THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The guest room within the Earl's grand estate was an exquisite blend of wealth and subtle grandeur, designed to impress without ostentation. The gentle glow of an ornate chandelier bathed the room in warm, golden hues, its light flickering across tapestries that draped the walls, each depicting tales of valor and legacy. Deep burgundy velvet sofas lined the room, providing plush seating for the five men gathered there.

At the head of the gathering sat the Earl, his posture regal as he sipped delicately from a porcelain teacup, savoring the aroma of his finely brewed tea while observing the scene with quiet satisfaction.

The tension in the room spiked as Elder Luviania slammed his hand on the polished table, the impact causing the delicate china to rattle. His eyes were wide with disbelief, fixed on the parchment handed to him moments earlier by the estate's mages. "Impossible!" he burst out, his voice quivering with a mix of shock and frustration. His gaze darted back to the score sheet, struggling to comprehend the numbers staring back at him.

Elder Maison and Elder Scroll exchanged knowing grins, clearly having anticipated this outcome. Elder Tyron, however, remained a picture of stoic silence, his expression unreadable, masking whatever thoughts churned beneath his calm facade.

"How is he doing this?" Elder Luviania demanded, his voice cracking under the weight of his incredulity. But the room remained silent, the only response being the barely restrained smugness of the other elders. It was as if they all shared an unspoken understanding: David was a force that could not be contained, a wild card set to disrupt the delicate balance of the trials.

The parchments laid before each elder displayed the candidates' scores from the artificial dungeon, a test designed to gauge their prowess by awarding points for each monster slain. Typically, candidates wouldn't begin accumulating significant points until ten to twelve hours into the trial. Yet, David had defied this norm, amassing an impressive score in just forty minutes, shattering all expectations.

Elder Maison, unable to resist the opportunity to rub salt in the wound, leaned forward, his voice laced with smugness. "We warned you that the boy had changed," he sneered, directing his words at Elder Luviania. "But your stubborn pride blinded you to his potential."

Luviania's face twisted in frustration, his disbelief refusing to wane. "But... but this is simply absurd," he stammered, struggling to reconcile the reality of David's performance with his preconceived notions. "How can an Awakened be this strong?"

The room fell into a charged silence, each elder lost in their thoughts. David was no ordinary contender; his presence was a storm that threatened to upend their carefully laid plans. And as the Earl sat back, watching the scene unfold with a small, satisfied smile, it was clear that David's rise was not just unexpected—it was inevitable.

****

In a cavernous chamber, draped in perpetual twilight, an ancient throne loomed. Its intricate carvings, etched with forgotten deities, seemed to whisper tales of a bygone era of ruthless dominion. Moonlight, filtering through a shattered skylight, cast an eerie, silvery glow upon the throne, transforming it into a spectral beacon of power and despair.

Perched upon this relic of ancient might was Elder La Muerte, her presence as imposing as the shadowy chamber itself. Wrapped in a flowing robe that blended seamlessly with the gloom, she swirled a glass of dark wine, its crimson hue echoing the color of fresh blood. Her eyes, sharp as daggers, were fixed on a parchment, a predatory smile playing on her lips as she examined the scores.

The dim light flickered across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the gleam in her eyes that hinted at hidden depths. With a slow sip of wine, she savored the taste as though it were the essence of her satisfaction. David's unexpected performance in the trials was not merely impressive—it was intriguing, a promising disruption to the carefully orchestrated dynamics of the candidates.

With a flick of her wrist, she set the parchment down, her smile widening. Elder La Muerte was not one to be easily impressed, but David's sudden rise was a spark in the darkness—an anomaly that promised a far more thrilling outcome than the predictable monotony of past candidates.

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From the shadows behind a towering pillar, an executioner emerged with a commanding presence, stepping forward in silence before dropping to one knee. Draped in an ominous black cloak that billowed with every movement, Angelica's form was a menacing silhouette against the flickering darkness of the chamber. Her attire was crafted with sleek, obsidian leather that hugged her form, adorned with silver buckles and dark metallic accents that gleamed subtly in the sparse light. A hood covered her head, casting her face in shadow, but her mask—a sinister visage marked by glowing red eyes—betrayed her as a figure of fear and ruthlessness.

"My Lady," Angelica spoke, her voice unwavering but laced with a cautious reverence. Elder La Muerte, seated on her grand throne, glanced at her briefly, the flicker of annoyance barely visible in her sharp eyes.

"Speak your thoughts, Angelica," Elder La Muerte commanded, her tone cutting through the silence like a blade.

"If I may, my lady, I believe David might be using some kind of trick. It's inconceivable for an awakened to display such results," Angelica said, her words measured but daring, as she laid her suspicions bare before her Elder.

Elder La Muerte's expression remained impassive, but a hint of amusement flickered in her eyes as she leaned back slightly, her grip on her wine glass tightening. "So, what you are trying to imply is that the boy not only deceived the Elders and mages from the Spire but also the Earl himself?" she retorted, her voice dripping with disdain. The accusation hung heavily in the air, leaving no room for Angelica to maneuver.

"My Lady, I would never suggest such a thing," Angelica quickly backtracked, her voice laced with a mix of desperation and regret. She knew the gravity of questioning Elder La Muerte's judgment and the danger of overstepping her bounds.

Elder La Muerte's gaze turned icy, her disappointment palpable. "Your thoughts and hasty judgment have disappointed me, Angelica," she said, her voice cold and unforgiving. "If you have nothing else to offer but baseless accusations, then begone from my sight." The Elder's tone left no room for further argument, cutting Angelica off before she could muster another word.

Angelica rose, the sting of her Elder's reprimand burning behind her masked visage. Humiliation simmered within her as she turned sharply and left the chamber, her cape swirling behind her like the shadow of a lurking storm. As she retreated into the corridors of darkness, one thought seethed in her mind, fueling her resolve.

"I will find your secret, trash," she vowed silently, her determination igniting like a fire within. Angelica would uncover whatever deceit David was hiding, and she would do so with a vengeance befitting her role as the executioner—unyielding and merciless.

****

David's senses were razor-sharp, every movement calculated as he faced off against the two crowned Mycelial Monsters. These creatures were larger than their lesser kin, their fungal bodies crowned with jagged, spore-covered growths that pulsed with a sickly, green glow. One of the creatures lunged forward, its eyes glowing with murderous intent as it swung its arm, tipped with a blade-like extension, straight at David's head.

With a quick pivot, David dodged the strike, plunging his dagger deep into the monster's chest. The creature shrieked, its fungal body convulsing as David used the momentum to slam it against a nearby tree. The impact sent a shiver through the trunk as bark splintered and spores erupted into the air.

Before he could finish the first monster, the second crowned Mycelial swung its scythe-like arm, aiming to sever David's head in a single swift motion. In a split-second decision, David dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the deadly swing. He swept his leg out, tripping the creature. It fell hard, its grotesque form landing with a heavy thud. Without wasting a second, David twisted up, pulling his daggers free from the pinned monster. In one fluid motion, he drove both blades deep into the creature's head, shattering its spore-laden crown with a sickening crunch.

Breathing heavily, David stood over the fallen monsters, the damp forest floor beneath his feet stained with their oozing fluids. He glanced at his daggers, wiping the residue on the nearest moss-covered stone. "Not bad for a warm-up," he muttered, his breath visible in the humid air as he took a moment to assess his surroundings.

Luna, who had been leaning casually against a tree nearby, let out a long, exaggerated sigh. She kicked a loose pebble, sending it skipping across the underbrush. "This is boring," she complained, her golden eyes reflecting a mixture of irritation and boredom. "You're just playing with them."

David chuckled, sheathing his daggers with a swift, practised motion. "Just warming up," he replied, but his mind was already racing ahead, pondering the next move. The crowned Mycelial Monsters were formidable, but not enough to satisfy his growing thirst for a true challenge. His gaze shifted towards the dense forest beyond, where the dungeon boss surely lurked. "I could track the dungeon boss… might be worth the points."

Luna rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the tree. "Anything would be better than watching you swat overgrown mushrooms."

But before either could make a decision, the air around them pulsed violently, a sudden shockwave tearing through the forest with a force that sent leaves scattering like confetti. David and Luna staggered, caught off guard by the sudden eruption.

The ground beneath them trembled, and a low, resonant boom echoed through the trees. David's head snapped toward the source, his senses alert and sharp. The sound had come from the direction where the group of candidates had gathered earlier.

"That can't be good," David said, his tone laced with concern. He exchanged a brief, knowing glance with Luna, the unspoken urgency clear between them. Whatever had caused that shockwave was no ordinary event, and David felt the familiar rush of adrenaline kick in. Something—or someone—had just raised the stakes.