The Morning of the Pact.
Rune shoveled his breakfast into his mouth with frantic speed.
"Rune, what is the rush?"
Ravina asked, raising an eyebrow at her son's uncharacteristic lack of table manners.
"Nothing, Mom! Erik just said I needed a change of pace, so I'm meeting Amery and the guys early,"
Rune lied, his eyes fixed on his plate to hide the guilt swirling within them.
"I see. Take care then,"
Ravina said softly.
"And Rune? Do nothing rash."
"Yes, Mom,"
he whispered, the lie tasting like ash.
The group gathered at the forest edge, the air thick with bravado and hidden terror. As they crossed the threshold into the Teveden Evergreen, the sunlight vanished, replaced by a suffocating emerald gloom. Using the lessons Hastein had drilled into him, Rune led them through the thickets, successfully navigating around the territories of the deadlier Squire-class beasts.
Then, they found it: a Flame Mane Boar.
The beast was a wall of muscle and bristling, orange-tinted fur. The moment its eyes locked onto the children, a wave of raw animosity washed over them. Rune's friends froze, their legs trembling with the urge to bolt, but Rune felt a strange, cold clarity. This was the spark he had been seeking—the friction of life rubbing against the edge of death.
The battle was a desperate dance. Rune lunged and parried, his practice sword singing through the air. Chop. Intercept. Pierce. But the boar's hide was like iron, and its tusks were lethal lances that countered his every move.
As the minutes dragged on, Rune's Ether reserves began to run dry. His lungs burned. A single, careless step caught him on a protruding root, and he stumbled. The boar, sensing its moment, lowered its head for a final, bone-crushing charge.
In that split second, the pressure of impending death forced the breakthrough. Rune's focus narrowed until the world slowed down. He channeled every remaining drop of Ether into his forearms, feeling the energy snap into place.
"Crescent Slash!"
A shimmering arc of power tore through the air, cleaving the boar clean in half.
Rune stood over the carcass, gasping for air, his vision swimming as his consciousness began to flicker. But the silence was short-lived.
A piercing, guttural screech echoed through the trees.
From the depths of the forest, a second boar emerged—twice the size of the first, its eyes burning with the vengeful intelligence of a Squire-class beast.
The mother.
Rune's legs gave out.
As the world turned black, a familiar, steady voice reached his ears.
"Well fought, Young Master. Rest now. Leave the rest to me."