Path of the Pioneers

The figure in the distance seems to continue my way, as if drawn to me by a thread. They aren’t looking at me, merely heading towards me as if spurred on by some invisible compulsion.

The light of the moon and stars reveal their features as they approach further. Tattered robes and veils of mixed fabrics conceal the face of someone tall and terribly thin. A blade rests in its scabbard at their hip, bits of scrap-like linen trailing off of it and blowing in the breeze. A triangular shield is strapped to their left arm, waiting to be used.

Still, they continue to approach me.

“I really try not to be a pessimist, but.. Something tells me this one’s not here for tea and a chat.” Adeline’s voice comes from behind me, and I nod. “Well, I’m not saying you should fire at them first, but.. Just keep an eye out! Don’t let them run you through before you’ve had the chance to do anything. That means keeping [Aesthesia] up!”

I nod again.

Try as I might, I don’t detect the presence of aura within this wandering warrior, which leads me to believe that I may have some sort of advantage. I quash that belief immediately. There’s no telling what this place has in store for me. I stand, there’s no purpose in hiding. It’s clear that they can see me -- all I can do is hope that my vantage point atop the dune will work in my favor. I see their head tilt up, fabrics hiding their face from sight. Without a doubt, they are looking right at me.

A thousand different things flash through my mind in tandem, all what to say to this person. I was told that those who wandered here would seek my end, so did this figure wish to do so? I settle upon a simple phrase.

“Is there something you need?”

[Aesthesia] is active, my hand rests on my dagger, ready to draw it if need be. I’m only missing ten mana, and am otherwise in good condition.

The wanderer stops in their tracks from my words, only ten meters away. They aren’t entirely still, but they pause for a moment as if mulling over my words. In my eyes, it was an entirely preferable outcome to them doubling their efforts to come my way.

The figure’s head tilts up higher, towards the stars above. Putting their hand on the pommel of their sword, a low, rough voice comes from below that veil, “Merely checking on a fellow stargazer.”

An odd thing to say, and I’m not enough of a fool to engage with it in good faith. I stand in a land I’ve not heard of, and I will tread very carefully in the people who have made it their home. Trying to retain the friendly tone, I respond in kind, “And do you often come out to see the stars here?”

“On nights like these? I most certainly do.”

Cryptic and puzzling. Worthless bile disguised as words. “Do you seek something in the stars, then?”

“I seek everything there is to have -- I see that same glint dwells within your eyes as well.”

I bite the inside of my mouth at the stranger’s provocation. An uncommon frustration is growing in my chest from how they act, “Tell me exactly what you think it is that I seek.”

“You wish to dispel of formalities, then?” They lift a hand to their face, and I watch as spindly fingers reach under the veil they wear. With another motion, the fabric is thrown aside, exposing their face. “You seek the privilege of strength, child.” Short-cut black hair hangs down off of their head, and their ears seem to extend out into points. An elf.

Their face has a few remarkable scars, including one vertically down their right eye. Despite their dried skin and unnatural thinness, they still look androgynous as the books I read seemed to say elves were. I had always wanted to meet one, and now I was.

They continue, lavender irises piercing me with their gaze, “You were promised great power in exchange for completing a trial. Though.. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen a Pioneer candidate.”

They rub their chin with their hand, “Would you tell me your name?”

“Syb-”

“No.” They stop me, raising a hand, “Gullible. You fail in regards to your trust.” They begin walking towards me once more, “Would you tell me where your mana stems from?”

“F-from the heart..?”

“No.” I can hear them click their tongue now, “You fail in regards to your intellect.” They’re five meters away, and I must make a decision to fight or flee. They continue regardless, “The final two are simple to proctor as one.” A glint of moonlight catches on the elf’s thin blade, and I instinctively raise Tanascáil to intercept a blow.

[Aesthesia] operates faster than my own sight, and I can feel as they enter the space around me in something close to an instant. I make a slight adjustment to the dagger as a saber crashes into it, nearly sending it flying out of my hand.

They stare down at me, and I’m given a better look at their skin. Rugged, worn, and sickly pale. Their features all simply feel off. “Not bad. Certainly an impressive feat for a mage.” A renewed push from their saber sends my right hand, and Tanascáil, flying away from my body, exposing my right side entirely.

Was it simply my fate to be overwhelmed through sheer strength and cut down?

I grip onto Tanascáil more tightly, using [Cloak of Shadows] as I dive to the side to barely avoid another errant slash directed right at my throat. I claw at the sand of the dunes, keeping myself from rolling down the hill. “You were given a good item, at the very least. I’ll grant you points for utilizing it.”

I cling to the sand more tightly, sending a coiled thread of mana slightly underneath the surface. It snakes its way through the dune towards the elf as they wait patiently for me to make a move. Soon, the thread sits still underneath where their saber is held, and I send it spiking straight up. It coils and wraps around the base of their blade, and I cast [Transmutation].

Just as I did in the fight with the Hunters, I reduce the qualities of their blade to the point that it may break just from a simple swing. Though [Cloak of Shadows] begins to fade around me, I watch on from the sand as the elf raises the blade to their face, squinting towards where the threads had gone.

They make a small sound of intrigue, throwing out a wild slash away from me. Their saber looks like a ripple in the air, rather than a moving object. I watch as the blade itself flies off in the distance, carving itself into some sand after it lands. Then, a contented grin takes over their face.

“Well, well… This is a fascinating trick.” They turn to face me, kneeling beside me as I lay in the sand. Gesturing to me with the hilt, they speak in a way that’s almost half-laughing, “Strength? Good enough for a Pioneer candidate, I suppose. Same for will.”

I blink at the elf, confused. What in the world were they going on about?

“Stand up. You still have time left here.”

I comply with their demand, standing and brushing the sand off of my robes once again. I create a small amount of distance from them, waiting for some kind of attack to come my way once again.

They chuckle, and lean down to stare me in the eyes, “I’ll help you succeed, child. But you’d better not fail.”

[Instructor registered: ‘Vagrant’]

What?