Becoming Legend

It wasn't just the fifth group enjoying the mock battle. The crowd, who seemed to be having fun a while ago, went from ecstatic to explicit—eyes straightforward to Ned, boring him like he was a rough gem soon to be cut.

The only hunters who didn't notice were the one from afar the circle of their battle. They fought with sticks and spears uncaring.

Horn, who was lost in thoughts after the battle, forced himself to declare the winner.

"J-Jerra," he said, lips quivering. Knuckles scratching behind his head. "Shwins the battle. "

Jerra—well, Ned, clipped his hands to his sides and bowed to the unconscious warrior.

The hunter behind Horn ran toward the circle and stopped to kneel near Bud. He waved his hand, two hunters then came from behind. Lifting Bud, his wooden necklace hang along with his hands on both sides and laid him rest outside the circle. The same hunter tends to his wounds. Bud lost consciousness, bluish color formed between the bridge of his nose. He rested there together with the ax.

Glaring stopped and chattering hushed after Ned went at the back of the group and proceed to lean at the wall.

The rest of the mock battle proceeds, not just with their group. From the first to the fourth, Ned examined the battle with careful eyes. Ned shifted his gaze above, noticing streaks of light passing in-between the looming clouds. The time was past dawn, still enough time to go back to the Forgotten Pint and proceed to meet Sasani.

Another silver clanged, hunters then fought outwitting their opponents. Some used blades, other groups used daggers and bows. This was a mock battle, and so, even magic was allowed. To Ned's left, at the third circle, a recruit with long brown hair, fitted leather clothing that highlighted the curves of her body won by using wind spells. Not even bothered to move an inch from her spot. Her feminine trousers helped her bust be visible to the other glaring hunters. Just like Ned, she moved back to the wall. It was far enough for Ned to notice how she cocked shoulders passing the whistling recruits and hunters alike. She leaned her back at the wall, slightly turning her head toward Ned.

"Loti," Horn said, eyes sweeping for the old man.

It was Loti's turn, which made Ned somewhat expectant. He wondered, if how Loti would win without using weapons. He seemed to limp from his left.

Loti emerged from the rank of recruits, strode inside the circle together with his opponent: a man in his thirties, he uses a short sword, but long enough to cover his short hands. His dark hair tied on both sides, forming buns. Must be a tradition of some sort.

Loti extended his left foot forward, waist bent while his right foot carried the weight of his body. His hands extended the same as his left and right foot. Looking like Ned's borrowed Water Moon Stance but more... Fluid.

On the other hand, his opponent—Aper he was called—raised the short-sword forward, aligned to his shoulder while the tip pointed to Loti. Right hand, his free hand, clasped behind his waist. His back straightened and eyes were focused as if determining his opponent's next moves—nature of a true warrior.

Silver coin tossed and clanked over the stone circle, Aper dashed forward. Short-sword upright his shoulder, teeth gritted. Baggy trouser flapped.

Loti deflected the sword with the flat of his left hand, he did it in a single breath. Aper was swift, but Loti's hands blurred faster than his opponent.

The tip of Aper's sword changes its path with the aide of Loti's fluid handling of his hands. Aper's eyes widened, he bit the bottom of his thick lips. He retracted, wasn't sure if Loti did gave him chance to finish another stance.

Maybe the old man's hypnotic movements were just a show-off but without strength.

Aper then changes his stance. He held the short-sword both his hands, he bent and squared his feet. This time, he didn't attack. As a hunter, they must have their stances. Stances that applied to different situations. In this case, Aper, who remained rooted on his spot, waited for Loti to attack. He must have realized that engaging the old man for the first time was his loss.

Loti grinned, he didn't change his stance, but Ned sensed that his movements became rapid, his shoulders jerked. He was preparing. He rotated his palm, the flat of his palm faced upward, his right hand angled closer to his chest. He took a step forward: one single step. Twisted his attacking hand, facing the flat of the hand to Aper—who seemed baffled by Loti's stance—and with a single puff of his chest, Aper fell with foam around his mouth. He descended like a sack of wet rice, limbs spread apart, and for some time he twitched then stopped, then twitched, then stopped. And stoped.

Killing wasn't allowed, but that made the recruits even eager to test how to control their skills by defeating the enemy without killing them.

The remaining recruits gasped. Ned could sense a massive hostility coming from the tall farm-boy ( Ned assumed he was a farm-boy with mud sticking his feet and a tiny pouch with seeds rattling inside—too light for stones).

Horn coughed, his massive shoulder jerked as he was composed of unpredictable recruits.

Loti left the battling circle, swept his eyes, and landed on Ned. He smiled and stopped beside the youngest recruit.

"Jerra, how was it?" Loti said, hands slid inside his pockets.

Ned picked a quick shaking under the silk of his white cloth. He could hide the trembling of his hands to others, but not to Ned's eyes. It seemed that he used sufficient enough mana, sufficient that his breathing went rapid.

"Why are you asking?" Ned said, posing as Jerra. Looking imposing with his black tunic and black pants weren't so bad. Now, the recruits were throwing wary eyes. Pretty sure it wasn't the clothing, but it helps. The youngest, and the oldest together. Ned threw back a scornful eye toward Bud, who seemed to be awakened from his hurtful slumber.

"Huh," Loti said, blowing the air. "You used an identical stance as I. Who thought you that? Wasn't perfect, but wasn't bad either."

"You from Titan's Cay, old man?" Ned said, meeting Loti's eyes.

Loti threw himself off the wall, leaving Ned confused. He strode and stoped midway going to the circle of recruits. "Been there," he said over his shoulder. "And never going back."

That seemed off, Ned thought and sighed. Why should I care?

The last of the mock battle continued with the tall farm-boy winning with a stance that left the recruits confused or comical. The tall farm-boy fought with only his arms acting like a scythe. He had a hard time defeating his opponent—a plump man adorned with silver necklaces, ring, and earrings. He won by sweeping the plump man off his feet, unable to get-up on time, the tall farm-boy threw himself over the man and pummeled him until the guarding hunters stopped the fight.

Five remained out of the ten recruits: Jerra as Ned, Loti the old man with a long white robe and fluid technique, the tall farm-boy named Shern or Ern (must be Ern since it was Horn who called out his name), and the two brothers who won using their wits. Aside from Ned, the rest of the recruit wore a wooden necklace, which made them a rookie hunter with their rank as Wood.

Well, four remained, as Ned had made his point by fighting the first round. Although wasn't satisfied, Ned decided to leave the mock battle. As he sees no point to go any further, seeing that he wasn't a hunter, not Jerra. Sooner or later, they would find out, maybe look for his rank or ask him about his license which he doesn't have one.

Ned left after Horn and the rest of the hunters prepared for the next phase—which was another fight but with another party as opponent and was a team fight.

Ned left going back to the massive gate. There were two gates, one facing West, and the other where Ned left was facing East. The massive door was made of Grieving Wood, the same wood as the one back at O'rriadt where their little hill-house was. Grieving woods were typical in a forest of cool air, and mostly wetlands.

There, at the wooden gate, stood two hunters posting as a guard. House Tarragon's emblem embedded over their metal shoulder plate: a broken crown with floating pieces, besides were the saber and a bow.

"Where are you going, recruit?" One of the guards said, clad in full armor. Torch to his left, burning atop the wooden pole. He angled the spear to block Ned from leaving.

"I am leaving, hunter sir," Ned said, using his childish voice that seemed not working ever since.

"The contest wasn't finished," the other guard said, tilting his spear over the other one, making a cross. And making sure Ned couldn't leave.

The wooden door was half-closed, Ned could see hunters busy preparing things on the other side of the wall.

"Yes," Ned replied, clasping both his hands across his chest. "I wasn't needed there anymore."

The guards looked at each other under the line of their metal helmet. "Your Stone, hunter."

"Stone?" Ned said, frowning.

"Stone, hunter," the guard to his right said. "Your license, recruit—now."

"But—"

"Leave him be, hunters," the voice behind the gate echoed through the gaps.

The guards turned hearing the voice. They almost jumped off their spot seeing Twali peeking over the edge of the gate.

"Yes, Master Twali!" The guards said in unison, slamming their fist over their armor and bowed.

Stepping out the gate, was when a lady bumps Ned. Yellow hair flapped as she was thrown off balance. She bowed apologizing to Ned without uttering a word. She wheezed, must be tired to even look at Ned. She ducked and picked the spectacle she wore, she then bowed to Ned once more. Not meeting his eyes, she was short that Ned had a hard time looking at her face. She spun and proceed to the massive gate. She lifted something and show it to the guards.

"And you are, missy?" The guard said, his voice was muffled since Ned was almost a good distance apart.

"I-I," the lady with yellow hair said, still wheezing and out of breath. "I am Jerra of the fifth recruit team."