Chapter 103: Arrows of Discipline
After completing the registration, Ethan gave a slight nod to Lirael. No words were spoken, but the signal was clear.
She bowed her head faintly in acknowledgnt. "Yes, Master."
Stepping forward, she moved to the center of the testing ground. The crowd’s murmurs swelled in volu, curious eyes turning toward the elf carrying a gleaming golden bow. Her calm poise, coupled with her striking presence, drew both admiration and envy.
The middle-aged examiner with the hunter’s eyes rose from his seat. His voice rang out across the field, steady and authoritative.
"For an archer aspiring to C-rank, the standards are clear. First — precision. Then movent. Then penetration. Finally, combat."
A guild assistant carried out the stationary target and fixed it fifty ters away. A white circle glead faintly in the sun, the bullseye no larger than a coin.
Lirael lifted her bow, her movents smooth and ceremonial. Golden runes shimred faintly along the weapon’s limbs as she nocked an arrow. The string drew back without resistance, her posture elegant.
Thrum!
The arrow split the air and embedded dead-center in the bullseye. A murmur ran through the onlookers. Without pause, she loosed two more in quick succession — each striking the sa mark so precisely that the shafts quivered against one another.
"Stationary — cleared." The examiner’s voice was calm, though his eyes glead with approval.
Next, assistants rolled out a small contraption that hurled clay discs across the field, simulating swift-moving prey. One disc, then another, then a third were launched.
Thrum! Thrum! Thrum!
Each was shattered mid-air before it could even reach half the distance.
Then the pace quickened — two discs thrown together, then three in irregular arcs. The crowd gasped as Lirael’s arrows chased them down with ruthless efficiency. Not a single miss. When the last shard crumbled to dust, silence briefly overtook the field.
"She didn’t miss even one..." soone muttered.
The examiner allowed himself a faint smile. "Moving target — cleared."
For the next trial, assistants dragged out a block of condensed alloy wood, a material crafted specifically for penetration testing. Twenty ters away it stood, heavy and solid. A standard C-rank archer would only need to pierce it by five to ten inches.
Lirael drew her bow again, the string singing with power. Thrum!
The arrow slamd into the block, embedding itself so deep that nearly twenty inches of the shaft vanished within. A ripple of disbelief swept across the watching adventurers.
"That’s not normal..."
"Tch, it’s the bow. Has to be."
"Of course it’s the bow. No way a maid shoots like that."
Their dissatisfaction boiled over into grunts and mutters, a sour haze of envy spreading across the sidelines.
The examiner, however, raised his voice with commanding authority.
"Quiet!" His tone cut through the noise like a blade. "Weapons and equipnt are part of every adventurer’s strength. To draw out one’s full potential — there is no sha in that!"
The reprimand silenced many, though discontent still lingered in the shifting stares and clenched jaws.
Finally, the examiner himself stepped into the field. He picked up his own bow, this one fitted with blunted wooden arrows. His posture shifted — relaxed yet coiled with readiness, like a wolf testing a younger cub.
"For the last test," he announced, "combat." His eyes fixed on Lirael, asuring her. "Do not hold back."
Lirael lowered her gaze respectfully. "As you command."
The crowd leaned in, eager to see whether her earlier precision was truly her own — or just the golden bow’s brilliance.
The middle-aged archer stepped lightly into the ring, bow in hand. His presence shifted, no longer the composed examiner behind a desk, but a seasoned predator ready to test prey that might surprise him. He notched a blunt arrow, gave Lirael a faint nod, and spoke evenly:
"Show your best."
Lirael raised her golden bow without hesitation, her movents crisp, precise, and without wasted motion. Her erald eyes locked on him, sharp and unwavering, her every step deliberate.
Thrum!
Their first arrows loosed at nearly the sa instant. The shafts clashed mid-air, splintering in a spray of wood. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Thrum—Thrum!
They exchanged again, rapid-fire shots at shifting angles. Lirael’s footwork was elegant, her body light and flowing like water. She pivoted, sidestepped, and twisted, every arrow she released carrying surgical accuracy. Once, twice, thrice, her arrows skimd so close to the examiner that he felt the wind of their passing against his cheek.
His eyes widened. This girl... her technique and form—it’s easily B-rank. Every draw and release... flawless. But...
He tightened his grip on his bow, firing another rapid volley, pressing her. Lirael t him arrow for arrow, but he felt it: the strain in her draw, the slight lack of force behind her shots compared to his. Her arrows struck true, but without the raw penetration or speed that higher-ranked archers could command.
So that’s it, he thought, deflecting her shot with one of his own. She lacks the power. That’s why that boy...
His gaze flicked briefly toward Ethan, who stood at the sidelines, arms folded, eyes sharp and unblinking as he watched every move Lirael made. Not pride, not arrogance—just calm focus, as though asuring her progress against his own expectations.
...That’s why he gave her that bow. To balance what she lacks. Hmph. He doesn’t seem such a bad master after all—
His thought was cut short as an arrow whistled past his ribs, so close it brushed his tunic before burying into the ground behind him. He froze for half a breath, his lips curving into the faintest smile.
Raising a hand, his booming voice carried across the field:
"Stop! The test ends here."
The crowd, caught between awe and disbelief, quieted.
He straightened, lowering his bow, and announced clearly,
"Candidate Lirael Vaerune—passed. Congratulations on becoming a C-ranked adventurer."
A restrained wave of murmurs swept through the spectators. So begrudged it, others nodded with reluctant respect.
Lirael exhaled softly, her bow lowering as she bent into a curt, elegant bow toward the examiner. Without a word, she turned and walked back toward Ethan. Her expression was calm, but her steps carried quiet pride.
Ethan t her with a small nod of acknowledgnt, as if her success was not a surprise, but a natural outco.
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