The Trap

At six in the morning, a small military magic-powered craft descended into the center of the camp. It was a patrol vessel, shaped like a prism with a pointed front and a wider rear, its metallic body emblazoned with the emblem of the "Owl Wolves" of the 13th District Surface Defense Army. Powered by cubic energy, it had two propulsion engines at the tail, and the arc-shaped armored canopy housed the cockpit, equipped with twin linked explosive cannons and ground missile launchers on either wing.

In terms of firepower, such a small magic-powered craft was far from outstanding. Its size and engine limitations meant it couldn't carry heavy weapons, so it was typically used for patrolling the periphery of administrative regions.

Nevertheless, it was the first time the youths had seen a magic-powered craft up close, and Asher's eyes shone with excitement, as did the other two.

"If you get the chance to leave, you'll see plenty of bigger and more impressive magic-powered ships on Babylon," Lieutenant Ronan stood before the craft, arms crossed, and continued, "Listen, this vessel will take you to the assessment location. Consider this a warm-up for the Death Arena. You have three days to eliminate your opponents, but all activities must be confined within the marked area. Anyone who crosses the forbidden zone in an attempt to escape, believe me, it won't be a pleasant decision."

Melly's expression changed slightly at the lieutenant's words.

"Check your gear. If there are no issues, go ahead and board," Ronan patted the ship's hull, and the rear of the craft opened to reveal a cabin with just four seats—more than enough for the three youths.

Their belongings were minimal, mainly weapons. As for supplies, they would have to fend for themselves in the wilderness.

Asher, carrying Rampage, was the first to climb into the rear cabin, followed by Mauro and Melly. The four seats were arranged two by two. Asher settled into a seat on the left after placing Rampage beside him and fastened his safety belt as instructed by the pilot. Mauro and Melly took their seats on the right, and six eyes met in mid-air.

As the cabin door closed, Ronan wished them luck from outside, "Good luck, you little devils."

Once the door was sealed, soft lighting filled the cabin. Through the side windows, they could see the craft smoothly ascending, yet the entire process was free of any jolts, with only a faint hum from the propulsion engines beneath their feet.

"Watch your back because I'll blow it off with this baby," Mauro fondled his sniper rifle and placed his other hand on Melly's leg, smirking at Asher.

Asher grinned back, "You know what? I'm going to shove Rampage into your mouth and slice off your head. So you better talk all you want now because you won't be able to soon."

The tension between the two boys filled the cabin with a volatile atmosphere. Melly, uneasy, kept her head down, avoiding glancing at either Asher or Mauro.

Soon, the magic-powered craft reached the assessment area overhead. Following Ronan's instructions, the pilot dropped the three youths off at different points in the forest. Asher was the last to disembark, and as the craft hovered just ten meters above the ground, he jumped out with Rampage in hand. Rolling forward upon landing, he dissipated the force of the fall.

Looking up, the craft was already ascending, its tail engines emitting twin azure flames as it swiftly departed.

Once the craft was gone, the forest returned to tranquility. After six months, Asher was back in the wild. He took a deep breath of the free air before heading eastward through the trees. His first priority wasn't to seek out Mauro and Melly but to ascertain the boundaries of the assessment area and understand the battlefield environment—a habit formed from years of hunting. Like the snow wolves, before attacking their prey, they first needed to know their surroundings to plan their approach and ensure the prey had no escape.

After more than an hour, Asher found the edge of the assessment area marked by barbed wire and skull and crossbones signs at intervals, their meaning quite clear.

He ran along the perimeter, and it took an entire day to confirm the full extent of the area. It was vast, with dense forests, two valleys, and a river. Along the way, he hollowed out young tree trunks and filled them with water from the river, hiding these water sources in several concealed locations. Water was the most crucial supply. With these refill points, Asher wouldn't need to expose himself by the river.

As night fell, he continued to move through the forest. The darkness couldn't confuse his sense of direction; the stars above guided him. At certain strategic points, Asher set up simple yet deadly traps. After a busy night, he climbed a tree and concealed himself among the dense leaves to sleep.

With the sunrise came the second day of the assessment.

Mauro was growing restless.

After parachuting down the previous day, he had found a high vantage point to search for and snipe Asher. However, the white-haired boy seemed to have vanished into thin air, and Mauro's long wait turned up nothing. Frustrated, Mauro decided to take the offensive, scouring the forest for Asher. A sniper's advantage in the forest was significant, with long-range shots turning them into fearsome killers. But the downside was just as apparent.

Snipers should stay still, not move—a point the instructors had repeatedly emphasized. When a sniper reveals their position, it's a dangerous affair. But Mauro, eager to eliminate Asher, had pushed the instructors' advice to the back of his mind.

After a fruitless day, Mauro stumbled upon the river. It meandered through the mountains, sometimes through ravines or underground, with few accessible segments for drawing water. Mauro had an epiphany; Asher might not eat, but he had to drink. What better place to ambush than by the riverbank?

So at dawn, he chose a relatively flat section of the river as his stakeout spot. Mauro hid in a camphor tree away from the bank, concealed by the leaves, with his rifle aimed at the river. Yet the morning passed without a sign of Asher.

As impatience set in, Mauro suddenly noticed a ripple in the leaves near the riverbank, and Asher's cautious figure emerged in the shade.

"He's here," Mauro licked his lips, focusing through the scope, "Come out, just a little more. That's it, white-haired boy."

Through the scope, Asher scanned his surroundings vigilantly. But at a distance of six or seven hundred meters, Mauro was beyond Asher's detection range. After observing for ten minutes, Asher approached the riverbank, and Mauro cursed under his breath at the boy's caution.

Finally, Asher reached the water's edge. Thirsty, he plunged into the river and began to drink voraciously. Mauro chuckled darkly, aligning the crosshairs of his scope on Asher's head. He took a deep breath, his finger steady on the trigger. But just as he was about to fire, Asher, like an alert deer, lifted his head and looked in Mauro's direction.

"Damn, he's spotted me," Mauro thought, with no time to hesitate, he pressed the trigger.

But at the same moment, Asher leaped up, and the bullet hit the river's surface. Asher turned and ran, and Mauro adjusted his aim for another shot. By then, Asher had vanished into the woods, and whether the shot hit was unknown. Mauro descended from the tree and ran to the riverbank, following Asher's trail into the forest. He hadn't gone far when he found a bloody handprint and a trail of blood on the fallen leaves.

Mauro laughed, certain Asher was wounded. It was an opportunity he couldn't miss. Carrying his rifle, he followed the blood trail deeper into the woods.

At the same time, in a corner of the mountains, Melly looked up. Two gunshots echoed in the distance, and after determining their direction, she left.

Half an hour later, Mauro crouched behind a bush. Near a boulder on the left, he spotted a patch of green camouflage. The camouflage moved slightly, then retreated behind the rock.

Asher was hiding there—Mauro was sure of it. The blood trail indicated that Asher was injured, and from the increasing stains, it seemed the second shot had hit its mark. Mauro couldn't help but whistle; Asher was trapped. He firmly believed this, and if he followed the instructors' guidance, he should have waited for Asher to emerge and then taken the fatal shot.

But Mauro had no patience for waiting. In his view, what could a half-dead white-haired boy do? He emerged from the bushes, not rushing forward. The ground was covered in leaves that would rustle with movement. Mauro moved slowly and lightly. It took him ten minutes to cover a few dozen meters. As he stealthily stepped onto the rock, he was certain victory was smiling at him.

"You're done for," he thought, then leaped onto the boulder, rifle at the ready. But the sight that greeted him wasn't Asher crouched behind the rock but a deer with its throat slashed, dressed in a bloody uniform!

Mauro was stunned, then a whistling sound came from behind. He turned just in time to see a shirtless Asher leap from the leaf-covered ground. The broadsword, Rampage, traced a beautiful arc through the air, aiming straight for Mauro's head!

It was a trap!

Mauro realized too late. He shouted and jumped off the rock. Rampage missed his head but grazed his chest, the sharp blade carving a bloody swath. Mauro hit the ground, fired a shot upwards to fend off Asher, then turned and fled. He crashed into the forest, and soon after, a scream echoed through the trees.

In that direction lay another trap Asher had set, meant to prevent prey from escaping, and it seemed Mauro had run straight into it. Asher picked up Rampage, ready to pursue Mauro, but suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He rolled to the ground and dove into the bushes. Gunshots followed, the sound of automatic pistols firing.

The image of a hesitant, fearful girl flashed through Asher's mind: Melly!

Perhaps feeling desperate and helpless, she had taken up her guns and entered the fight. Considering how close she had been to Mauro in the past two months, Asher doubted she would ally with him. Without hesitation, he set off in another direction.