The forest no longer sounded like a forest.
It sounded like thinning.
Earlier, it had been chaos—voices overlapping, steel clashing, beasts howling, leaves tearing under desperate boots.
Now—
There were gaps.
Silences.
Spaces where noise should have been.
Gavrilo crouched upon the tallest tree, his fingers curled loosely against the rough bark as his green eyes scanned the field beneath him.
The sun had shifted higher.
Light pierced through the canopy more directly now, revealing clearer lines of movement across the forest floor.
He counted again.
Not precisely.
Roughly.
By quadrant.
By visual range.
By mana signatures that had faded.
Five hundred.
Perhaps slightly less.
Half had fallen.
Some eliminated.
Some incapacitated.
Some dragged away.
The thinning was efficient.
As expected of HQ-level filtration.
He exhaled slowly.
Staying above still held advantage.
From height, he could avoid unnecessary entanglements until numbers dropped further.
But prolonged passivity carried risk.
Observers might mark inactivity.
He needed controlled participation.
Measured engagement.
He adjusted his posture slightly.
And then—
A shift.
A ripple in air.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But precise.
His pupils narrowed instantly.
An arrow.
It cut through fractured sunlight with disciplined trajectory.
Aimed directly at his chest.
Not a lucky shot.
Not random.
Calculated.
His body moved before thought completed.
His left hand shot forward.
Fingers closing around wood and feather mid-flight.
The arrow vibrated sharply against his palm, momentum pushing slightly against his grip before dying.
Silence followed.
Leaves rustled below.
His gaze lowered slowly.
Three figures stood at the base of the clearing.
Two girls.
One boy.
Positioned deliberately.
The archer—a girl with ash-blonde hair tied high—held another arrow already nocked, bow drawn halfway.
Her stance stable.
Elbows aligned.
Eyes focused.
The second girl stood slightly behind her—shorter, black hair cut sharply at chin. Dual daggers resting casually at her sides.
The boy stood between them but slightly forward.
Sword in hand.
Guard low.
Testing.
Their formation suggested prior cooperation.
Not strangers.
Temporary alliance at least.
Gavrilo tilted his head slightly.
They had noticed him observing.
Either by chance.
Or—
They were more perceptive than average.
The blonde archer called upward.
"Climbing makes you look like prey."
Her voice was steady.
Not mocking.
Direct.
He did not reply.
Instead—
He examined them carefully.
The archer's mana density suggested solid second circle.
Close to third.
The dagger-user—lighter aura but sharp.
Fast.
Likely martial-focused.
The boy—balanced stance.
Third circle at minimum.
They had targeted him intentionally.
Perhaps assuming tree-climber meant avoidance.
Or perhaps—
They disliked being watched.
The archer adjusted her aim slightly.
"Come down."
Gavrilo's lips curved faintly beneath the mask.
He loosened his grip slightly.
Looked at the arrow in his hand.
Balanced.
Good weight.
He rotated it lightly between fingers.
Mana flowed subtly through his wrist.
Not visible.
Not flashy.
Just enough.
He shifted stance.
And in one smooth motion—
He flicked his arm forward.
Not a throw.
A launch.
He infused rotation anti-clockwise as it left his fingers.
The arrow spun.
Mana wrapping thinly around its shaft.
Acceleration increasing mid-flight.
Air distorted faintly around it.
The archer's eyes widened.
She released instinctively—loosing her second arrow.
The two projectiles crossed mid-air.
But his—spinning—cut through hers.
Snapped it clean.
Continued downward.
Not aimed at chest.
Not lethal.
It struck the ground between the boy's boots.
Embedding deep.
Vibration traveling through soil.
A warning.
The three stepped back simultaneously.
Not from fear.
From recalibration.
He did not remain above.
He did not wait for second exchange.
He stepped off the branch.
Gravity claimed him.
Wind rushed briefly against his coat.
Leaves shifted violently as he descended.
He bent knees slightly.
Landed without heavy impact.
Boots pressing into soil with controlled absorption.
Straightened slowly.
The three before him adjusted formation instantly.
Archer stepping left.
Dagger-user moving right.
Sword-boy forward.
He brushed his palm lightly against his jacket as if dusting off bark.
Green eyes calm.
The forest seemed quieter in this immediate clearing.
No wolves nearby.
No other participants within close range.
A contained confrontation.
The sword-boy spoke first.
"You were watching."
Gavrilo shrugged lightly.
"So were you."
The dagger-user smirked faintly.
"You caught that arrow easily."
"It was slow."
The archer's gaze sharpened.
"It wasn't."
He did not respond to that.
Instead—
He observed micro-movements.
The archer's breathing—steady.
Not panicked.
The dagger-user's fingers flexing subtly—ready to sprint.
The sword-boy's weight forward—testing reaction time.
Three against one.
Balanced enough to attempt elimination.
But uncertain.
Gavrilo shifted his stance slightly.
Left foot back.
Hands relaxed but ready.
"Half the field gone," he said casually.
"You want to thin numbers further."
The sword-boy's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are you proposing alliance?"
"Temporary."
The dagger-user snorted.
"Everyone says temporary."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Then let's test honesty."
The archer's bow lowered a fraction.
"Explain."
He gestured subtly toward deeper forest.
"Numbers are still high."
"Beasts remain."
"Observers watching."
"Three against one is inefficient."
She studied him carefully.
"And one against three?"
He smiled faintly.
"Equally inefficient."
A flicker of amusement touched the dagger-user's expression.
The sword-boy hesitated.
Trust calculation happening visibly.
He did not press.
He allowed silence to weigh.
A distant howl echoed faintly.
Reminder.
The forest was not empty.
The archer lowered her bow fully—but did not unstring.
"Until next reduction," she said.
"Until next reduction," he echoed.
The sword-boy nodded once.
The dagger-user stepped slightly closer but maintained two-step distance.
They did not introduce names.
Names were liabilities.
They adjusted formation slightly—four in loose diamond now.
Gavrilo positioned himself at rear-left.
From here, he could observe both group and terrain.
Temporary alliance formed.
He remained cautious.
Because alliances in mercenary grounds were blades sheathed loosely.
They began moving deeper into forest.
Not rushed.
Coordinated.
The archer scanning ahead.
The dagger-user moving lightly along flanks.
The sword-boy clearing minor threats.
Gavrilo extended perception slightly outward.
Tracking larger mana fluctuations.
He noticed another group approximately forty meters ahead.
Five participants.
Likely collision inevitable.
He assessed his temporary allies again.
Would they hold under pressure?
Or fracture?
He almost hoped for fracture.
Because fractures revealed character.
The forest thinned slightly ahead—opening into partial clearing.
The five-person group became visible.
Tension rose.
The sword-boy slowed.
The archer nocked arrow quietly.
The dagger-user's grip tightened.
Gavrilo's gaze sharpened.
He did not step forward.
He did not retreat.
He watched.
And waited.
Because descent from the tallest tree meant entering field.
And once in field—
Observation turned into participation.
But even on ground—
He remained watcher.
Among blades.
Among alliances.
Among thinning numbers.
The tallest tree no longer held him.
But the vantage—
He carried within.
And the arrow they had sent upward—
Had only accelerated his descent.
Now—
He would see how sharp these three truly were.
And whether their formation—
Would endure first fracture.
The forest held its breath.
And Phase One continued.
With half gone.
And half—
About to break further.