling him to a halt.

When violet eyes turned his way, the Keeper found himself unable to speak. Trent was right; he had no obligation to help. The Trial was the Keeper's to protect. Seeing the way Dreq's hackles raised and Trent's hand closed over the pommel of his knife, he realized the two had no intention of aiding him.

The Keeper started to release Trent's arm, and then the location of the sphere came to him. The Guardian's den. The sphere was a Trace of divinity, something that could not remain. Its presence could corrupt the Trial itself, starting with the Guardian. Judging from Dreq's reaction to the Trace, the Keeper would be unable to convince a Beast to carry it for him, and few came to the center of the Trial anyway. That left Trent.

"A Quest," the Keeper whispered hoarsely, desperately. "A Quest to remove–"

"I've cleared the Trial. Can you still offer me Quests?" Trent's head tilted to the side, and Dreq mimicked him, allowing his tongue to flop out of his mouth for emphasis. The Keeper's eyes drifted skyward as he consulted with the Trial's Spirit.

"I cannot offer a Quest," he said, his mouth dry, "but I can give you a reward."

"How is that different from offering a Quest?" Trent pulled his arm free and tugged his cowl up. He wanted to be gone from this place.

"No Experience," came the explanation, "a physical reward only. One that will appeal to you, I swear it!"

Hidden behind his mask, Trent bit his lip. Desperation shone from the Keeper's eyes, begging him to help and tugging at Trent's conscience. "What

is that thing anyway? Will it harm me?" "No!" The word exploded from the Keeper's mouth. "No! It isn't safe,

and you shouldn't leave it near anything you care about, but it will not hurt you!"

A beam of moonlight, brighter than all else, stabbed into the Keeper's face. Wincing, he added, "However, you should be rid of it as you soon as you are able. And even in Storage, there are those that might sense it." The Keeper was reluctant to say anything that might convince Trent to walk away but pushed out a warning, nonetheless.

"Not safe in Storage." Trent took a step back, a refusal on his tongue when a thought occurred to him. "Would it be safe in a Trial chest?"

The Keeper snorted. "No, not unless the chest was separated from the Trial. Otherwise it would corrupt the Spirit even faster. A reward chest is–"

A golden chest thudded onto the ground, and Dreq sniffed at it as the Keeper's eyes threatened to bulge out of his head.

"What about this one?" Trent asked, pushing the inquisitive pup away from the box. Dreq tried to slip by Trent's hand to investigate closer and was snatched up. He adjusted his legs over Trent's arm, but before a stream of indignation could be released, a hand tightening around his windpipe convinced Dreq to hold his bladder for a later argument.

"How do you have this? It shouldn't be possible," the Keeper muttered. Unlike Dreq, the Keeper stepped back, uneasy to see a piece of another Trial sitting in his own.

"Will it keep the… what is it that I'd be carrying?" "It is separated. It will work!" The Keeper sidestepped Trent's question

and hurriedly pushed him towards the sphere. "Put it in the box and get the chest back into your Storage. Quickly! Neither of these things should be here."

Trent found himself pushing the sphere into the chest and closing it without argument. Dreq took the opportunity to peek inside the lid while he could, and his ears perked up at seeing the books the chest contained.

Trent started to Store the container away and then paused, causing the Keeper to shout, "What are you waiting for?"

"My reward." Trent had learned. There were times when Beasts could be trusted, and men could not. He knew the Keeper and the Trial were bound by rules of their own but had no idea what those rules were. He was prepared to dump open the chest and leave the Keeper with both the sphere and box at the

first sign of a blood-red jewel. "Here, take them and go!" The Keeper pushed two small white crystals at

him, and Trent's eyes lit up. Those Crystals he recognized as holding Skill and Attribute Points, and he accepted them readily.

He stored the chest away and with a guilty voice said, "I didn't mean to–" "There is no need to explain, Trent Embra." The Keeper's hand settled on

Trent's shoulder, relief plain in his voice. "A Hunter must be wary of traps, both those set by others, and the ones he lays himself. Now, go!"

Trent was flung backward through the portal by a clawed hand. Outside the Trial, he lay sprawled and dazed on the ground. Before the portal closed, the Keeper had offered one last piece of advice. "Strength in numbers, Hunter. The Trials are drawn to you, and others will come for the Trace. Prepare!"

Chapter Eighteen "Prepare for what?" Trent shouted back, sitting up. "What's a Trace?" Dreq wriggled out of his arms and barked at the closing portal. When the

shimmering doorway vanished, he kicked up dirt with his hind legs and turned to Trent to receive the praise he had earned for chasing off the insufferable glowing gateway.

"What's a Trace?" Trent repeated to the Dog, receiving a bewildered sigh in response. "Right, how should you know."

Picking himself up, Trent checked his weapons belt to make sure nothing had come loose and looked around. He was back where he had been before entering the Trial, on an animal track a few miles from Bellrise. The sun was high in the sky, and there was a distinctive chill in the air. Not as bad as in the Moonlit Forest, but Trent expected that night would bring frost with it.

"He said not to leave it near anything I care about. Probably better not abandon the thing here," Trent muttered. Dreq disagreed and began digging a hole in the trail. Once it was deep enough to contain the sphere, he bounced in place, urging Trent to be rid of his burden.

"No, we'll keep it for now. We'll take it deeper into the Wilds before we bury it." Trent clutched his hands around the Crystals he had received as payment and absorbed them. "5 Free Attribute Points and 5 Skill Points. Not a bad haul."

Trent said the words and tried to convince himself but with the urgency the Keeper had used to throw him from the Trial, he wondered if they were true. "Let's head to Bellrise. We need to restock for a trip into the Wilds."

Dreq stretched up to place his paw against Trent's knee, begging to be picked up. Trent nudged him away. "I can't carry you all the time! You have to get stronger on your own."

Dreq yawned and his tail swished. "You have access to your Status now. What Level are you?" Trent

muttered to himself, checking Dreq's particulars through Leadership's link. Name: Dreq Age: 9 weeks Animal: Dog Level: 8 Health: 30 Stamina: 30 Mana: 50 Strength: 3 Intelligence: 5

"How are you alive?" Trent asked the Dog, exasperated. He had never seen a Status so empty. Dreq should have been killed just falling down too hard in the Moonlit Forest! Dreq laid flat, covering his nose with his paws and whimpering.

Trent felt ashamed of himself. Squatting down, he scratched the top of Dreq's head. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault. You're young. Do you have Attribute Points to spend?"

Dreq sat up, panting, and leaned into Trent's hand. "You must have a few, you've stolen enough of my XP. Spend them and we'll be going."

Dreq's hackles raised and he shook his whole body.

"You won't spend them?" Trent interpreted the Dog's actions. "Why not?"

Dreq scratched at the dirt, leaving a broken line, then pounced in a half circle.

"Your Status isn't complete, and you want to–" At first Trent was engrossed in the Dog's explanation. Taking a closer look at the rough line, he saw nothing there to show him what Dreq was trying to convey. He was just filling in details to make sense of nonsense on his own.

"Well if you can't or won't add your Attribute Points, you'll build your Strength walking!" Trent straightened up. "Its not fun, but it works. Believe me, I know. Let's get going." Dreq didn't follow when Trent stepped away, and before Trent went very far, he heard a yip behind him. A yip that nearly sounded like a word. Turning back, Trent saw Dreq yawning again.

The Dog growled, and then barked, "Carry!"

Trent's hands went to his hips. "I'm not… you can talk!"

He checked Dreq's Status again. The Dog's Intelligence had risen to 8. "You will spend Points to beg a ride but not on Strength!"

"Carrrry," Dreq howled in his deepest puppy voice, his eyes wide and plaintive. Trent was unimpressed. Dreq's ears drooped as Trent's lips hardened into a tight smile.

"I will carry you," Trent said sweetly, "after your SP is depleted from training. I saw an exercise I think will help you. I'm not sure what it's called, but we can do it together. You chase me. If you manage to catch up and touch my leg, I'll chase you."

"Carry?" Dreq repeated, tilting his head.

"Not convinced? Fine, I'll start, but if you refuse to train, you walk the whole way yourself! Run!"

Dreq still didn't move, which was a mistake. Trent followed his words with action. Darting forward, he swiped at Dreq, sending the puppy rolling into the brush. When the Dog came out again, with teeth bared, Trent shouted for Dreq to catch him and took off at a jog.

He kept the pace to one Dreq could match without catching up, and the Dog's furious barking told Trent that Dreq knew he was being teased. Trent stumbled to give the pup hope, then rolled and burst away, increasing his lead. Looking back over his shoulder to grin at the animal, Trent was startled to find the trail empty.

When Dreq appeared a second later in a dark flash, his teeth clamping onto Trent's hand, Trent almost flung him away. Dreq growled victoriously, then whined and dropped to the ground, his Stamina and Mana depleted using the Skill he had gotten from the Shadow Wererat.

"That's cheating!" Trent expelled the word, but the grin on his face said he was satisfied with the results.

"If you want to use Skills, we will!" He reached down and pinched the exhausted Dog's ear, "Mine don't wear me out like that though, so I don't think you'll like the change in rules. You're still the chaser."

After Dreq recovered from his stunt, which he did faster than Trent

expected, the training resumed. The pair left the trail and zigzagged through the trees. Trent used Acrobatics and Enhanced Jump, avoiding bushes and stumps by running along fallen timbers. Dreq was forced to plow through or run beside him, only getting his revenge by using the paralyzing Skill, Howl, which caught Trent and made the boy stumble.

Howl left Dreq with plenty of energy, and he managed to escape for a full five seconds before Trent tapped him as the boy sailed pass the pup with a one-handed flip. Dreq clambered after Trent, doggedly, as he resumed his role as chaser.

There were few Beasts this close to Bellrise; low-leveled Adventurers from the local Academy saw to that. Those predators that were drawn to the sound of barking and laughing were scared off by a single hard look from Trent. Violet eyes found them no matter how they concealed themselves.

Trent had no desire to kill the Beasts who were much weaker than he was. That changed when an enraged Striped Fox attacked him while Dreq's SP was recovering from a long period of running. A bone dart snuffed the life from the Level 3 creature before it got within ten feet. Harvesting the Beast, Trent discovered that eating fresh meat restored Dreq's Stamina much quicker than resting. After that, nearby Beasts sacrificed themselves for Dreq's training every time the pup's energy started to flag.

The duo did not make it to Bellrise that day. They were several miles further from the town when Trent called a halt and made camp near a small waterfall. The day had been productive, increasing Trent's supply of Beast Cores and pelts, along with his Throw Skill and Prepare Hides Charm.

And Dreq unlocked the Attribute, Agility, in his Status. Trent had discovered that when the use of Howl along with a sudden increase in the Dog's speed, caused the two to reverse roles, briefly. Trent pondered what other Attributes the Dog might have while Dreq gnawed at the horn of the Horned Hare Trent was attempting to roast for dinner.

Dreq lacked Constitution, but he did have HP, so Trent wasn't sure if animals needed that Attribute or if it was something they gained when they became Beasts. But then, wasn't Dreq a Beast already? He could speak, even

though his vocabulary was currently limited to carry, meat, and Trent. Animals were not supposed to speak. That was something only high-leveled Beasts could do, not Level 8 Dogs.

Dreq turned up his nose when Trent offered him a piece of charred Hare and settled into Trent's lap to sleep. Trent almost tossed the meat aside, too, when he bit into it. He really needed to learn to cook at some point. If cooking were a Skill, he would need to buy it the first chance he had.

There was still so much both he and Dreq needed to learn, and no one Trent could ask for help. Bellrise would have answers and supplies, and, while Trent wasn't anxious to return to the town where he had met Martin Vane, he knew he needed to. Tomorrow.

Considering different ways to train Dreq and going over all the things he would need to buy in Bellrise, Trent drifted to sleep, leaning against a tree. The water of the creek played a lullaby for the worn-out pair of Adventurers. A breeze teased Trent's hair, causing it to drape across his face. In the fading light of the day, the sleeping boy looked his age, an age few would believe he carried, seeing the warrior's build his body had taken on.

Dreq woke with a yawn a few hours later. He stood and stretched languidly before looking around. A quarter moon hung in the sky, much smaller than the one that had lit the Trial. Pale moonlight barely made it to the ground as it filtered through tree branches. The nearby creek babbled happily, accompanied by the croaks of frogs and the chirping of insects.

Dreq was hungry. It was hunger that woke him and hunger that led him to contemplate just how upset Trent would be if he nipped his chin to beg for a meal. The steady rise and fall of Trent's chest convinced him to let the boy sleep. It was the most peaceful Dreq had ever seen Trent.

His tail wagged as he stared into the boy's face. Trent was good. He played a little rough, and he spoke harshly on occasion, but Dreq did not mind that. He had been pushed into the Hunter's Trial and commanded to find something good, and he had. He had found Trent.

Most of Dreq's memories were of his father's voice. Before his eyes opened, before he could walk or eat solid food, Dreq had listened to his father speak of the Infinite World. While he tumbled with his siblings, he had learned of Statuses and Trials. A lot of what he heard went over his head, but some had stuck.

The last thing he remembered hearing before being shoved into the Hunter's Trial was that something good waited for him inside. It was a fuzzy memory for Dreq. His mind hadn't become sharp until after Trent gave him a name. Still, the recollection was there. Looking for that good thing was what had kept him moving in the Trial when all he really wanted to do was curl up and whimper.

He would have died in the Trial had he not found Trent. Though his father had cast a Spell that would nullify most of the damage he took, that blessing couldn't last forever. It had completely worn off by the time his body was crushed beneath the claws of a Trial Beast.

He was unprotected now, and that was alright. He had Trent to rely on! And Trent was strong! Much stronger than he should be, given how young he smelled. The boy couldn't be much older than he was. It was puzzling, but solving the riddle was easy enough for one of Dreq's kind.

He and Trent were still in a party together, bound by Trent's Leadership Skill. Feeling for the connection that linked him to Trent, Dreq followed it back to the boy's center. The invisible line stretched from Dreq's chest and ended at Trent, and what he found nearly caused Dreq to forget what he was about.

There was a pit in Trent's soul! Dreq snarled, seeing the jagged hole where a piece of the boy had been gouged out! It smelled of malignant intent and deep, old, power. In a way, it reminded Dreq of his father, but without the conscience that kept the old Beast in check.

Dreq knew that this wound was what caused Trent to keep him at arm's length. Dreq smoothed out the edges of the hole with his Mana, mentally licking at it like he would a bleeding cut. For good measure, he wrapped a bit of Mana around the link he shared with Trent to prevent the boy from

severing it. It would take time to heal this wound, and Dreq did not want to risk being left behind like Trent had threatened to do.

When his Mana ran low, Dreq returned to his original purpose. He dug around in Trent's psyche until he found what he was looking for, Trent's Status. What he read caused Dreq's mind to go blank for a moment. His father had told him what to expect when confronting those that called themselves Awakened, and Trent crushed all his expectations.

Dreq could only compare Trent to his father's lessons and the Thief, Martin Vane. Dreq had only gotten a few glimpses and the slightest sniff of the Truce Breaker after receiving his name, but except for a darkness that hung about the Thief, Martin had been normal enough.

Without a link to the man, Dreq had surmised that Martin had a smattering of Skills and that his highest Attribute was Agility. In all ways besides Agility, Trent made Martin look like a newborn pup, still suckling at his mother's teat. A little more digging told Dreq why that was.

Skills! An Awakened of Trent's level should have at most five or six Skills, and according to Dreq's father, those Skills wouldn't be too developed. Trent had far more Skills than he should, and leveling them had provided him with Attributes that mocked Martin at his higher Level.

Dreq's tail began to wag faster. He had found something good, indeed! His Mana had recovered, and Dreq used it to solidify the link he shared with Trent. Like all his kind, once Dreq latched on to a treasure, it would take a miracle to pry loose his jaws!

Having found the answers he was seeking, Dreq would have left Trent's secrets alone if his nose hadn't caught a scent that his stomach begged him to pay attention to. Dreq opened Trent's Storage before his mind could catch up with his instincts. Drool leaked from his muzzle at the contents that appeared before him.

All of Trent's spoils from the Trial were there for the taking. Most importantly was the Dire Bear meat, fresh and still warm, more than Dreq could eat in a year! Trent wouldn't mind if Dreq took a few mouthfuls! And

that Core held a Skill that Dreq could use. That should probably come out as well.

His better sense, and the thought of Trent cursing him for a thief while kicking at him, stopped Dreq's greed. Not only would Trent notice that his treasures were missing, Dreq was almost certain Trent would dissolve the party the moment he knew his Storage was vulnerable. Reluctantly, Dreq retreated back into his own mind.

He knew he couldn't take things without Trent's permission. Unless Dreq woke him, he would have to find his own meal. Not a problem. Dreq was a named Beast, and these woods were his pantry and playground!

Hopping down from Trent's lap, Dreq began his hunt. Soon, he had discovered his first victim. A frog, fat and complacent, sat obliviously croaking at the edge of the creek. It would never see its doom approaching. Dreq padded forward with hackles raised, hoping the frog would put up a fearsome battle before inevitably succumbing.

The frog leaped into the creek as Dreq pounced. One vanished into the flowing water, and the other splashed himself when his front paws slapped down. Mud splattered up Dreq's legs and his jaws snapped shut on air, his first solo hunt ending in failure.

He had been too slow! As he backed out of the water, shaking himself dry, Dreq considered adding a few Attribute Points to Agility and Strength. However, he shook that idea away with the liquid droplets. His Status wasn't entirely unlocked yet, and he had already wasted 3 Attribute Points gaining the Intelligence to express himself in a way Trent couldn't ignore.

And that had been a wasted effort. Trent had understood him well enough before, though the boy had denied it. The dubious ability to speak the common tongue had only given Trent the chance to turn down Dreq's reasonable request for a ride.

Dreq threw a short quiet bark at the cowardly frog while scanning for a less alert snack. The creek bank was empty, and no tasty treat presented itself. Lifting his nose, Dreq tested the air. Nothing. The Forest which had seemed

so alive during the day was empty at night.

At least, the vicinity nearby was empty. Dreq looked towards the source of his problems: Trent. Dreq could feel the presence of a Permanent Trial nearby, which meant this area would only contain low-leveled animals and Beasts, creatures which could sense from a distance the threat posed by a slumbering Trent. They could smell his new Title and hear the call of the Hunter's Trial that lingered about him. There were some that might attack out of fear when Trent drew too close, but given the chance, the Forest's inhabitants would steer clear.

This meant Dreq would need to venture into the night to find a snack. Slinking into the brush, Dreq set his nose and ears to work. His eyes weren't much use in the thick vegetation, and he could barely see more than a few feet ahead in the dark. Dreq didn't let that stop him. Creeping along on his belly, Dreq searched.

The Spiked Wood Rat wasn't exactly the prey he was seeking. Two feet long, with a row of long, sharp tines bristling from its spine and tail, the Beast was a scavenger, not the mighty opponent Dreq hoped to find. Still, he had never eaten one before, and as a nocturnal animal, its Core might hold the Night Sight Ability. Dreq steeled himself for the attack.

Dreq's small stature and light weight allowed him to approach silently, but the pup was hardly a stealthy hunter. His back rubbed against leaves and branches as he rushed forward with jaws snapping. The Wood Rat heard him coming before Dreq could issue the challenging bray that gathered in his throat.

His eyes went wide as the Spiked Rat lifted its tail and flung barbed projectiles towards the unsuspecting animal. One of the barbed tines lunged into Dreq's hindquarters as he tried to dodge, drawing a yelp along with blood, and knocking the pup from his feet.

Special Action Performed, Constitution 1.

The notification that unlocked a portion of his Status would have been welcome under other circumstances, but Dreq dreaded to see it now. Without

Constitution, his Strength had determined his Health and Stamina, and now with the new Attribute, instead of growing, both his HP and SP were cut by two-thirds. His Health dropped to 8 out of 10, and a wave of pain and exhaustion swept through him.

Without Stamina to support the use of his Paralyzing Howl, Dreq was left with one option. He tucked his tail between his legs, ignored the burning sensation in his haunches, and ran. The hissing of the Spiked Rat prompted him to greater speeds as the agitated rodent pursued him.

His nose was clouded by the smell of blood and the odor of the Rat, but Dreq could still make out Trent's scent. Yelping as loud as he could, the cub ran in his protector's direction. It seemed he would need to wake Trent after all. He should have just taken the bear meat in the first place.

Running blindly, Dreq was poked and prodded by branches, and his Stamina drained rapidly. He wasn't going to make it! Trent was too far away. Would the boy know to burn his body and scatter his ashes? Would he miss Dreq's company? Would there even be a body to take care of, or would Dreq end his short life in the belly of a creature that was hardly more than an animal?

Dreq felt another spike ripple the air, narrowly missing his ear. The Rat was growing tired of the chase. Only, had that spike been going the wrong direction? There was a thud behind him and the sound of a body tumbling backward. Risking a look over his shoulder caused Dreq to stumble, and he collapsed.

Panting in fear, the pup squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end. He did not have the energy to run any further, and he did not have the Strength to fight. Nor did he have the need, apparently.

A hand gripped the fur of his neck and lifted Dreq from the ground. Opening his eyes, Dreq found himself looking at Trent. Violet eyes were half-open, and Trent barely seemed aware of his actions, as he plucked the spike from Dreq's rear and cast Balm to heal the minor hurt. Tucking the Dog in the crook of his arm, Trent retrieved the body of the Spiked Wood Rat, and Dreq saw one of Trent's darts protruding from between the Beast's eyes.

Justice! The miserable creature suffered the exact fate it had intended for the pup, and Dreq howled in victory, his tail thudding against Trent's side. Even being dropped to the ground when Trent returned to his rest spot couldn't dampen Dreq's mood. His first real hunt had been a success!

Trent reclaimed his dart, and Dreq watched in amazement as a mithril knife Harvested the hide and Core of the Rat. Trent never fully woke as he went about his task. When he finished, he tossed the remains into the bushes and settled back against the tree, his chin dropping to his chest.

Dreq pulled the wasted meat back out of the brush and settled in for his snack, his eyes glowing as he chomped and pulled on Rat entrails. Trent had fallen asleep without checking his Status, leaving Dreq to do it for him. Trent had leveled his Throwing Skill, gained a point in Dexterity, and learned Clever Hands, all with half-closed eyes.

Dreq chewed and chortled delightedly. His own growth was disappointing, but with Trent looking out for him, it did not matter. Trent was something good, and that was enough.

Finishing the Rat, Dreq chewed on a patch of grass. The scavenger had been a sour meal and left a bitter taste in his mouth. Pallet cleansed, Dreq climbed into Trent's lap and turned around twice before settling in. Trent's hand fell across his back, and Dreq drifted to sleep, affectionately chewing on a gloved finger.

Chapter Nineteen Lewis Al'dross studied his reflection in the mirror. He tugged at the

ceremonial sash hanging from his shoulder and frowned when his wife, Vanessa, slapped his hand away from it. She had put a great deal of effort into getting his hair and ceremonial uniform in place. She wouldn't have Lewis playing with it.

Lewis should never have given in when Vanessa insisted on assisting him in preparing for the day's events. He should have had servants arrange his clothing and hair. A valet might offer a reproachful look when Lewis pulled the sash out of line, but he would never dare strike him. That was a privilege reserved for wives.

The lack of servants was due to the presence of the three men standing behind him, watching with varying expressions on their faces. Helmand, his personal adjutant, kept his mouth firmly closed and his eyes respectfully lowered. Taylor Craw watched with open amusement, occasionally offering suggestions to Vanessa, none of which Lewis appreciated.

The last man, Ranar Wygon, drummed his fingers on his sword hilt, his face composed, though Lewis didn't miss the twinkle that danced in the man's silver eyes. He could see that gleam clearly reflected in the mirror.

"How long has the boy been out of the Trial, Elder Wygon?" Lewis grunted as Vanessa tightened his sword belt another notch, more concerned with his image than she was his comfort.

"Not long, Your Grace." Ranar flicked a finger against his pommel. "I sensed him late last night. He hasn't moved much since then."

Lewis snatched Vanessa's hand away from his chest, stopping her from smoothing his sash. He brought the tips of her fingers to his lips, and then kept a firm hold of them as he took a step away from the mirror. "And your men say he hasn't enrolled in the Academy or entered the Bellrise Trial, Taylor?"

"No one who reports to me has caught a glimpse of him in Bellrise," Taylor responded seriously. "He must have been in a Wandering Trial."

"Had I known he was so important, I would have found a way to bring him back with me when I met him on the road," Vanessa said, pulling a hand free to adjust the way Lewis's sash hung from his shoulder. "Perhaps, next time you should include life-altering events in your messages to me."

"Perhaps the next time you are a week from home, you will inform me rather than subverting my men in order to surprise me." Lewis squeezed on the fingers he still held. "Although, I would rather Trent roam free than come to the attention of your nephew, or Colonel Bromden.

"Will you go and collect him, Elder Wygon?" Rather than rehashing the playful argument he had had with Vanessa several times, Lewis turned back to matters at hand.

Ranar ceased his drumming and rubbed his chin. "I think not. It would be best to let Trent Embra roam free, as you say. Let him come back of his own accord. The violet-eyed can be pigheaded when they think they are being forced."

"Is that wise?" Taylor shot the Al'rashian a look through narrowed eyes, "He could board a boat and be a hundred miles away before we know it. Other nobles and the king's men won't hesitate to put a leash on him once they see his potential."

"They would regret that," Ranar said shortly, refusing to elaborate.

Lewis repressed a sigh at the Elder's words. Ranar was a Paragon, an Awakened who had reached Levels over 1000. The Duke understood why the man refused to interfere or do more than advise. He could accept that, but would it kill Ranar to explain his statements? From what he had said in the past, Trent was the reason Ranar was here in the first place.

"Cullen won't like that we've kept all this from him," Taylor added, drawing attention to the Sergeant's conspicuous absence from this meeting.

"If we tell Cullen, he will be halfway to Bellrise before we finish telling him why he shouldn't go." Lewis let go of Vanessa's hand. Crossing the room to his desk, he began rummaging through it. "I need him here as long as we have Immortal company. Have you had any word on why they are still here?"

"To keep Seth out of trouble," Vanessa said dryly. "An Al'verren only leaves the capital seeking power. My brother is wise not to let him out of his sight."

"Does the fool really think he can snatch my territory out from under me?" Lewis grumbled, removing a handful of papers from a desk drawer to reveal the bottle beneath it. "Helmand, fetch me some glasses, please."

"He was raised to believe in his superiority." Vanessa settled into a free chair while Helmand hurried to find cups for his lord. "Seth won't believe he can fail no matter how many times Cullen throws his lackeys into the cells. Al'verrens are all raised that way, yet only the heir is allowed any authority. You have your ancestors to blame. They were the ones who forced a semblance of Al'rashian rules of succession on the kingdom."

Helmand returned with four glasses and set them on the desk. He poured the wine and served it. Lewis pushed his own glass into the adjutant's hands and picked up the bottle for himself. "Drink, Helmand. We have a long day ahead of us. You will need bolstering as much as I do."

"Speaking of which, Your Grace," Helmand said, sipping at his wine politely before setting it aside, "we should be leaving shortly. Everything should be prepared by now."

Lewis took a long pull from the bottle and then a second as he thought of what awaited him in the Great Hall. Many perks came with standing atop the local hierarchy. Unfortunately, those perks came along with responsibility. He would have to make a speech today. People would expect it.

He had no choice. Today he was appointing three mayors and conferring the rank of Minor Nobility on a Knight in his service. That meant ceremony. If it were up to Lewis, he would meet with the four in private and toast them

before sending them off to build three towns and a fortress on the banks of the Burning Lake.

He blamed Cullen. The Sergeant had brought word that the mysterious lake was actually a Trial and dumped the information in Lewis's lap. Lewis had not wanted to believe it at first. The lake had been studied by generations of Mages. It was inconceivable that no one had commissioned a Diviner to examine the body of water.

Lewis shuddered to think of a Trial of Perseverance, sitting on the border, unguarded and unchallenged for centuries. Not only was it an untapped resource, officially it was outside of the area the Al'dross family controlled. According to kingdom law, any man could have claimed it and received a title from the king to establish his own territory a stone's throw from Lewis's land.

Pushing out his borders and building four new settlements was a minor headache compared to the thought of a man like Seth Al'verren living in his backyard. Seth missing out on the opportunity was enough to soothe Lewis somewhat. While the man who wanted to style himself a prince was scheming to seize Lewis's lands, a perfect chance to create his own legacy had passed him by.

Normally, a man establishing a new fiefdom would need his own troops to control it. After planting his own flag, Seth could have depended on his father's name and Al'dross soldiers while he slowly built his authority. He could have sat back and sneered as Guardsmen from Al'drossford beat back Bandits and Beasts for him. It wasn't like Lewis could allow raiding to happen so close to his territory.

Lewis took another fortifying drink and set the bottle down. "Let's get on with it then. Do you think Seth will attend? I hope so. Watching his face crumble when he realizes what he has missed out on will be the best part of this day."

"You still haven't managed to find out what this farce is about?" Seth