160 Test of Skill
Prince Grant Zeichmund Alr. He was seventeen years old, the youngest of six, and sohow the most beloved. The stories around him painted a picture of a benevolent prodigy: a strategist who ended wars, a prince who rode at the front with common soldiers, a royal who donated his share of taxes back to the people. And now, he planned to slay a dragon.
That was why the capital teed with warriors from rcenaries, knights, wanderers, and the occasional gifted individual who kept their abilities hidden under rough cloaks. All waiting for a chance to step into legend.
We were gathered in the manor square. By my count, forty-two people stood here. About half radiated enough willpower to mark them as capes… well, gifted. Whatever term this world used, the pressure in the air felt familiar.
Behind us, rcenaries whispered among themselves.
“His brothers clipped his authority,” one muttered, chewing on a straw.
“He hasn’t awakened his gift yet,” another replied. “That’s why he wants dragon blood.”
“Seventeen and already fighting wars… kid’s cursed, if you ask .”
Alia nudged my arm. “What do you think?”
I kept my voice low. “He has a good reputation. Even with the negative gossip, his surface thoughts from the crowd have the sa general tone. They are filled with respect, and admiration. Nothing contradicting the public image.”
I’d spent the last hour skimming thoughts and emotions around us. It was ssy work with my powers were still dampened, but enough to form conclusions. Alia however… sothing in her expression stiffened.
I felt her discomfort before she even spoke. Empathy didn’t lie.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Keen bastard,” she muttered, then exhaled sharply. “He’s a good person. Do we really have to kill him?”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t even t him yet. And what’s the alternative? Kill Dr. Ti? He’s the only one with a chance, maybe, to send us ho.” I shook my head. “In the SRC, you should’ve learned that morals are obstacles. The mont you weigh them against survival, survival wins.”
She shot a glare. “Is that why you went crazy? Attacked the SRC, killed so much for show, exposed Sunstrider, killed Royal, and every other insane thing you pulled? Forget morals… you have your own justice. And I respect that, even when you’re a violent idiot.”
“Wow. I’m touched.”
“Stop being sarcastic,” she snapped. Then softer, “And don’t forget that I’m a tiger. I don’t mind blood on my claws if it’s for a real cause. It just doesn’t sit right killing soone for nothing but our personal gain.”
So that was her angle. Not refusing murder. She just wanted the target to deserve it. Reasonable to her. Completely impractical to . What next? Suggest we find another route ho? Pretend Dr. Ti wasn’t using us and stringing us along? As if she didn't already suspect that.
She added quietly, “If we’re going to kill him… it should at least be painless.”
That shut up more effectively than any argunt.
I sighed, resigned. “Fine. We’ll… figure sothing out.”
Before she could answer, the massive doors of the manor swung open. A royal guard stepped out, armor gleaming in the sun as he raised his halberd and declared:
“Make way for His Highness, Prince Grant Zeichmund Alr!”
The crowd fell silent.
Prince Grant stood atop the manor steps with poise. The afternoon sun caught the cool blue of his hair, making it gleam almost silver, while his amber eyes swept over the crowd with a calm confidence that reminded of a seasoned general rather than a seventeen-year-old prince. His smile had a warmth that could lower anyone’s guard.
For a brief mont, I felt the pull, an instinctive urge to stand straighter, listen closer, and accept whatever command he issued. It was subtle but potent, like a thread tightening around the back of my mind.
The sharp jolt of fur brushing my arm snapped back. Alia had shifted into her Tigress form in an instant, her muscles coiled and her ears pinned flat. I caught her before anyone else noticed, pulling her hood low and tugging her coat around her to hide the striped fur creeping up her neck. In a kingdom suspicious of anything non-human, her transformation could get her killed.
“What’s the problem?” I whispered, keeping my voice low.
“He’s dangerous,” she breathed, her voice roughened by her Tigress throat. Her fur bristled beneath the cloak, and her tail twitched with instinctive fear. “His power… it’s wrong. It feels like Continuity when he broke reality. My instincts hate it. Nick, this man is not soone we can kill the usual way.”
Her words unsettled . My empathy and telepathy weren’t picking up anything abnormal from the prince. His thoughts were clear, steady, and human. His emotions were controlled but genuine. If anything, he felt stable, more stable than most insane capes I’d t.
“Hey,” I hissed, “don’t say the killing part out loud.”
No one seed to hear us. All attention belonged to Prince Grant.
Prince Grant lifted his hand for silence, and then spoke with a voice that carried cleanly through the square.
“People of Alr,” he began, “I thank each of you for gathering here today. As many of you know, the northern frontier has suffered under the shadow of a beast our kingdom has not faced in two generations. Villages burn, fields rot, and travelers vanish on the roads. This creature—this dragon!—has beco a calamity that cannot be ignored.”
He stepped forward with calm confidence, letting his gaze sweep across the aspiring dragon slayers.
“I do not ask for blind loyalty. I ask for strength, resolve, and the courage to stand where others flee. The kingdom must not bow to fear. And in return, I promise this: those who stand with will share in the spoils of our victory. Wealth, land, honor… these rewards will belong to the brave.”
The murmurs intensified, but he continued, steady and composed.
“However, I will not lead a reckless company. Only those capable of discipline and restraint will join . To determine who among you holds the qualities required, a test will be held here and now. Pass, and you march with at dawn. Fail, and you will return ho safely, with no sha.”
Prince Grant raised his hand once more, signaling the guards.
“Bring forth the slave.”
A slave was led forward. He was barefoot, filthy, and shackled in heavy iron. His long dark hair hid most of his face, but the dullness of his eyes was unmistakable. He looked half-alive.
The royal guard stepped ahead of him and projected his voice. “Subdue this man without killing him, and you earn your place in the expedition. Kill him, and you will answer for the destruction of property, regardless of intent.”
Property. The word left a bitter taste on my tongue.
A cocky rcenary stomped forward, raising his hand high. “Oi! I’ll go first! I’ll show the prince who deserves to stand at his side!”
The chains were unclasped. The slave staggered for a mont, then lifted his head. A low, guttural growl vibrated from his throat. His muscles bunched, and in the next breath he hurled himself at the volunteer with the speed of a wild beast.
The first volunteer barely lasted twenty seconds. He charged in with a bravado that vanished the mont the slave hit him back. The man moved like a starving animal, nails bared, teeth grinding, and his speed caught the rcenary completely off guard. A slash of steel grazed the slave’s shoulder, yet the wound sealed almost instantly, leaving only a faint sar of blood behind. The rcenary’s confidence wavered, and the slave seized him by the throat, slamming him repeatedly into the ground until the guards tore the two apart. The volunteer lay twitching, conscious but barely holding on.
I watched the scene unfold and whispered to Alia, “If the prince already has a power, then what’s his reason for going on this dragon hunt?”
The rumors didn’t add up. Everyone insisted he sought the dragon’s blood to awaken a dormant gift, but if a power existed under all of this pretense, sothing was off. Either the public had everything wrong, or soone carefully shaped the wrong narrative to hide the truth.
Alia didn’t hesitate. “I’m certain he has a power,” she muttered, keeping her hood low. “I know what I felt.”
Before I could press further, the royal guard barked out, “You, the woman! If you have ti to babble, then you have ti to take the test. Step forward!”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Alia walked toward the center. A few n scoffed at the sight of a hooded woman joining the trial, while others speculated she must possess a rare gift to walk so confidently. Their surface thoughts drifted through the air with curiosity, derision, envy all tangled together.
We agreed beforehand to avoid revealing our powers unless absolutely necessary. The slave had only displayed regeneration, no super strength or speed beyond normal limits. Alia had trained for years before joining the SRC and had mastered enough grappling techniques to subdue soone without causing permanent damage. In theory, this shouldn't push her too far.
The royal guard raised a hand and announced, “Begin!”
The slave lunged, snarling, but Alia pivoted aside, caught his arm, and redirected his weight. She used his montum against him, locking his limbs in a controlled hold that forced him to the ground without breaking anything. It took effort to keep him pinned as his frantic thrashing made the scene brutal, but Alia’s movents stayed precise and efficient. The crowd gasped when she tightened the final hold, the slave’s struggles dying down as he found himself unable to rise.
A heartbeat of stunned silence filled the square before cheers erupted. Even the guards exchanged surprised looks.
The royal guard pointed at Alia and declared, “Victory! You pass the test. Step back with the other successful candidates.”
As she joined the successful candidates behind the prince, I noticed the looks from the participants who’d failed. They were resentful, jealous, and dismissive. The whispers carried easily.
“She only won because she got lucky.”
“Bet she hides so cursed power.”
“Why is a woman even here?”
Alia ignored all of it and simply pulled her hood lower, hiding her face in its shadows. I felt her irritation through empathy, sharp and brief before she buried it under her usual calm.
I kept my voice low. “You did well.”
The fights dragged on one after another, and the longer they continued, the more the slave deteriorated. His eyes lost their light, turning glassy and distant, yet his body fought with the desperation of soone cornered like an animal. Every ti he was released for the next challenger, he looked less like a man and more like a tool being pushed beyond breaking. The sight stirred an anger in I had tried hard to bury. Slavery existed in my world too, just hidden behind bureaucracy and corporate smiles, but seeing it displayed this openly made sothing in my chest twist. Part of wanted to punish the people responsible, but the slave wasn’t the one who deserved my fury.
Eventually, my turn arrived. The slave staggered into position, froth clinging to his lips, his breathing ragged and uneven. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated to the point of madness, and his mind when I brushed against it was shredded by confusion and pain. It felt like trying to grasp broken glass.
“Drugs,” I muttered, stepping forward. “They pumped him with sothing.”
He lunged, half-stumbling, but before he could reach , I delivered a single sharp blow to his jaw. The force traveled cleanly through his skull, not enough to break anything, but precise enough to shut his consciousness down. He collapsed like a stone dropped in mud, twitching once before going still.
I returned to Alia’s side, joining the line of those who had passed. She leaned in and whisper-scolded, “Did you really have to be so cruel? You could’ve subdued him easily with grappling, but you just had to do that, didn’t you?”
“He’ll be fine,” I said, keeping my voice calm. I didn’t feel calm, but I didn’t want her worrying over what I already regretted. “A clean knockout is better than making him struggle again.”
In the end, the slave was forced awake by inflicting him an injury.
“Annoying,” I clicked my tongue, pissed at the sight.
The examination continued until all the remaining participants either passed or were dragged off the field by the guards. Eventually, the rejects were turned away, so grumbling under their breath, others too injured to protest.
Thirteen of us remained.
Among the group, three stood out sharply against the rest. One was a swordsman whose movents seed unnaturally smooth, his blade absorbing the montum of any strike that ca at him. The second was a redheaded woman with a burn scar clawing over the right side of her face, her belt and boots studded with daggers of varying sizes. The air around her humd faintly, a sign of her powers, such as electrokinesis intertwined with telekinesis. The third was a towering man with no weapons at all, his skin faintly grayish, hinting at his gift: invulnerability.
The prince stepped forward with a bright smile and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “To those who have prevailed today, I extend my gratitude. Tonight, we hold a banquet in your honor. Let us celebrate the beginning of a partnership that shall bring great fortune to the kingdom and to each of you as well.”
His voice rang clear and warm, and the crowd responded with cheers that echoed through the square.
A banquet, huh? I wasn’t sure if it was a trap, a formality, or genuine goodwill, but either way, it would bring us closer to the target.
Reviews
All reviews (0)