Atticus's cold gaze flickered as his eyes turned to the sky.
'What?'
The sun had just set, yet it felt as though he had been thrusted into another world. Atticus couldn't explain it, it felt strange. It felt dangerous.
His eyes darted backward, landing on the ominous mist pouring forward from behind him. They widened as he registered its speed and the distance it had already traveled.
The mist surged ahead, devouring the desert at an incredible pace.
'It's fast,' Atticus noted calmly, though his mind worked rapidly.
Despite the darkness, his sharp perception pierced the night's veil. He saw everything, the shifting sands, the faint stars, the encroaching shadows. His elements might be sealed, but his mana control and perception remained razor sharp.
Turning his focus forward, he asked, "What happens at night?" His voice was calm, calculated.
The spirit paused, its miniature form staring at him. 'He's sharp,' it thought.
The question wasn't random. Atticus was already maneuvering within the constraints of the spirit's rules. He knew the spirit could only comment on events directly affecting him, and nightfall clearly qualified.
After a brief hesitation, the spirit answered, "You might get hunted."
Atticus's eyes narrowed. The words were simple but carried weight. 'Might.'
That one word revealed a possibility, a way to avoid the threat. A chance to survive.
"How can I survive the night?" he asked, cold and direct.
The spirit's gaze flickered with slight shock. 'Remarkable reasoning.'
Most would panic, asking about the nature of the threats or their odds of survival, questions the spirit couldn't answer, wasting valuable time. But not Atticus. He framed his question perfectly, pulling useful information from the vague rules.
"You find a place to hide," the spirit said flatly. "And you stay completely quiet."
Atticus's gaze hardened. The words were still vague, but they hinted at something crucial.
'Stay quiet.'
He was still processing the information when the desert erupted.
A piercing howl shattered the silence, chilling the air.
The sound reverberated across the dunes, sharp and primal, sending a shiver down Atticus's spine.
The ground beneath his feet rumbled. Faint tremors at first, then stronger, the vibrations drawing closer.
Atticus's expression darkened as his mind raced like lightning.
'I'm being hunted. Multiple enemies. Fast. Closing in.'
Instinct kicked in.
BOOM.
Atticus shot forward, his body a blur. Mana surged through his legs, doubling his speed. His silhouette streaked across the desert like a blue flash, silent.
But the howls only grew louder, closer.
The mist behind him surged faster, gaining on his position.
Atticus's sharp eyes scanned the terrain ahead, searching for cover. The endless dunes stretched on, offering no solace, no shelter.
His gaze flicked backward once more, shock flickering in his eyes as he saw the mist gaining ground. It was as though it was sentient. As he picked up speed, so did it. And as the mist closed in, so did the piercing howls.
Atticus instantly felt it. 'They're coming from the mist…' The sensation of being watched from multiple directions crept over him, and it didn't feel good.
'Does that mean the mist itself doesn't have any harmful effects?'
He quickly dismissed the thought. The fact that the mist was racing to catch up to him in a trial designed to push him to his limits spoke volumes. It could only be bad.
The mist surged forward, faster than ever. Atticus's eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings as his mind worked rapidly to find a way out of this situation.
His gaze locked onto a tall dune, more like a sandy hill, in the distance. His mind calculated quickly. 'It'll buy me a little time. I can handle them first.'
Without hesitation, his figure exploded forward, his speed leaving a streak of movement in the air. Within seconds, he reached the peak of the dune.
Atticus turned, facing the mist. 'As expected,' he thought, his cold gaze flickering.
As he had anticipated, the mist remained at the base of the hill, its form dispersing slightly as it surrounded the hill. It appeared to be moving at a lower elevation, and the hill was simply too tall for it to ascend quickly. However, Atticus could see it gradually creeping upward.
'The mist has surrounded the area, but I don't think I was supposed to outrun it from the start,' he reasoned.
The mist was ascending slowly, but it was clear that staying on the hill all night wasn't an option, it would eventually engulf him.
Atticus replayed the spirit's advice in his mind: to survive the night, he needed to hide and be quiet. He interpreted this advice as logically as possible.
In the vast desert, there wasn't a single visible place to hide. The underground was an option, but without his earth element, digging his way to safety felt too easy and far too risky for a trial designed to push him to his limits.
Moreover, the mist had been matching his speed, making it impossible to outrun for long. This meant the trial wasn't about outrunning the mist. It was his first challenge.
As for hiding and staying quiet, it required more intricate thinking.
'To hide doesn't necessarily mean to find a corner and conceal myself,' Atticus thought. 'It's possible to hide in plain sight. All I need to do is follow the second piece of advice, I need to be quiet.'
However, this wasn't an option while the beasts chasing him were still a threat and had probably locked onto him. Which was why Atticus had decided to handle them first, fast.
The miniature spirit watched Atticus silently, arms crossed, as though it had much to say but couldn't.
Atticus caught the spirit's glance but didn't focus on him. He already suspected he might be wrong. But he had prepared a contingency plan to offset any errors in his assumptions.
'If I'm wrong, I'll at least gain enough information about the beasts to adjust my approach,' he reasoned.
By engaging directly with the beasts, the spirit would be obligated to reveal critical information. At this point, Atticus's priority was to gather as much intel as possible to handle whatever obstacles the trial threw at him.