Beast Trials were a complicated thing. Nonetheless, they were straightforward and easier once one understood and expected the complications of the ceremonious test.
The overall point of the trial was for the absorbed Beast to test the Bearer and decide if they were worthy enough to wield their coveted powers.
Because of this, it was ridiculous to expect that strength or survival was all that mattered. If that was the case, there would be two times the amount of Soul Tamers present in the world.
Different Beasts had different attributes, characteristics, qualities that fueled their power and made them the type of Beasts that they were. Hence, when selecting a Vessel, they tested for these qualities.
An Ash-Tailed Fox tested for cunning, charm and deception. A Hell Hound tested for fury, ambition and rage. An Ironback Ursa tested for stoicism, constitution, immovabilty.
Back in the Trial Hall, the official had told Ash that the Red Lizard tested for drive—a simple quality that was basically implied by every other quality tested by other Beasts.
Since Ash was the first to ever absorb a Dragon, there was no where to get information about prior Trials. So, he had no way to be certain of what a Primordial Dragon tested for.
However, he had his suspicions.
With the First Challenge, Ash deduced that the quality he was tested for was something along the lines of ambition, desire and resilience.
All the novels he'd read described Dragons as greedy, prideful beasts that reject mediocrity and refuse to be defeated by dire situations, so it was fair to make that judgment.
But if that was the quality being tested for the First Challenge, then what was being tested in this one?
[ Challenge - Mystery : One of these people is going to betray you. Find out who before it is too late ]
Discernment? Wisdom?
It was the strangest kind of Challenge. From what Ash had read, Challenges always involved some kind of battle; to kill or to survive. But this one, it felt more like a social experiment.
"Nghhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
Ash bit hard into the leather-wrapped hilt of his dagger as Duncan pushed his shoulder bone back into his socket.
"There," the teleporter grinned. "All better now."
Ash tested his shoulder, swinging his arm slowly. When it felt like everything was in one piece, he regarded Duncan with a nod. "Thank you."
"Ah. Nothing I won't do for my protoge," Duncan mused, offering a hand to help Ash up. "You should have let us known sooner that you dislocated your shoulder."
"To climb a volcanic mountain with one good shoulder," Wevard remarked, gazing into the eyes of Ash—who was now standing—with inspiration. "You're no ordinary slave boy, are you?"
"He's not a slave anymore, Wevard, remember?" Iris corrected, shooting the Arctic Knight an angry stare.
"Of course." Wevard's handsome face turned apologetic. "I apologize, Ashborn."
"It's fine," Ash said, slipping his dagger behind his waistband.
Adroft sighed. "We still have a long road ahead. Let's get going."
Together, they continued toward the north. They stomped through high snow and climbed small ice hills. The Northern Post only got whiter and colder the deeper they ventured.
Here and there, ice spires pierced the gray sky like giant teeth, and the wind howled through the canyons, threatening to ensnare them in chilling ice.
Despite the brutal environment, the journey was surprisingly bearable. Wevard took the leading position, as expected. The Arctic Knight was barely moved by the low temperature — in fact, it was his presence that blunted the worst of the biting wind for the rest of the party.
Adroft walked noiselessly beside him. Ash had wondered for a while what his deal was. He didn't particularly seem interested in this mission like the rest of his friends. He only carried that depressed look on his face, his broad shoulders hunched and his body moving weirdly like he had poor control of his limbs.
Iris walked near the middle, occasionally checking on Ash, adjusting the oversized, fur-lined cloak she had draped over his thin frame. Ever since she had assumed that he was some sort of escaped slave, she had been treating him extra nicely.
Was she genuinely that kind? Or was it guilt from how she spoken to him earlier?
Duncan was the one who made the grueling trek feel less like a suicide march. He rarely walked in a straight line, preferring to flank Ash, sometimes even walking backward just to maintain eye contact while tossing a small, black throwing knife from hand to hand.
In the course of the journey, he made it his mission to teach Ash everything he knew. It was clear to Ash that the teleporter had dreams of finding a lost boy and turning him into a protoge. And although, Ash had no intention of being a sidekick, he took Duncan's lessons very seriously.
Compared to the others, Ash was merely a fly. He knew that regardless of whatever the Challenge was, Beasts were certainly going to be in a place like this. He had to be prepared in case they ran into one, or maybe a pack.
He couldn't dare to be complacent enough to trust his life in the hands of these strangers — who were fated to betray him anyway.
"You're a twig, Ashborn," Duncan observed bluntly as they navigated a steep incline. He casually caught the knife by the blade. "I mean no offense, truly, but a stiff breeze could snap you in half. Talk more of an Ice Goblin."
Ash grunted, pulling himself up a rock. "I'm not that small."
Duncan pouted. "Mhm, you have some height on you, but that's about it. You're thin enough to be someone's skeleton."
Ash shot him a glare. He'd received insults before, and he knew how to handle them. Sometimes, at least. Other times, he found an ego he wasn't supposed to have bruised.
"Woah, woah!" Duncan raised his hands, chuckling. "Take it easy with the death glare, youngling. If looks could kill."
Ash accepted his hand and climbed to the top of the incline. "I know that I'm skinny. You don't have to make fun of me for it."
Especially because it was a cause of his suffering in the Forsaken Lands. Laughing at his frail body, was like laughing at his suffering to Ash, and he'd be damned if he let his life be made fun of by a fourth-wheel party member who only wants to train a child so he could feel some sense of accomplishment.
"Small isn't a weakness if you know how to use it," Duncan's voice interrupted Ash's venting.
Ash drifted back to the present then glanced at Duncan with a look that requested him to continue.
"Big guys like Wevard or our grumpy friend Adroft back there, they can afford to take a hit. They wear armor. They have muscle mass. If an Ice Goblin swings a club at you, and you try to block it? Hehe, your arms will turn to powder."
"So you're saying I should dodge rather than block?"
Duncan didn't give a reply. Ash noticed him walk slightly faster, creating a space between them. He was planning something, so Ash became prepared.
Duncan suddenly spun on his heel, closing the distance between them in a flash. He thrust the hilt of his dagger toward Ash's chest.
Ash's eyes popped wide. 'Is this it? Is this betrayal? Did I lose the Challenge?!'
He twisted his torso with a reaction speed that surprised himself as he watched the dagger's hilt glide harmlessly past his ribs.
Duncan stood still and raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "Exactly like that. Your skinny body makes you a thinner target, and it allows you to move faster. All you have to learn is to be sharp enough to slip into the empty spaces your opponent leaves behind. They swing left, you step in right. They strike heavy, you move light."
Ash nodded his head. Despite knowing it was only surface-level training that even he had subconsciously known, he accepted it wholeheartedly.
Not because he respected Duncan or anything like that. But making the desperate man feel good about himself was a sure way to learn more fighting techniques from him.
Oh, and thankfully, he wasn't being betrayed.
Not yet anyway.
When the blue-gray sky finally bruised into a dark, suffocating black, Wevard called for a halt. They found shelter beneath a massive, curving overhang of blue ice that shielded them from the snowfall.
True to Iris's word, Adroft was an exceptional cook. The weirdly tall guy silently set up a heavy iron pot over a fire. Ash had learnt they had dimension pockets where they stored all their necessities.
Soon, the smell of seasoned meat and soup filled the icy cave, making Ash's stomach roar in anticipation.
Ash couldn't remember the last time he ate meat. There was barely any in the Forsaken Lands that anyone caught eating meat was accused of cannibalism — and killed.
After they had eaten their fill, while Wevard and Iris sat near the edge of the cave discussing the path ahead, Duncan pulled Ash to the back of the cavern for a more practical lesson.
"Leave the dagger," Duncan ordered, producing two wooden training batons from his dimension pocket. He tossed one to Ash and kept the other.
Ash dropped the Dragon Fang in the snow and gripped the baton with both hands. He dropped into a sloppy stance, hands to the left, knees straight as an arrow.
"Lower your center of gravity," Duncan instructed, tapping the side of Ash's knee with his baton. "You're too stiff and that would make you predictable."
Ash corrected his stance.
"Good."
Duncan stepped backwards, creating space between them. "Now remember: Avert and strike. When I come at you, I want you to slide past the swing and tap my ribs. Go."
With a burst of speed, Duncan attacked, swinging the wooden stick at Ash's head. Ash carefully timed the attack, watching the blade get closer... and closer... and clo—
He ducked fast. The wood whistled over his hair, and once he knew he was safe, he thrusted his baton toward Duncan's exposed side.
But before Ash could make contact, Duncan wasn't there. There was a black blur of motion, and suddenly the teleporter was standing behind Ash, tapping the back of the boy's head with the baton.
Dong.
"Dead," Duncan said playfully.
Ash spun around, scowling. "You used your speed."
"Monsters will use their speed, too," Duncan chuckled, spinning the baton in his hand. "Your evasion was good, but you were too excited to strike and so you overcommitted."
"Does it matter if I overcommit when I'm going to hit the target anyway?" Ash asked sincerely.
"Well you didn't hit me, did you?" Duncan asked with a smile.
Ash froze, and right then, the lesson made sense.
"When you're small, you can't put your whole body weight into a counter-attack unless you are absolutely certain it will land. If you miss, you're off-balance, and against a larger foe, off-balance means dead.
"Again."
They sparred for another hour by the golden light of the campfire. Ash's body started to ache, his lungs burned from the cold air, but his mind absorbed every word and every technique from Duncan.
Despite his exaggerated character, the roguish man was a good enough teacher. By the time Wevard called an end to the noise, declaring it was time to rest, Ash had learned the art of dodging and striking to the best of his amateur abilities.
Good thing he did because only more dangers awaited them in their icy journey.