Chapter 55: Aptitude Test (7)

Administrator Vaencel had been reviewing the status reports from the Sapphire Sector, his sharp eyes scanning the live feeds with detached precision.

A group had just triggered a river guardian, and another was attempting to barter with a sentient fungus.

All within expected parameters, students performing as calculated.

Progress is predictable.

Growth measurable.

Then the door behind him slammed open.

“Administrator!”

A junior invigilator, wide-eyed, pale, rushed in, a datapad trembling in his grip.

“You… you need to see what’s happening in the Ruby Sector.”

Vaencel’s brow furrowed.

“Ruby? What now? I thought the guardian statues had already been activated there.”

“They have,” the invigilator said breathlessly.

“But this is… this is something else.”

Vaencel was already moving, his long coat sweeping behind him as he strode down the hall, past the glass monitoring chambers and stunned staff.

He entered the observation platform for the Ruby Sector, where a handful of invigilators were already gathered, murmuring in confusion as they watched the enchanted scrying projections.

The forest below looked like it was under siege from some unknown force, but not from below.

It was from above.

Tiny specks darted across the glowing maps, paper cranes by the dozens, no, hundreds.

Some were folded from parchment or spare notebook pages, others made from scavenged cloth, even a few stitched together with leaves and string.

They flitted and soared over the forest canopy like a cloud of living spirits.

Some birds of prey, hawks, wyverns, and mana-mutated vultures, rained down from the skies in a frenzy, tearing into the cranes mid-flight.

Shreds of paper drifted down like snow.

But for every one destroyed, another two seemed to emerge from the treetops, circling like scouts before suddenly diving back into the forest depths as if they had seen something worth reporting.

“Is… is someone directing those?”

One invigilator whispered.

“They’re acting like a surveillance net.”

“They’re not just random spells,” another said.

“Look at the patterns. Look how they regroup. That’s controlled behavior.”

Vaencel stood silent, eyes narrowed in calculation.

A senior invigilator stepped forward.

“Should we intervene, Administrator? This could be an external disturbance. Or an illegal artifact. Do you want us to neutralize the source?”

Vaencel raised a hand, slowly.

“No.”

The room went quiet.

“Whatever this is,” he said, voice low but clear, “it’s coming from within the Ruby Sector. This isn’t an outside force, it’s one of the examinees.”

He trailed off, watching as another crane dodged a firebird mid-dive and vanished into the trees like it had never existed.

The invigilators exchanged glances.

“Do we at least tag the source for future analysis?”

One asked hesitantly.

Vaencel didn’t turn.

“No. Not yet. Focus all observation mana arrays on the Ruby Sector. Mark every path, every confrontation, and every crane that lands. I want a full map of wherever they’re going, whoever they’re watching.”

“And the examinee responsible?”

Someone asked.

Vaencel finally smiled, thin and slow.

“If my instincts are right,” he murmured, “then we are about to witness something extraordinary unfold from the Ruby Sector. Don’t disturb the forest.”

He turned, hands clasped behind his back, eyes gleaming.

***

Back in the quiet, flickering firelight of the cave, Balt finally broke the silence.

“Your plan,” he said, glancing at Lucien, “is reckless. And borderline suicidal.”

Lucien didn’t flinch at the critique.

He was already expecting it.

Corin, on the other hand, just shrugged as he leaned back against the cool stone wall.

“Maybe. But what about this test hasn’t been reckless? Might as well gamble if it’s our best shot.”

Lucien let out a small sigh, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Let me repeat it then, for clarity’s sake.”

He leaned forward, drawing lines in the dirt with a burnt stick, sketching out the crude geography of the Ruby Sector.

“My plan is simple. I send out the cranes, paper, cloth, leaves, whatever I can scrounge. I imbue them with a directive: Find the others. Any other examinees still wandering in the forest. Once the cranes find them, they’ll hover, guide, maybe even tug at them if needed. Eventually, they’ll all be brought here, to this cave.”

Balt raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“And once they’re here?”

Lucien looked up.

“We talk. We gather. And then, we march. A unit. Brute force our way through. Numbers will be our advantage.”

Corin let out a low whistle.

“You’re planning to form an army of traumatized teenagers.”

Lucien gave a sheepish grin.

“...Basically.”

Balt looked unconvinced.

“Even if they follow the cranes, even if they make it here, we have no guarantee they’ll cooperate. Some of them might be hostile. Opportunistic. Looking to sabotage others to gain an edge.”

Corin nodded thoughtfully but then waved a hand.

“True. But after what we’ve all been through, being hunted, half-eaten, nearly stomped by living statues, I think most of the others will take any hand offered. The number of aggressive, solo-types should be a minority by now.”

Lucien nodded in agreement.

“It’s a risk, yes. But what isn’t at this point? Let’s be honest, the most physically capable of us is you, Corin, and even you’re running on fumes. If that’s what the best of us looks like, what chance do the rest have?”

Corin laughed, throwing his head back.

“If this test was a proper battle royale, things would’ve been so much easier.”

“Don’t say that so casually,” Balt groaned, glaring from his spot propped against the wall.

“You make it sound like fighting to the death is your idea of a fun weekend.”

Corin just grinned, completely unbothered.

“It’s not my fault bookworms have glass bones.”

‘I will trap you inside a paper sarcophagus and set it on fire,’ Lucien thought to himself..

Corin laughed louder.

“Alright, alright,” Lucien cut in before the bickering spiraled again.

“Look, this only works if we’re united. If we start this plan and then falter when others arrive, it’ll all fall apart. We need to be on the same page, especially when we try to rally the others.”

Corin gave a casual thumbs-up.

“I’m in. Beats wandering the woods alone. And I’m curious to see what kind of weirdos your paper birds bring back.”

Balt remained silent for a moment.

Then he exhaled, slowly, reluctantly.

“I still think this is a long shot... but I trust you. And it’s not like I have much choice. Not in my condition.”

He looked at Lucien with tired but determined eyes.

“Just… don’t let this blow up in our faces.”

Lucien smiled, the kind that barely concealed how scared he was too.

“I won’t.”

They sat in silence for a moment, only the crackle of the fire and the distant drip of cave water accompanying them.

Somewhere far above, dozens of paper cranes danced in the sky, each carrying a sliver of intent, an echo of a strange, hopeful plan.

And for the first time since entering the forest, the three of them weren’t thinking about just surviving.

They were thinking about winning.

***

The sound of shuffling feet reached them before the figures appeared.

All three turned toward the cave entrance, Lucien with cautious hope, Corin with a hand near his weapon, and Balt half-raising his head despite the pain.

Two silhouettes stepped into the light.

One was a girl clutching a staff, her posture hunched, one arm wrapped tightly around another girl beside her.

The second girl, thinner and paler, leaned heavily into her, her wand barely held in trembling fingers, her face flushed with exertion and sickness.

The staff-bearing girl’s eyes scanned the cave, widened slightly as she saw the trio near the fire, and then locked onto Lucien.

“Please- help,” she gasped, voice breathless but steady as she guided her friend toward the fire.

“She’s not well.”

Lucien was already moving, motioning for them to bring her closer to where Balt was resting.

“Lay her down here, carefully. It’s safe.”

The girl with the wand let out a sharp breath of relief as she sat her friend beside Balt, her own legs visibly shaking beneath her.

Lucien crouched by the sick girl, noting her pale lips and the occasional tremor in her limbs.

“She’s dehydrated,” he muttered.

He reached into Balt’s pouch and offered a flask filled with spring water.

“Here, give her water. Small sips.”

“Thank you,” the girl whispered, her hands trembling as she helped her friend drink.

Corin came forward, eyeing them both with curiosity.

“What happened?”

He asked gently, gesturing toward the sick girl.

“She…”

The girl hesitated, then spoke, her voice thick with guilt.

“She ate some berries. I told her not to, we weren’t sure what they were, but she said she felt faint and needed something. And since then, she’s been throwing up, shaking… I didn’t know what to do. Then one of those paper birds showed up. I thought it was some kind of miracle.”

Lucien nodded, his expression calm.

“You made the right call following it. This place is safe, for now. Let her rest, and you too. We’ll talk once she’s a little better.”

The girl hesitated, looking between the three of them.

“Are there others here?”

“Not yet,” Lucien said, offering a faint smile.

“But they’re coming.”

The girl gave a tired nod and turned her attention back to her friend, holding the flask with both hands as she guided another sip.

Corin stepped beside Lucien and leaned in.

“You see that?”

He whispered, nudging Lucien with a grin.

“It’s working. Your paper flocks are leading people in. And if she carried her friend all this way, she’s definitely the cooperative type.”

Lucien smirked, just a little.

“Glad to see your optimism has a use. Just don’t get too giddy, you might scare them off.”

Corin chuckled, raising both hands.

“Alright, alright. I’ll dial it down.”

But before they could say more, the air shifted, faint rustles, crunches of twigs and dry leaves.

Shadows danced along the cave’s mouth.

Lucien turned, squinting past the firelight.

Silhouettes.

Not one or two.

More.

He could make out the forms of at least five or six people approaching, cautiously, like animals sniffing the edges of a trap.

Balt raised his head weakly, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

“Looks like the postman’s got his hands full.”

Lucien exhaled, not sure whether to laugh or brace himself.

Because the next part, the hardest part, was about to begin.

Convincing them to stay.

And convincing them to trust.

***

The jungle breathed in darkness.

Outside the cave, the forest hissed and whispered like something alive.

Twigs snapped.

Wind rustled leaves that were far too still just a moment ago.

Somewhere in the distance, something large let out a guttural roar, and it was answered by a chorus of smaller, sharper cries.

But inside the cave, there was only the fire.

Its flickering light danced along the rough walls, painting everyone’s faces in gold and shadow.

Eighteen of them had gathered, eighteen survivors of the forest's relentless cruelty.

Some slumped in exhaustion.

Others stared blankly into the flame.

A few quietly cried, shoulders shaking, hands clenched into fists.

Balt dozed in and out of sleep, bandaged and feverish beside the spring.

Corin sat nearby, legs crossed, blade resting across his lap like a loyal dog.

Lucien stood at the cave’s mouth, watching the forest.

He had sent out ten more paper cranes before dusk, one made of leaf, another folded from a strip of shirt fabric, another from tree bark etched with a crude mana script.

Only two had returned.

No others.

No silhouettes on the horizon.

No fluttering wings.

Just the endless dark.

Eventually, with a sigh, Lucien turned and walked back to the fire.

He counted the group again.

Eighteen.

Most were injured. Limping, bandaged, bloodied.

A few sat in tight clusters, heads pressed together, whispering, hoping no one else could hear their fear.

Others kept to themselves, clutching their packs or blades like lifelines.

Lucien opened his mouth to speak, only for Corin to beat him to it.

“Alright. So. Quick pitch.”

Everyone looked up, if only to glare.

Corin gave a crooked grin and tapped his axe handle.

“We’re going to band together, rush the road, and make a break for it. Everyone who sticks with us lives. Probably. Maybe. Better odds than dying out there alone, at least.”

Silence followed.

Then.

“What kind of plan is that?”

Someone scoffed.

A girl, knees drawn to her chest, hair singed at the ends.

“She’s right,” muttered a boy with a cracked lens on his glasses.

“We don’t even know where the road ends.”

“We’ll die out there,” whispered another, hugging a staff like a teddy bear.

“The forest wants us dead.”

Corin scratched his head.

“Okay, so that’s three votes for despair. Cool, cool.”

Lucien cleared his throat and stepped forward.