Fiends (2)

Elijah stood beside the plump student who had warned him during their previous encounter. The student, whose name Elijah now knew was Dameon, seemed tolerable, and Elijah found himself gravitating towards him as they prepared for the test. The test required students to form teams of four, a necessity due to the strength of the Daemones they would be facing. Unlike the Gobels and the Black Jackals, the Insectoid Daemones were far more formidable, and no one could hope to survive alone.

The group stood before the towering wall that marked the boundary of District A2. It was an imposing structure, constructed from thick concrete reinforced with steel, designed to withstand the relentless assaults of the Daemones. In the center of the wall was a massive gate, large enough to allow military vehicles to pass through with ease. As the gate began to open, it did so slowly, revealing a narrow gap just wide enough for the students to enter one by one.

A military officer, the same one who had welcomed them earlier, stepped forward to address the group. His expression was stern, and his voice carried the weight of authority as he spoke.

"Listen up," he began. "You're about to enter District A2, a zone infested with Insectoid Daemones. These creatures are unlike anything you've faced before. They range from mutated cockroaches to worms, all twisted by whatever dark power brought them here. They look like they crawled straight out of hell, and the smallest among them is the size of a golden retriever. They're fast, they're deadly, and they won't hesitate to rip you apart."

A murmur of disgust rippled through the group as the students processed the idea of hunting giant insects. The thought of facing such grotesque creatures clearly unsettled many of them, their faces twisted in revulsion.

The officer continued, unperturbed by their reactions. "You'll be moving in teams of four. Your watches are equipped with a distress signal. If things go south, activate it, and a military squad will be dispatched to extract you. However, if you use the signal, your test ends immediately, and your performance will be scored based on how many Daemones you managed to kill up to that point. Make no mistake—this is a dangerous mission, but it's also your chance to prove yourselves. Fail to kill ten Daemones each, and you'll lose your chance to participate in the final exams, but the more you kill, the better your ranking. The top students will receive rewards, so kill as many as you can."

He paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. The students nodded, acknowledging the rules. Elijah could feel the tension in the air, the weight of the challenge ahead pressing down on everyone.

The gate creaked open further, revealing the broken remnants of what had once been a city. The buildings were crumbling, their windows shattered, and their walls covered in greenery and weeds. Nature had reclaimed much of the area, but the presence of the Daemones had left it in a state of decay. The streets were cracked and overgrown, with vines snaking their way through the asphalt, and the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and rot.

The students began to move, splitting up into their respective teams as they ventured into the dilapidated city. Elijah's team stayed together, surveying their surroundings cautiously. The sense of danger was palpable, and every shadow seemed to hide the lurking threat of a Daemone.

As they reached a relatively open area, the four of them stopped to introduce themselves. Elijah didn't know any of the other students well since he was new to the class, and this was their first real chance to talk.

Dameon, the plump student, spoke first. "My name is Dameon. I've been a Bellator for five months now. My Soulshards are defense-related and one for speed." He seemed confident enough, and Elijah had a good impression of him, nodding with a smile.

Next was a tall, lean student with sharp features. "I'm Jacob," he said, his voice calm but with a hint of arrogance. "Been a Bellator for nine months. My Soulshards are ranged, with a defense and speed ones."

A wiry, serious-looking boy named Lee followed. "I'm Lee. Been a Bellator for three months. I only have three Soulshards, all sword-related offensive ones."

Finally, it was Elijah's turn. He looked at the group and introduced himself. "I'm Elijah. Been a Bellator a little over a week. My Soulshards are ranged, stealth, and the rest are support."

The moment the words left his mouth, Jacob's face twisted into a frown. "A little over a week? Are you shitting me?" His tone was filled with disbelief and disdain. "A little over a week? What the fuck? Was Klein that big of a trash to lose to a rookie like you?" Jacob's attitude shifted completely upon hearing how little experience Elijah had. The respect he might have held for him evaporated, replaced by a sneer. "I am aiming for the top spot, so don't hold me back, got it?"

Elijah met Jacob's gaze with a calm smile, the tension between them crackling in the air. Without missing a beat, he responded, his voice steady and cutting. "Go fuck yourself."

For a moment, the air was thick with unspoken hostility, the challenge hanging between them.

Elijah flashed a grin, ignoring Jacob's condescending remarks as he reached for his newly acquired sword—a peak-grade basic-level weapon, the best he could find in the area. The old knife hung at his waist, ready to be used as a support weapon when needed. Without a word, Elijah moved away from the group, his movements fluid and silent.

In an instant, he became a phantom as he used the Black Jackal's Stealth Soulshard, slicing through a giant earthworm Daemonium before it could even react. The creature was bisected with a clean slash, its body falling apart with a sickening squelch.

Slash

Slash

Slash

Elijah's watch beeped incessantly, registering each kill as his points skyrocketed. The speed and precision of his movements were astonishing, leaving Jacob, Lee, and Dameon staring in disbelief.

"What the fuck!" Jacob muttered, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. "A little over a week, and he's this strong? Did his parents leave him something? Lucky bastard."

He exchanged a glance with the others, and they quickly decided to move. The three of them started hunting, their initial shock giving way to determination. The Insectoid Daemones were strong, but their team was more than capable of handling the challenge. Jacob used his ranged attacks to take down enemies from a distance, while Lee's swordsmanship cleaved through anything that got too close. Dameon, though struggling at times, relied on his defensive abilities to keep the creatures at bay. Whenever he faltered, Elijah was there, stepping in to cover him with swift, decisive strikes.

Their hunt was efficient, almost methodical. The Insectoid Daemones—massive mutated versions of common insects—fell one by one. Elijah's ability to anticipate their movements and exploit their weaknesses made the team's task much easier. They pushed deeper into the city, the ruined buildings and overgrown streets becoming more oppressive as they ventured further.

Eventually, they found themselves in a part of the city where the decaying structures loomed ominously. It was here that they spotted a large group of mosquito-like Daemones swarming in the distance. These creatures were the stuff of nightmares, with bodies the size of large dogs and long, needle-like proboscises that could suck a cow dry in seconds.

Elijah noticed them first and signaled the others to stop. "Hold up," he whispered, his voice tense. The swarm moved as a single entity, their buzzing a low, ominous drone that sent shivers down their spines.

"Get inside," he urged, pointing to a dilapidated building nearby. The structure was barely holding together, its walls cracked and covered in ivy, but it would have to do.

They hurried inside, careful to avoid making noise. The interior was dark and musty, with broken furniture and debris scattered across the floor. The windows were shattered, allowing slivers of sunlight to filter through the overgrowth outside. They crouched low, hiding behind an overturned desk as the sound of buzzing grew louder.

The tension in the air was palpable. Each of them knew what those Daemones were capable of—a single sting could drain a person of their strength, leaving them vulnerable to the rest of the swarm. Even the strongest Bellator would struggle against such numbers.

"Stay quiet," Elijah whispered, his hand gripping his sword tightly. The others nodded, their faces pale with fear. For now, all they could do was wait, hoping the swarm would pass by without noticing them.