Becoming Legend - Chapter 347: Hunter Exam: Theatre of War, III

Four hours after Ned left the starting point, where the portal randomly transported him somewhere on the island, Ned got 200 points. Just like that.

Ned’s strategy was simple: hit and run.

In the four hours he has been traveling, Ned encountered a good number of candidates. Most of which were busy struggling with one another. Be it solo, or in a group.

While forcing his way amidst the chaos, Ned gained several enemies as well. Enemies he forcefully absorbed their Mana and put it into his own.

Ned also learned something about Storing Claims: if it was empty of Mana, no one, even him, could inject Mana as long as it wasn’t his. This also means that if for some reason, his Storing Claim was to be stolen, he has to retrieve it no matter the cost. Another, thing: Storing Claims were extremely fragile. Without them breaking, Ned might already have 400 points.

He has been traveling for nearly an hour, which makes it nearly five hours after he descended on the island, but he encountered no one.

Eventually, another hour has passed, Ned decided to stop at a nearby stream to take a break and rest. He quenched his thirst. Now, aside from accumulating points, making sure he was secure all the while, he also needed to find food.

Ned used Detect skill and found no candidates around him. Aside from several magical beasts, that were too low-tiered for him, there were none.

Ned then climbed the nearest, and the tallest tree he could find. But he was still aware. In a little time that the exam has started. He learned that trees weren’t safe at all. In fact, it was the most dangerous part for a candidate to stay. Especially if they wanted to rest. Ned rather dug a hole and mimic it with his environment rather than stay above the tree. But not that it matters to him. Even when he was soundly asleep, ICE was there to alarm him of any intruder. But it also needed the energy to maintain ICE while he was sleeping. So, his energy regeneration when sleeping was cut to half.

Ned wiped the tears forming above his forehead. He was far from the center of the island: where he needed to make it there in 7 days. But it seemed that the island has its own climate. Although it was nearing dusk, the temperature was rising too fast, Ned could feel the change of warmth around him.

Ned rose above the tree, he could sense different lifeforms but still no human. In the hours he has been traveling, Ned had vague information about the island. Currently, he was somewhere southwest of the island. Southwest was forest dense of the island, some hills were formed, but most of it were streams and a couple of fountains.

As for the magical beast involved, so far, there were the natives of the region: wargs, butrikis, goblins (the ones that were not sentient enough for Ned to communicate). There was a centipede-like beast, a bear with a pair of horns, and guulvorgs but the least ones that barely shoot thunderbolts off their tails.

As Ned leaned and balances himself over the branch of a tree, he saw a smoke stretched outward the horizon. The greyish smoke was like a rope stretched outward.

They might be candidates; they might be not. So at least they knew that making fire would reveal their current location.

But why would they reveal their location? Ned thought. Silver hair fluttering from the breeze blowing from the east. To his right, the sun was nearly setting. He must find a place before it happens, and the closest place to his preferences was a cave. But judging from the number of magical beasts lurking on the island, he might as well choose to stay atop a tree and be awake. For how long? Ned guessed he won’t have a problem staying awake for four days straight. But he assumed, at five days, his body would recognize fatigue.

Ned was deep in his thoughts that his Golden Core shook, waking him, and giving his focus back. He immediately pulled the Krisalix off its scabbard, which gave off a bluish and vibrating aura as the beam of the sun were reflected over its surface.

Ned heard footsteps under him.

“Candidates,” Ned muttered as he bent over an old and thick branch that almost cover his body, that remained unrecognizable from the bottom.

There were six of them, all of which held weapons except for the one in the middle: a kid roughly 18 or 19. At first look, the kid’s got a body of feminine, with hair braided down the waist, and leather jerkin the color of grass. But a long and steady look shows that the kid was a male, although his pants were fitted to fit his legs, he couldn’t hide his broad shoulders, and his back the shape of V.

Now, what could be the reason why he was with the group of other candidates that at first look, it was obviously wasn’t his team. The five wore pelt the color of wet soil. Even from above the ground, Ned could smell their sweat. So much that no matter how they hide, Ned could always pinpoint where they were.

They walk in a line of one as though securing the escape of the one in the middle. The one in front held a war-sword the size of his body, along with orbs attached to the belt of his waist (there were four of them, all of which enriched with Mana). The next two fellows held short-sword and wooden bucklers on their other hand. The last two behind the captive in the middle held bows and daggers hanging their waist.

Before the skill Detect wore off, Ned received blinking reds on his display.

“Six. Ten,” Ned muttered, “and more coming.”

It was an ambush. An ambush which he much preferred: hit and run, he thought and smiled. This was his plan for the last five hours on the island, and not even once he let his enemies die. He’s got no intention of him letting them die. Although they might be enemies for now, in the end, they were all the same: candidates.

The group went past Ned’s tree. Plants as high as a regular person were blocking both their sides. But as Ned was following them, the group was half-aware as possible they could be. Ned can’t ascertain for sure if the one in the middle was too afraid that he looks too pale, or he was simply uncaring at all.

“Fourteen,” Ned muttered under his breath. He could barely make out the intruder after the plants were blocking his view. But he was certain, they weren’t human with their intense speed. “You should be able on the defense by now,” Ned added, frowning after he saw the group still careless, and weapons not on the ready.

As the magical beast emerges on his view, Ned put on a little smirk as it was the first time he saw a Kruka-toa.

Ned had heard it from Master Will. But seeing them for the first time still fascinated him of these fishlike humanoids. They have the head of a frog and bulging eyes that no one could leave their vision. Some wore crafted shells, while others simply were none. The armored Kruka-toa held massive clubs on their thin arms. Their green and rough skin made Ned expects that blunt attacks most likely won’t work on them. Aside from them moving in a group of not less than seven, they were also graded C. Perhaps higher if they were sentient enough. But it seemed not so.

Slowly, the Kruka-toa circled the group. It seemed that this was their territory, and the smoke before? It was highly likely that it was their village.

“Don’t underestimate their retarded look, kid,” Master Will had once said to Ned. “But these fish thinks like Generals.”

“Generals,” Ned said, “and there were 14 of them.”

The Kruka-toa has stopped after they were in their position. Ned admired them after their warriors, that held stone clubs, knelt in front of their range attackers with harpoons as their weapons. All of which is a formation like a turtle: making sure that their shooter was protected enough but able to snap their harpoons.

Their leader, an orange spot with a crown made of vine, held its breath. Expanding the skin under his neck. Now he looks like a bullfrog. He raised his free hand and croaked to the loudest.

The warriors lunge themselves from a distance even normal humans won’t be able to do. The Kruka-toa’s legs were bent in an awkward manner where their joints the opposite of that of the humans, and these same joints they used to spring themselves to their prey.

And sprung they did after the group was caught off-guard.

The two behind the candidate with war-sword were taken off first after a harpoon lunges to their legs. The iron tip went to their legs like they were made of slimes, blood sprayed on the ground. The pair behind them were caught off guard as well and were surrounded before they could even nock an arrow. While the kid in jerkin jacket simply ducked and raised his hand in submission.

Unlike the rest, the lead warrior swept a pair of Kruka-toa that went straight at him, with clubs ready for attack. He held his war-sword in an offensive position. He was bent so hard he needed the inclination to support the weight of his sword.

“That’s too heavy for you,” Ned muttered.

In that same moment, the lead warrior’s arms expanded and brown fur extending. His hair grew as though time was spent too fast while his Y sharpened under his jaw. He then growled in a manner all Were were supposed to do when taunting.