Annual Forest Hunting Competition
The tread of heavy footsteps boomed like thunder in slow motion along the marble walkway, shattering the silence that clung to the estate gate.
All heads swiveled. A commanding, tall figure came into their sight—Viscount Theo Vale. His black hair was well-combed back, his cold black eyes unemotional. Clad in a stately golden robe lined with deep crimson, he strode with the dignity of nobility and the weight of power. Each step fell like a proclamation.
Behind him trailed a grey-haired butler—Walton, always dignified in his bearing. Behind the butler trailed the two strange young figures who stuck close behind. To look at them is like looking at Twins.
He was a young man—with a weapon-hewn body. Towering, thick-set, with wide shoulders and mighty limbs like they were honed for battles alone. His skin had a sun-baked bronze color, and his short, untamed hair—black as the night—matched the storm that raged in his bright Black eyes. Even in the good travel garb, he exuded the air of a battle madman barely contained.
The other was young woman resemble his twin sister. She walked with the poise, but her beauty seemed untouched by pride. Her dark, wavy hair fell below her waist like a raven's shroud, shining in the morning sun. Her Black eyes danced with wonder and unobtrusive mischief. Her shape was… breathtaking. Each curve, each step emitted natural beauty—her breasts full and firm, her waist small, her hips beautifully chiseled. A picture of perfect proportion. But what made her truly striking wasn't her physique—it was her gentle smile, a perfect mixture of innocence and intelligence.
Even with their differences, the similarity between the twins was undeniable: the same patrician facial structure, the same bone-deep charisma.
They halted just short of the gathered crowd.
Orion, Elara, Edric, and Arin bowed and greeted in unison, their voices strong and greet viscount Theo Vale, "Greeting Father."
Celia and Sera gave a gracious nod. "Greeting Lord Theo."
Lysandra's voice was respectfully formal. "Greeting Lord Viscount."
The rest of their classmates and guards followed, repeating, "Greeting Lord Viscount."
Viscount only nodded slightly on their greetings and did not say anything.
Butler Walton emerged with a deferential smile. "Saluting Lady Celia. Lady Sera."
Celia gave a courteous nod with her customary warmth. "Good morning, Walton."
Sera smiled weakly and nodded her head respectfully. "As ever, punctual."
Walton laughed, the creases on his worn face relaxing. "Too good of you, my ladies."
Then, turning marginally, he made a gentle gesture to the two people behind him.
"Lady Celia, Lady Sera… these two—you might know them. My daughter and son. Lira Walton and Rey Walton."
Every eye turned to the siblings.
Orion's eyes focused. He recalled.
He'd heard, all those years before, that Walton had kids—twins, no less. But he never got to meet them. And then, He recalls both of them little dearly from blessing ceremony. This is the boy who'd gotten himself a Golden Blessing in the ceremony. And the girl to his side—Lira—had the lightest Silver Blessing of the lot.
The two moved ahead with dignified poise.
Rey stood unmoved, his eyes scanning the group like an old veteran. Lira, though calm, flicked a couple of hasty glances around at everyone—her eyes rested just slightly longer on Orion. His bluish-white locks shone in the morning light like spun moonlight. His angular features, his stillness, his presence—he was like one of the old legend's princes.
Her heart took a small, unwanted flutter.
"S-so handsome…" she breathed in heart and She glanced away at once, cheeks flushing barely at all. A subtle color—who enough to go unnoticed by anyone.
Sera moved forward with a small smile.
"Of course we know them, Walton. How could we not? They're your Children. So, they are family to us."
Celia's voice came after. "You've worked for this house longer than any servant and that makes you family. These two belong to the Vale family by bond, if not blood."
Walton bowed low. "You do me too much honour. But I am merely a humble servant."
He caught, out of the corner of his eye, Viscount Theo glance him way—cold, unreadable on his remark. Walton cleared his "Rey. Lira. Welcome the ladies."
The twins bowed politely.
"Lady Celia. Lady Sera," they parroted with impeccable manners.
Celia lifted her hand modestly. "No need for titles. Call us Aunt Celia and Aunt Sera."
Twins blinked. And both gave perplexed glances but smiled immediately, nodding.
"Yes… Aunt Celia, Aunt Sera."
"Good," Sera chuckled. "That's better."
Walton's face softened. For an instant, something stirred in him—not merely pride, but thankfulness. As if, for the space of a breath, class and rank no longer applied.
Walton smiled and went on with introductions, nodding to the rest.
"This is Young Master Orion, Young Mistress Elara, and Young Masters Edric and Arin. This is Lady Lysandra Voss, Voss Imperial Academy."
Rey nodded politely, Lira bowing graciously—but her gaze flashed back to Orion, just a fraction longer. Their greetings were met with small nods in return—though Rey's eyes lingered a beat longer on Orion, as if measuring the impact of his presence.
Orion returned his gaze briefly—unfazed, serene.
Theo had said nothing at all.
Finally, Sera spoke, voice icy. "My Lord. You allowed Edric and his other classmate to enter the novice competition?"
Theo nodded slowly, his voice low and uninterested.
"Yes. He asked. I granted."
Celia's forehead creased. "But… it's for Novices."
"He asked. I saw no harm," Theo said bluntly, turning his eyes away.
Sera opened her mouth again—but Walton, sensing the tension escalate, stepped forward smoothly.
"My lord, my ladies… if I may. We must leave for the venue. The competition is about to start."
Theo said no more. Rather, he turns and walk to frontmost carriage and he boarded.
Lady Celia and Lady Sera shared a quiet look, then boarded another. Orion glanced at Elara and nodded.
"Let's go."
She smiled with warmth in her eyes. "Yes, brother."
They rode together in a carriage. Walton took another with Rey and Lira, while Lysandra, Edric, Arin, and the rest of their friends took the other carriages.
The ride to the southern gate lasted twenty minutes. When the carriages finally stopped, dust and wind welcomed them.
The huge southern clearing of Valeric City had been transformed in grand arena in a breathtaking way.
Where previously grass and wildflowers danced in isolation, today loomed a great arena—brilliant and dynamic. Banners of bright color streamed along the borders of the broad-open field, each emblazoned with the sigil of a merchant guild or noble house. Grandstands made of magical whitewood had been built in steps, each row being reserved for a distinct class of viewer. Nobles dressed in their best silks lounged beneath parasols, eyes bright and searching. Merchants held their ledgers and wager tickets, and plebeians cheered from behind golden frame railings, their passion sending electric fervour into the morning air.
In the very center of the grounds, three elevated thrones rested upon a stone pedestal covered in red and gold. Delicately carved with fantastical creatures and sigils of the Vale House, At the top, three elaborately carved thrones waited for the reigning lords and ladies of Valeric City. Theo sat in the middle, while Celia and Sera occupied either side, regal and serene.
A sudden silence settled over the crowd as Butler Walton, dressed in formal black and a silver sash, walked onto a wooden platform at the bottom of the platform. He lifted one hand, and the crowd complied with instinctive quiet.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice sounded out, calm and clear. "Welcome to the Annual Forest Hunting Competition."
A ripple of excitement spread through the field—cheers swelling, children waving banners, and nobles whispering with expectation.
"This spectacle," Walton went on, "is more than ritual. It is a test of growth, ability, and bravery—a trial of our up-and-coming generation. Through the Southern Forest roam magical creatures—anything from the power of a One-Star Novice to, at best, a One-Star Apprentice, but none deadly peril for our young generation."
He stopped, allowing that promise to fall on the audience. "It is a challenging, but safe testing ground for rising generation."
He faced the contestants now standing behind him—Orion, Elara, Lysandra, Edric, Arin, Rey, Lira, and so many more.
"The game is easy. You're to hunt as many magical creatures as possible. You don't have to bring the whole carcass—just their eyes as evidence."
He halted.
"Harming or attacking each other is absolutely not allowed. But you can join teams… or venture alone. Stealing beast eyes is not illegal—but physical fighting among participants is."
Gasps and murmurs rolled over the field.
He glared sharply at the participants.
"You can join teams… or venture alone. Stealing eyes from one another is not illegal. But note carefully—fighting among participants is absolutely not allowed."
Gasps ran like fire through the crowd, particularly among the young spectators. The air was charged with tension.
Walton let it hang, then added with a grin, "Let it be a game of fun, not war."
"The contest ends at sundown. The one with the most eyes shall be the winner."
One more thing before finishing start, "This year Young Master Edric and his classmates also join Annual Forest Hunting Competition."
Before he could go on, a noble in the crowd stood up.
"Excuse me! How Young Master Edric and his classmates join? They are already in the Apprentice Realm! And this competition only for novice!"
A strained silence spread.
Walton smiled blandly, undeterred.
"Yes. Young Master Edric, and their class has been allowed to join. while wearing mana suppression bracelets."
He held up his hand, showing the silvery bands around Edric's, Arin's, Lysandra's, and other's wrists who is in Apprentice realm.
"Those magical bands suppress their cultivation to the Novice Realm."
One of the onlookers seemed to be ready to make a comment—but one look in the direction of Viscount Theo kept him quiet. The viscount's face hadn't moved, but his presence was sufficient.
Walton's voice called out once more, this time with increasing urgency. "And now…"
He spun and lifted his hand high into the air.
"Let the competition… begin!"
At the distant edge of the field, a group of guards emerged in line—each grasping the reins of an impressive steed. Thirty horses altogether—strong, proud, and filled with pent-up strength.
Gases and shouts were heard afresh as the steeds were escorted out—manes flowing in the sunlight, hooves stamping dust in restlessness.
"Volunteers, come out and select your mount!"
Gradually, one after another, the young cultivators came forward.
Orion stepped first, his pace serene, unflinching. His bluish-white hair glimmered in the sunlight like burnished silver. He went to a tall black stallion with a midnight mane and deep, thoughtful eyes. The beast snorted, but did not retreat—rather, it leaned forward, as if knowing him.
"You'll do," Orion whispered, laying a hand on its mane.
Elara next selected a elegant white mare with hooves the color of polished pearl and a pale silver stripe along its side.
"This one," she said, her face lighting up.
Mounting their horses with ease, the siblings fell into position at the front of the group. Orion glanced over his shoulder, giving one final look toward the raised platform.
Celia looked him in the eye—her smile gentle and proud. Sera nodded slightly with smile. He smiled in return.
Orion nodded again, silently vowing to make them proud.
But just as he looked away from his eyes. a flash in the crowd caught his attention.
Among the noble boxes, sitting in a carved chair among the merchant elite, was a woman with long, dark flowing hair. Her golden eyes met his with unnerving intensity—calm, unreadable, and yet… familiar. Laura Valtor.
Standing behind her, a hooded figure in black robes stood like a shadow, silent and still.
When their eyes met. She gave a soft smile— like she said – Good luck.
Orion blinked, nodded almost imperceptibly in greeting, and faced back to the field.
Next to him, Elara edged forward in her saddle. "Let's go, brother," she said, her eyes shining. "Let's take this."
He grinned. "Let's."
Walton lifted both arms, his voice trumpet-like.
"Begin!"
The field burst into movement.
Horses whinnied, hooves pounded the ground like thunder, and a whirlwind of dust and air erupted as three dozen young riders charged forward in a solid line. Their forms became indistinct as they hurtled toward the thick fringe of the Southern Forest, the border between human world and uncivilized magic drawing near.
Behind them, the onlookers exploded—cheering, laughing, anxiety—and the sunlight danced across the golden pennants as the test of the young cultivators finally commenced.