The Forging Dragon [Book 1]

2 ⚔️ An Intricate Trap

The murmuring in the crowd seemed to disappear like sunlight disappearing behind clouds randomly in the monsoon. The Lady Continued after a short pause.

"You'll have Twenty - Four hours to stay in the forest." She said; after a short pause, she continued, "You have only two tasks: first - Kill any dragon you see in sight, second - Find the hidden structure in the jungle: from where you'll pass the test. Considering that our Drayers Organization is a secret society - The People who Fail: will be left in the forest to be killed"

The murmuring slowly blew back in the crowd. But their sentences were killed by the lady on the stage, who announced,

"Last Thing" She continued, "Rules. You'll have to follow certain rules. There are four rules. First - Don't Spare any Dragon, Second - More Dragons you kill; the more points you'll get. More Points Means Higher Rank and Fewer Points Means Less Rank. Third - You're Allowed to Kill your Fellow Drayers, But Not Allowed to Help them. Fourth - You Cannot Quit once the test has started. But you can do it right now. You have forty seconds on the clock, for anyone who has changed their minds, and wants to erase their memories and take the blue pill." She winked

From the Crowd of twenty people: six of them raised their hands, symbolizing that they wanted to quit. The lady, with shock, gestured to them saying 'You can leave' Politely. Diato still couldn't figure out what the gesture meant, or even what the rules were. The only thing he understood was the tasks. The rules bounced off his head. The six people gazed at their feet while leaving back to the organization to get their memories wiped out. The clock finally hit forty seconds, and some of the people regretted not leaving the crowd when they had the time."Now then" She spoke again as the gate slowly flew open, with an unsatisfying screeching sound. The sound seemed to speak 'Please oil me!'. The lady continued, "You should hurry, as the twenty-four hours start now!" The crowd rushed to the gate, their eager footsteps echoing through the air. Diato hurried along with them, his heart pounding in his chest as he observed the chaos unfolding around him. People scattered in every direction, searching for their own unique path to stand out from the crowd. In that moment, Diato made a quick decision. He would veer left, alongside the rushing river, a route that seemed untouched by others. It was risky, but Diato was willing to take the chance. He craved the thrill of being different, of carving his own path.

With his club held firmly in one hand and his knife within easy reach on his belt, Diato felt prepared for whatever lay ahead. His bow and quiver were securely fastened to his back, the weight a familiar comfort against his frame. The bowstring sat comfortably on his shoulder. He had trained tirelessly for this moment, refining his skills and honing his instincts. He felt a surge of determination course through his veins. This was his time to shine.

As Diato trudged along the treacherous path, his boots sank into the mud, causing satisfying squelching noises with each step. The earth seemed to cling to him. The thick canopy overhead cast a gloomy shadow, breaking the otherwise soft light filtering through the leaves. Diato's regret festered within him, nagging at the corners of his mind. 'Why didn't I study the Archers' woods' map like the others?' He knew the selection structure's location changed every year, but possessing that knowledge would have instilled a sense of confidence and direction. He mentally scolded his trainer for focusing solely on practical training, neglecting the importance of theory. In this moment, surrounded by others who were armed with both knowledge and skill, Diato couldn't help but feel disadvantaged.

With each step he took, another regret flashed through his mind. It was as if the forest itself was mocking him, whispering reminders of his shortcomings. Yet, Diato refused to let these doubts consume him. He tightened his grip on the club, his senses on high alert. He was off-guard, vulnerable to attacks from any direction, but he also knew he possessed a strength that others underestimated. His training had prepared him for this very moment.

As he continued to navigate through the depths of the forest, Diato stumbled upon a cave. The words "Archers' Cave I" were intricately carved into its stone exterior. His instincts screamed at him, warning him of a trap. 'Why would there be a random cave in the middle of the forest?' He thought. It seemed too convenient, too perfectly placed. Doubts gnawed at Diato's mind, but he couldn't ignore the truth. Every other competitor was seeking out this cave, well aware that it was man-made and that it always led to the selection structure. Diato had no idea where that cave lead.

Soon, Diato found himself back on the winding path, uncertainty still lingering in his mind. Smoke billowed into the sky in the distance, a beacon. The smoke of a campfire. 'Is it the selection structure?' His pulse quickened as he cautiously approached the source of the smoke. However, as he drew closer, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. The setup was too obvious, too perfect. It screamed trap.

His eyes darted around, scanning the area, until he caught a glimpse of something almost invisible - a thin, glimmering string. Sunlight danced upon its surface, when viewed from a certain angle. Diato crouched down, studying the string's intricate pattern, spread across the entire vicinity like a spider's web woven with malicious intent. It was a distraction, a ploy to lure unsuspecting competitors into danger.

His heart sunk as he noticed a figure on the other side of the structure. It was a girl, seemingly unaware of the trap. A silent panic surged through Diato, his mind frantically searching for a way to communicate without breaking the rules. He knew he couldn't shout a warning or interfere directly. Sweat trickled down his brow as he desperately tried to convey his urgency through gestures, hoping against hope that she would sense the danger and divert her path. But she kept ignoring him in her peripheral vision, each step bringing her closer to the trap she couldn't see.

Diato's muscles tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his club. He was torn between the desire to protect and the necessity of following the rules. It was a delicate balancing act, one that required strategic thinking and self-restraint. As the girl grew nearer, Diato could only hope that she would recognize the trap.

She walked right into the trap. As soon as her feet touched the string, she came to a halt. She jerked her head down and saw that the string she felt wasn't there. She found herself dangled upside down, her heart pounded against her chest, the rush of adrenaline drowning the sounds around her. The suddenness of the trap left her bewildered, her mind struggling to catch up. Panic clawed at her throat as she noticed the arrows shoot out from the trees towards her.

Diato's swift reaction was her only hope. His movements were like a fluid attempting laminar flow. His arrow sliced through the air. Time seemed to stretch as the arrows closed in on her, each one a menacing threat aiming for her.

The world held its breath as Diato's arrow collided with the string, releasing Bella from the trap. The air crackled with tension as the arrows whizzed past, narrowly missing her. She plummeted, a whirl of fear and confusion, the wind roaring in her ears as the ground rushed up to meet her.

In that terrifying descent, a flash of steel caught her eye-a knife hurtling toward the ground below her. 'You're allowed to kill your fellow Drayers but not allowed to help them' the old lady had said. Her thoughts raced as she tumbled, the knife slicing through the entangled strings just milliseconds before her body crashed to the ground.

As she lay there, disoriented and gasping for breath, she registered Diato's presence. Her mind, clouded with fear moments ago, now struggled to grasp the reality before her. She realised that Diato actually cut the trap strings so that she wouldn't be caught in the trap again when she fell down.

Struggling to regain her composure, she pulled herself upright, the strain evident in the tension of her muscles. Her eyes, a striking shade of molten gold, met Diato's gaze. They exchanged gazes as her eyes screamed gratitude and Diato's eyes wrinkled in relief.