Forged By Falcrest

Thane watched as the last group disappeared over the ridge, their forms fading into the sprawling valley below. The crisp morning air bit at his face, but he hardly noticed. His sharp eyes lingered on the horizon, scanning the treeline as if searching for some lingering doubt about the task ahead.

A faint sound of crunching snow pulled his attention. Without turning, he spoke. "You always did like sneaking up on people, Striker Torren."

From the shadows of the nearby tree line, Torren emerged, his imposing figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the snow-covered terrain. His cloak, dusted with frost, hung heavily over his broad shoulders, and his ever-serious expression gave him the air of a predator lying in wait.

"Thane," Torren greeted with a curt nod, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of weariness.

"How many didn't make it to the top?" Thane asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Torren's jaw tightened slightly, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of frustration and resignation. "One group. A bear got them. They were too loud, too careless." He paused for a beat, then added, "gruesome sight."

Thane let out a slow breath, his lips curling into a faint, sad smile. "Pity," he said quietly, his voice tinged with genuine regret. "But that's what this is for, after all."

Torren nodded, his expression dark. "We have a strong batch this year," he admitted. "Their clans and families have been pushing them harder than ever. Hungry for power, for prestige. Forcing their children to become stronger, faster, better… at any cost." His voice dropped, heavy with disdain. "It makes me sick."

Thane glanced at him, his usually calm demeanor shifting ever so slightly. "That's exactly what we're doing, isn't it? Turning them into tools. Just like we were."

Torren snorted, a sound that was equal parts bitter and resigned. "Exactly. Makes me sick," he repeated, his voice sharper this time.

There was a moment of silence between them, the wind whistling softly through the trees. Thane shifted his weight, his boots crunching against the snow as he turned to fully face Torren.

"Speaking of clans and their hunger for power," Thane began, his voice dropping to a quieter tone, "The Dranenfelds family have been making moves. They want to solidify their bloodline, and it seems they've found a way to do it."

Torren's brow furrowed, his sharp features darkening. "How?"

"Little Aaron has been betrothed to Rea Valerant," Thane said simply. "They're trying to create a new bloodline, merging their abilities. The Drakenfelds have been talking about it for years, and now they've finally pulled the strings to make it happen. If they can merge the Valerants venom blood with their drakenform…. No one will be able to oppose them."

Torren let out a low growl, his disdain for the politics of the clans clear. "Of course they have. Aaron's arrogance makes sense now—he's playing the part of the future heir to some perfect bloodline." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Rea doesn't strike me as the type to go along with something like that willingly."

Thane shrugged. "She's young. She might not have a choice. The Valerants have been losing their standing, and this alliance could secure their future. A marriage like this isn't about the individuals involved—it's about the power it brings to their clans."

Torren's expression hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. "It disgusts me. Using children like pawns, breeding them like cattle for abilities they don't even understand yet."

Thane nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the horizon. "That's the world we live in, Torren. And it's the world we're training them to survive in."

Torren exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Thane glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "No. But it does mean you have to teach them to play the game better than anyone else."

Torren snorted again, shaking his head as he turned to leave. "Let's just hope they don't end up like us."

Thane watched him go, his expression unreadable. The wind picked up, carrying with it the faint echoes of voices from the valley below. He straightened his posture, his sharp gaze narrowing as he turned back toward the summit.

"Like us," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the wind. "Or worse."

***

Atlas crouched low, he studied the Direfang Lynx lounging ahead. The beast lay half-buried in the snow, its sleek silver coat blending seamlessly with the frosty landscape. Its sharp teeth glinted in the weak sunlight as it breathed steadily, its sides rising and falling in a deceptive rhythm of calm. Despite its relatively small size—it barely reached the height of his knees—the air around it seemed to ripple faintly with mana. It seemed to glow a slight reddish black colour. The sheer presence of the beast made Atlas's stomach tighten.

To his left, Kara and Marcus had already moved into position, flanking the creature from the side. Their dark forms were barely visible among the snow-covered trees, and he knew they were waiting for his signal to move. That thought did little to settle the growing sense of dread in his chest.

He had decided, after much internal debate, that he hated this plan. Absolutely despised it. Why the hell did he have to be the bait?

Atlas shifted his weight slightly, his boots crunching softly against the snow as he prepared himself. His golden eyes flicked back to the lynx, its ears twitching occasionally as it rested. He cursed his own skills—not for the first time. If he hadn't pushed himself so hard on the obstacle course, trying to prove a point, maybe Kara wouldn't have pegged him as the fastest in the group.

"Curse my luck," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible even to himself. "And curse Kara for coming up with this plan."

The lynx's tail flicked lazily, its body stretched out as if it had nothing to fear. Atlas clenched his fists, steadying his breathing. He knew better than to underestimate it. A mana beast wasn't just strong—it was intelligent, cunning. Even in its apparent relaxation, it was probably aware of every sound, every movement within its territory.

Atlas tightened his grip on his sword. It didn't feel very reassuring, especially after he had dropped it in his previous fight. The Falcrest Sword Art was built for precision and percussive strikes, not outright brute force. But it was all he had. Well, that and his legs, which he was about to test in ways he never wanted to.

Up ahead, the lynx's ears flicked again, its muscles tensing ever so slightly as its head lifted. The beast's glowing yellow eyes scanned the treeline, its body going unnervingly still.

Atlas's heart skipped a beat. "Shit," he whispered, freezing in place. Had it noticed him? The plan was for him to create a distraction after Marcus and Kara were ready, not before.

The lynx's gaze swept over his position but then moved on, settling back into its relaxed posture. Its tail flicked again, almost lazily, as if mocking him. Atlas let out a slow breath, his chest still tight.

He didn't want to do this, but he didn't have a choice. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword, his body coiled and ready to spring. He counted down in his head.

Three… two… one.

Atlas raised his sword, tilting it just enough for the sun to catch the polished blade and reflect a sharp glint of light directly into the lynx's eyes.

The beast stirred, its pointed ears twitching as it lifted its head from the snow. It stood slowly, its sleek body uncoiling like a spring as it scanned the tree line. Atlas crouched low, his heart pounding as the lynx's piercing yellow eyes swept the forest.

Come on, you bastard,

He twisted the blade slightly, making the reflected light dance between the lynx's eyes. The beast growled low, the sound vibrating through the still air, its tail flicking in irritation. It began to prowl forward, its muscles rippling under its thick fur.

Atlas felt his pulse quicken. His mana coursed through his body, sharpening his senses, but the heightened awareness only made the lynx seem more menacing. Its claws glinted like polished steel, and its fangs, visible even with its mouth closed, looked long enough to tear through his wiry frame with ease.

He adjusted the angle of his sword again, this time directing the light down onto the snow. The lynx hesitated, its gaze following the flicker of light as it danced along the frosty ground. For a fleeting moment, Atlas thought it might work. The lynx's head tilted, its ears perked forward, and it leapt toward the shifting light like a playful cat. He kept moving the light and the lynx chased it through the snow, clearly enjoying itself. Atlas wanted to aswell, he began to relax as he watched in silence.

But then it froze and so did he.

The lynx's fur bristled, its tail going rigid as its nose lifted to the air. A deep inhale followed, the sound sharp and deliberate. Atlas's stomach dropped.

He looked past the lynx, and there, creeping along the snow-covered path, was Kara. She had almost reached the base of the tree where the cache was stashed in the branches. Her movements were careful, deliberate, but now she was frozen in place, her wide eyes locked on the lynx.

Damn it all, Atlas thought, his heart hammering in his chest.

The lynx turned its head slowly. A low growl rumbled from its throat, and the air seemed to thicken with tension.

"Over here, you fur ball fuck!" Atlas shouted, standing up from his crouch.

Time for plan B.

The lynx's ears snapped forward, and its head whipped around to face him. For a moment, it seemed to hesitate, its gaze narrowing as though weighing its options. Then, to Atlas's horror, it bared its teeth in what looked unsettlingly like a grin. Without warning, it lunged.

Atlas didn't wait to see more. He turned and ran, weaving between the trees as fast as his legs would carry him. He bit back the urge to scream, knowing he'd never live it down if this plan actually worked. The sound of the lynx's paws crunching in the snow grew louder behind him, each thud a reminder of how close it was.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, stupid plan.

The icy wind stung his face as he pushed himself harder, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He could feel the lynx gaining on him, its speed relentless. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to turn and fight, but he knew that wasn't the plan. If he stopped now, he wouldn't last long enough to give Kara and Marcus the time they needed.

He burst through a cluster of trees, the branches scraping at his arms and face. Up ahead, the forest thinned, and he saw the rocky edge of the cliff they'd scouted earlier. His boots slipped slightly on the icy ground as he sprinted toward it.

The growls behind him grew louder, closer, until he could almost feel the heat of the lynx's breath on his back.

He skidded to a halt at the cliff's edge, the snow and loose rocks tumbling over the side and disappearing into the abyss below. Atlas turned slowly, his chest heaving as he faced the beast.

The lynx emerged from the tree line, its sleek form cutting through the snow like a predator stalking its prey. Its glowing eyes locked onto him, and it let out a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down his spine. Atlas's grip tightened on his sword.

It's now or never.