For a single, stunned heartbeat, the vast cavern was silent after Tsezguerra disappeared into the tunnel. Then, chaos erupted. The collective tension of the wait shattered, replaced by a primal surge of fear and urgency. 351 applicants surged forward as one, a wave of bodies scrambling, pushing, tripping over each other in their desperate haste to follow the proctor into the darkness.
I pushed off the wall, the waiting game abruptly over. My amusement at Tonpa and the sheer absurdity of the situation faded instantly, replaced by sharp focus. The 276th Hunter Exam had begun. My well-trained body moved effortlessly with the initial surge, maintaining balance amidst the uncoordinated rush, already outpacing most of the panicking crowd.
The moment Tsezguerra disappeared into the tunnel mouth, the air grew colder, heavier. The initial meters were pure chaos – a suffocating press of jostling elbows, desperate shoves, the pounding of hundreds of feet echoing off the unseen walls. Tsezguerra had set a punishing pace from the outset, a relentless ground-eating jog that immediately began to thin the herd of the slowest or least determined. I settled into the rhythm easily, my breathing controlled, a result of Dad's relentless stamina drills. The tunnel was long, a seemingly endless passage carved through the earth, dimly lit by infrequent, naturally glowing stones embedded in the rock walls. The air grew steadily staler, thick with the smell of damp earth and the exertion of hundreds of bodies.
For the first kilometer or two, it seemed like it might just be a brutal endurance run, a simple test of stamina and speed, just as I'd initially half-jokingly speculated. Many applicants, particularly the larger, less conditioned ones, were already breathing heavily, their strides shortening, faint leaks of uncontrolled aura puffing around them with exertion like steam. I felt completely untaxed, my physical training making the punishing pace feel like little more than a brisk, comfortable walk. I focused on observing the flow of the crowd around me, staying clear of obvious trouble spots where desperation turned into aggression.
Then, the nature of the test changed abruptly, shattering any assumption of a simple jog. A loud, whooshing sound echoed from ahead, metallic and heavy, quickly followed by screams and sickening crunches. As the crowd momentarily slowed, bottlenecking in confusion and fear, I saw the first major obstacle: massive, heavy logs swinging like erratic pendulums across the entire width of the tunnel, suspended from the darkness of the ceiling far above. Their rhythm was anything but predictable. Several applicants lay on the ground near the logs, groaning or unconscious, clear casualties of the unexpected hazard.
"Awareness is key!" Tsezguerra's voice boomed faintly from further down the tunnel, his tone utterly indifferent to the sudden casualties.
This wasn't just running; this required reaction and agility. I watched the logs' patterns for mere seconds, my mind instantly calculating their arcs and timing, a result of years of observation training. Effortlessly, with a dancer's precision born of countless dodging drills, I timed my passage, darting through during a brief window of safety, my smaller size allowing for easy maneuvering where larger applicants struggled. I saw Tonpa, further ahead in the crowd, subtly but deliberately 'accidentally' bumping a larger competitor into a log's path before hurrying on himself, a flicker of dark amusement in his aura. Crude, effective, and perfectly in character for the Rookie Crusher. Okay, so not just a jog. Obstacles. Point taken, Proctors. A wry internal smile touched my lips. Guess it's not a complete copy-paste after all. Good, a little variety is nice.
The obstacles came thick and fast after that, each designed to test something beyond just raw running speed. Sections of the floor gave way to shallow pitfalls, cleverly camouflaged; noticing minute disturbances in dust patterns or subtle discoloration of the ground, skills honed by Dad's observation lessons, made spotting them trivial. More cries of pain echoed from behind me as less aware people stumbled and fell into the traps. The tunnel constricted in places, forcing crawls or tight squeezes through narrow gaps, barely an inconvenience for my agile body. Patches of slick oil appeared on the floor in other sections; my balance training made them non-issues, allowing me to glide over them with minimal effort, though they caused havoc for others, resulting in painful, chaotic pile-ups as people slipped and fell. At one point, tiny, almost invisible darts hissed from vents hidden in the wall – I sidestepped them easily, noting the wet, oily shine on their tips. Based on the quick, silent collapse of a nearby applicant who wasn't fast enough, they were likely coated in some kind of fast-acting paralytic or knockout agent.
Throughout it all, I moved with an almost casual efficiency that felt both natural and, in contrast to the struggling mass around me, almost surreal. My passive aura control, active purely from ingrained habit, deflected minor debris kicked up by others or brushed against by the environment without conscious thought. My enhanced senses gave ample warning of impending obstacles seconds before they became visible to the panicked crowd. And my physical conditioning meant I felt no fatigue whatsoever; my muscles moved smoothly, tirelessly, consuming energy with peak efficiency. I analyzed each obstacle with detached interest, choosing the simplest, most energy-efficient path through, weaving through the chaos with a steady, unhurried confidence. The crowd thinned dramatically with each new hazard, the sounds of struggle, pain, and failure fading behind me, replaced by the echoing, more spread-out footsteps of the dwindling number of survivors.
Finally, after what felt like a significant, though not taxing, distance, the tunnel began to slope sharply upwards. A pale, inviting light beckoned ahead – the exit. Then came the roar as rocks and boulders, some cat-sized, others the size of small wagons, began tumbling down the steep incline from the unseen ceiling. It looked dangerous, certainly, a cascade of solid rock designed to crush or incapacitate, but for someone with my speed, agility, and ability to read trajectories and predict movement, it was simply another navigable challenge. I accelerated, timing my movements, weaving through the deadly rain of stone, using smaller, stable rocks as temporary stepping stones occasionally. I felt the wind of near misses against my cloak, heard the impacts around me, but was never truly threatened. It was almost… stimulating. A more active version of the dodging drills Dad used to put me through. Okay, maybe not just easy. Maybe... fun? Yeah, okay, a little fun.
Bursting out of the tunnel mouth into blinding sunlight and the intense heat of a desert landscape was a stark, jarring transition. Before me stretched endless dunes of golden sand under a harsh, cloudless sun. Tsezguerra stood near the exit, utterly impassive, a solitary figure against the vast backdrop, as the other survivors staggered out behind me, coated in dust, many nursing injuries, gasping for air, their bodies screaming in protest.
When the last figure stumbled out, collapsing onto the hot sand a few feet from the tunnel mouth, and the rumbling cascade of rocks from the entrance subsided, Tsezguerra raised his voice. It carried easily across the open space, clear and devoid of any warmth or sympathy. "Congratulations to those of you who made it," he announced, his tone flat. "You have passed the First Phase of the 276th Hunter Exam." He paused, letting his gaze drift over the ragged group. "Out of 351 applicants who entered that tunnel, 79 remain."
A gasp went through some of the survivors, quickly followed by murmurs of shock and a few expressions of grim understanding. The attrition rate was brutal – nearly eighty percent eliminated by a single, relentless test of endurance, awareness, and physical capability.
"Take this time to rest," Tsezguerra continued. "Conserve your energy. The proctor for the Second Phase will arrive shortly." He then stepped aside, moving slightly away from the tunnel exit to observe the ragged group with detached professional interest.
I found a spot away from the others, near a sparse patch of shade provided by a large, strangely shaped rock formation. While most applicants collapsed onto the hot sand, panting, retching, or immediately started digging through their packs to tend to scrapes and bruises, I simply stood. My breathing was as easy and regular as if I'd taken a short stroll through our island's forest. Not a single bead of sweat dotted my brow; my physical condition made the entire ordeal, the first phase of the Hunter Exam, feel effortless. The gap between my preparation and the average hopeful was vaster than I'd anticipated.
My gaze swept over the remaining 78 individuals. The survivors were a mix – some looked physically powerful but battered, their faces grim with fatigue, their clothes torn. Others were wiry and alert, their eyes scanning the surroundings even as they rested, demonstrating mental resilience alongside physical capability. A few seemed almost untouched like myself, their clothes relatively clean, their breathing calm. These were the ones to watch, potentially naturally gifted or perhaps possessing hidden skills. And then there was Tonpa, looking tired but ultimately unharmed, sitting on the sand with a handful of other survivors, already chatting amiably, likely spinning tales of his 'hardship' or subtly assessing the competition. His survival was, in its own way, impressive – a testament to sheer cunning and low-level strategy over raw power.
Seventy-nine left, I mused, the number a sharp reduction from the starting pool of 351. This group is significantly more competent than the initial chaos on the ship or in the cavern, the chaff well and truly removed. But the real challenges, the ones that test more than just basic physicals and awareness, the ones that will demand strategic thinking, adaptability, and perhaps even... more subtle capabilities... are surely yet to come. The thought didn't bring apprehension, but a quiet sense of anticipation. The foundation was solid. The first official phase was passed. Now, the actual Exam could begin.
The desert stretched out, silent and vast, under the burning sun, waiting for the next phase to be revealed. I waited with it, feeling a quiet confidence settle within me. The game was just beginning.