The forest arena was a primal crucible, its towering trees cloaked in shadows, their gnarled branches weaving a canopy that choked the moonlight to a sickly silver. The air was thick with the scent of damp moss, rotting leaves, and the coppery tang of blood, the ground soft and treacherous underfoot. Edwyn crouched beneath a massive oak, its roots forming a natural bunker, his lean frame tense but his sharp blue eyes glinting. The nutrient potion's vile aftertaste, diluted vinegar and fermented grass juice, lingered on his tongue, but its warmth fueled his body, banishing hunger. He'd planned to meditate, diving into the Sea of Souls to recharge his Spiritforce and stay sharp, but the forest had other ideas.
"ROARRR!" A guttural bellow shattered the night, echoing like a war drum from a few kilometers away. The ground trembled, leaves skittering across the earth as the chirping of insects fell silent, replaced by a chorus of dread. Edwyn's hand instinctively gripping the magic dagger at his waist, its Mana Stone slot empty but ready. "Well, that's my peace and quiet shot to hell," he muttered, his voice a low drawl. "What's this clown show now?"
He scaled the oak with fluid grace, his Feather Foot spell making his climb a breeze, his boots finding purchase on the rough bark. Perched on a high branch, he peered through the moonlit canopy, his red hair catching the silver light like a flicker of flame. In the distance, chaos erupted, a group of Mage Apprentices sprinting through the underbrush, their patched tunics and glowing cantrips a frantic blur, pursued by a grotesque silhouette that dwarfed them. Screams pierced the air, mingled with the beast's roars and the crackle of failed spells.
"What the hell is that thing?!" one Apprentice wailed, his voice high with panic as he stumbled over a root, his face pale under the moonlight. He'd been resting, maybe dreaming of passing the exam, when the stampede barreled toward him.
"Are you brain-dead?!" another Apprentice snapped, his tone sharp with fury as he hurled a Magic Missile, the blue bolt veering wide and fizzling into a tree. "That's the academy's trial beast, you idiot! An Arcane Beast!"
Edwyn's eyes narrowed. Arcane Beast, huh? He'd read about them in How to Become a Mage Apprentice, mythic terrors of legend, shapeshifters and devourers, supposedly tamed by Knights and Mages in the old tales, their hides hung as bragging rights. But this was no trophy. The Seven-Headed Demon Goat loomed over two meters at the shoulder, its four-meter bulk a walking nightmare. Eight limbs, skeletal, clawed, and unnaturally jointed, propelled it with horrifying speed, its seven heads a grotesque patchwork. Only the central goat's head was real, its blood-red eyes glowing with malice, while the other six, wolf, serpent, boar, and more, were crudely stitched on, their seams oozing black ichor.
"Somebody's been playing Frankenstein," Edwyn muttered, his tone mocking but his gut tightening. The stitched heads roared in disarray, spewing jets of acid that melted trees, gouts of fire that scorched the earth, and jagged ice that impaled fleeing Apprentices. One head, a fanged maw, swooped down, swallowing a screaming boy whole, his Force Barrier shattering like glass. Spells flew, missiles, barriers, even a desperate Flame Burst, but panic threw off their aim, and the hits that landed barely scratched the beast's hide, closing with unnatural speed.
"Man, this is a straight-up horror flick," Edwyn said, his grin wry as he leaned against the branch. "Those kids are toast unless they pull a miracle." The forest had become a hellscape, littered with severed limbs, blood-soaked earth, and the wails of the dying. The beast's hooves churned the ground, each step a thunderclap, its eight legs moving like a demonic machine.
Inside the Black Tower Magus Academy's central spire, a monolith of obsidian etched with runes that pulsed like veins, two Arch-Mages stood in a circular chamber, its walls lined with glowing crystal orbs. One orb, the size of a boulder, projected a live feed of the Seven-Headed Demon Goat's rampage, its flickering light casting eerie shadows across the room. Arch-Mage Joron, a wiry man with a disheveled head of white hair and a robe shimmering with star-like runes, smirked as he leaned over the orb, his yellow eyes gleaming with pride.
"Vice-Chancellor, my beast's performing like a dream, isn't it? Crafted it myself, guaranteed quality. Those Apprentices don't stand a chance."
Elric, the white-bearded Vice-Chancellor, sat across from him, his black robes pooling like liquid shadow, his bespectacled eyes glinting behind his glasses. He raised an eyebrow, his voice dry as dust.
"You, Joron? Crafting a beast? Since when do you get your hands dirty with these little science projects? I thought you outsourced your toys to your students."
Joron froze, his smirk faltering, a bead of sweat trickling down his face.
"Uh… well…" he stammered, his eyes darting to the orb as the beast crushed another Apprentice underfoot.
Elric's lips twitched into a faint, knowing smile. "Nothing to say? Tell you what, if you can prove this wasn't some student's homework, I'll be your pawn in the next planar war. A Rank Three Arch-Mage at your beck and call? You'd clean up."
Joron coughed, his face reddening as he waved a hand dismissively.
"Cough, cough, let's stick to the beast, Vice-Chancellor. Look at that carnage! Prime exam material, right?" He gestured to the orb, where the beast's wolf head spewed a Torrhent of acid, dissolving a tree and the Apprentice hiding behind it. "Besides, what's with the Chancellor's sudden exam overhaul? We took a hit last planetary war, sure, but we gained enough relics to rebuild. Why rush to churn out more Apprentices?"
Elric's smile faded, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair, its wood carved with runes that glowed faintly. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice low. As Vice-Chancellor, he was privy to the academy's inner workings, but the Chancellor, a Rank Four Grand Overlord, operated on a level beyond even him. "The Black Tower's always prioritized quality over quantity. Our elite strategy made us a powerhouse in a century. This… mass culling feels off. But the Chancellor's tied to the Primordial Alliance. If he's pushing this, he's got intel we don't. Us low-ranking Arch-Mages just follow the script."
Joron snorted, crossing his arms. "Low-ranking? You're Rank Three, same as me. Don't play humble. Still, tossing ten thousand kids into ten arenas with beasts like mine? That's not an exam, it's a slaughterhouse. What's the Alliance planning?"
Back in the forest, the Seven-Headed Demon Goat's roars grew louder, its thunderous hooves shaking the earth as it barreled closer to Edwyn's hiding spot. His meditation plans were trashed, his face turning sour as he muttered, "So much for my spa night." He scaled the oak again, hoping to scope the beast under the moonlight, but a blinding flash erupted from the forest ahead, followed by a BOOM that rattled his bones and left his ears ringing.
"Holy crap!" Edwyn yelped, gripping the branch to keep from falling. "Somebody just dropped a nuke!" The blast's shockwave rustled the canopy, sending leaves spiraling down like ash. High-powered Arcane Artifact, he thought. "That beast's gotta be toast now. Time to chill."
He dropped back to the ground, ready to resume meditating, but fate was a cruel bastard. The hellish roar echoed again, closer, its fury undimmed. "You've gotta be kidding me," Edwyn growled, his blue eyes narrowing as he cast Feather Foot and Silence Field. The spells wrapped him in a cocoon of lightness and quiet, his footsteps muted, his presence fading into the shadows. At night, Silence Field was as good as invisibility, a perfect cloak for dodging trouble. He dove into a dense bush, its thorns snagging his tunic, and held his breath. No looting, noheroics. I'm here to pass, not play monster hunter.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The ground quaked as the beast approached, its massive frame crashing through the underbrush like a living siege engine. Edwyn peeked through the bush, his heart pounding. The Seven-Headed Demon Goat was a nightmare made flesh, its four-meter bulk scarred and bloodied, only three of its seven heads intact, goat, wolf, and serpent. The other four were blackened stumps, charred and oozing, likely blasted off by that Arcane Artifact. Thick stitches crisscrossed its hide, the seams pulsing with dark mana, like the beast was a patchwork of stolen lives.
"Looks like a mad scientist's pet project," Edwyn muttered, his tone mocking but his mind racing. An Arch-Mage made this? Or a twisted Apprentice? The Infinite Forge pulsed in his soul, a spark of greed flaring. If I can extract its blueprint, I could build my own monster. Talk about a trump card. But reason doused the ambition. Focus, dumbass.Survive the exam first.
He held his breath, willing the beast to pass, but the wolf head twitched, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Wolves could smell a human from miles away, and even in a forest thick with scents, blood, sap, decay, Edwyn's odor stood out like a neon sign. "Awooo…" the wolf head howled, its yellow eyes locking onto his bush.
"Crap, I'm made!" Edwyn hissed, his heart slamming against his ribs. He swapped the nearly depleted Mana Stone in his ice spike ring for a fresh one, the new stone's mana surging through the artifact like a jolt of lightning. The old stone was at 20%, useless against this beast. "Alright, ugly, you wanna dance? Let's dance."
Thud, thud, thud!
The demon goat charged, its bowl-sized hooves churning the earth, its roars shaking the trees. Dirt and stones flew, dead leaves swirling in its wake, its eight legs moving like a mythical stallion from hell. Edwyn braced himself, his hand raised, the ring glowing with icy mana.
One shot, make it count.
Boom!
The beast stumbled, its front legs buckling as two ice spikes, each a meter long, thick as his arm, and sharp as glass, erupted from the ground, piercing its limbs with a sickening crunch. The goat crashed down, plowing through the forest floor like a derailed train, its massive body tearing up roots and earth. Edwyn staggered, clutching his chest, his heart pounding like a war drum, adrenaline flooding his veins like liquid fire. "Holy crap, that was too close!" he gasped, his voice shaky but grinning. "One second later, and I'd be goat food."
The beast thrashed, its remaining heads roaring in fury, but Edwyn wasn't taking chances. He fired another Magic Missile, the blue streak slamming into the goat's unstitched head, blasting it open with a spray of gore. The body twitched, then fell still, its mana fading as the forest grave went quiet. "Finally down for the count," Edwyn said, exhaling hard. "Tough crowd."
He approached cautiously, his dagger drawn, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. The beast's stench was overwhelming, rotting flesh, acid, and something unnatural, like burnt mana. He probed the corpse with his spiritual sense, hoping to extract its secrets, but the Infinite Forge stayed silent, unimpressed. "What, too gross for you?" he muttered, frowning. "Picky bastard."
Gritting his teeth, he sliced into the beast's belly, the dagger cutting through its hide like paper. A wave of black, foul-smelling blood gushed out, splattering his boots, the organs inside rotting at an unnatural speed, bubbling like a witch's brew. Edwyn gagged, holding his breath as he dug deeper, his hand brushing something solid and pulsing, a fist-sized core glowing with dark mana. The Infinite Forge flared to life:
[Material: Low-Grade Synthetic Beast Core]
[Extractable Technique: Low-Grade Synthetic Beast Core Creation]
[Extraction Cost: 15 Spiritforce]
[Extract?]
"A beast-making recipe? That's my kind of souvenir." He hesitated, weighing the cost. 15 Spiritforce was steep, half his reserves, enough to leave him foggy for hours in a forest crawling with threats. "Gotta play this smart," he muttered, deciding to hold off. "Save the mad science for later. Right now, I'm sticking to the plan: get to the pillar, stay alive."
He pocketed the core, its pulse faint but steady, and wiped the dagger clean on his cloak. The beast's corpse was a treasure trove, but its hide and heads were too damaged to salvage, and lugging them would slow him down. "Sorry, ugly," he said, patting the carcass. "You're staying here for the vultures."