Gifts from the Wild Man
Sivar, whose attack rights were restricted, was tackling the exam in utterly bizarre ways, but the other students stuck to ordinary methods. Digging traps in empty houses with no loot, stealthily tailing and ambushing from behind, or just charging in openly—things like that. Most acted within the professors' expected range, and there were no shortage of dropouts. A few even blundered into the mana field together due to misjudgments and got eliminated as a group.
"Phew. Anyone hurt?"
"Got a burn on my arm, but I'm fine."
"Good. You?"
"I'm okay too."
Kara nodded as she checked on her teammates. They'd just finished a fight. They'd thought the house was empty and walked right into a trap—nearly got in real trouble. Good thing she'd smelled it in advance; if she'd noticed too late, the whole team, herself included, might've been done for.
"Let's rest here a bit. We're inside the mana field, so it should be safe."
"Got it."
"I'll check outside for anyone coming."
With a short break granted, the teammates went about their tasks. Kara watched them.
No matter that it was a temporary team, something felt off. The polite speech, the distance—it all added up. She'd sensed it before. Prejudices from background and reputation. And the attitude of the elders and battle veterans. All these factors created an aura that made it hard to approach.
'Whatever. Better than clingy annoyances.'
Fewer but deeper bonds were more comfortable. Tatar culture played into it too. The harsh land meant too many deaths, so people didn't form deep attachments. Monster subjugations and tribal unifications had reduced fatalities lately, but the culture lingered. Once friends, they kept loyalty till the end—and were merciless to betrayers.
'Academy life's all about breaking that loyalty, huh.'
The competitive system made it inevitable, but it bred conflict. She just wanted to wrap up the exam quick and leave, but others weren't so casual. Rumors said even lovers split up. It was the inevitable fate of advanced civilizations. As society grew complex, so did relationships. No wonder she preferred simplicity—the simpler, the deeper the bonds, the truer the comrades who had your back. Or something even beyond that.
'Wonder if I could ever fight back-to-back with Sivar? Probably not.'
Kara chuckled wryly. Fighting back-to-back meant equal skill at minimum. Sivar lacked technique but overwhelmed physically. If he went berserk, even Hector might fall. Accounting for Hector's mental issues, sure—but still impressive.
'Maybe ask the saint?'
Lize came to mind for physical prowess—roughly Sivar's level or better. If the gap was sheer physical power, why not train it up? Luna was already training under her, so one request couldn't hurt.
"Ka-Kara!"
"Yeah?"
Lost in thought, Kara snapped to as a teammate shouted urgently.
"What's up? Someone coming?"
"Y-Yeah!"
"Who?"
"S-Sivar?"
"Sivar?"
Kara's eyes widened. Why would he come here? But questions aside, she armed up fast. No attack rights meant he'd have teammates. "B-But he's alone?"
"What? Alone?"
"Yeah. And on his shoulder... is that people?"
The teammate muttered in disbelief from the window, as if questioning their own eyes. Kara geared up roughly and joined them. The teammate politely stepped aside. Peering out, she saw why.
"...What the hell is that?"
"B-Beats me?"
Sivar strode boldly toward them, two people slung over his shoulders like luggage, just as described.
While they gawked, he headed straight for them. Kara figured combat, but no—restricted attacks.
"You all stay put. He knows we're here."
"Knows? How?"
"He just does."
Heading right at them screamed it. Kara edged to the door cautiously. Preemptive strike if needed, but Sivar would counter. Better face-to-face.
Creak—
Opening carefully, she met Sivar eye-to-eye. Two still slung like sacks.
"L-Let me go! Put me down!"
"..."
Closer look: one struggled, the other hung limp in defeat. Not Grace or Yeonju—other team, apparently. Why bring them here? As the question formed—
"Hi."
"Uh... hi?"
Unlike survival training, he was an enemy now. But his casual greeting threw her; she replied without thinking. As Kara flustered, Sivar dumped the two before her. Hands bound behind backs—ah, that explained the stillness.
"Gift."
"...Gift? These?"
"Yeah."
With that, he turned and left. Kara stared dumbfounded between him and the pair. No clue what was happening. Why give them to her? What had he done? Hard to grasp.
Handle the wrigglers first.
"Kara."
"Yeah?"
"Gift."
Whoosh—
Sivar tossed something without turning—cylindrical, not grenade-round. Kara flinched at the sight, eyes squeezing shut reflexively.
Bang!
Flashbang detonated faster. He'd prepped it anticipating that.
"Agh!"
Kara screamed, blinded. Teammates rushed out. She blinked to recover—eyes half-closed helped; vision cleared quick.
"Y-You okay?"
"I'm fine. Where's Sivar?"
"O-Over there..."
Rubbing eyes, Kara looked where pointed. Sivar bolted like business done.
Why flash and flee if running anyway?
'...He pranked me?'
Only explanation. Otherwise it'd be a real bomb. And he'd said "gift" before tossing.
No prank, it didn't add up.
"Chase him?"
"Nah. Let him go."
No gain chasing. Rest now essential. Vision back, Kara eyed the wrigglers.
Just them left.
"Check these first. Need the story."
"Right."
Sivar's "luggage"—no, other students. Figure their deal.
Kara dragged them inside, frisked thoroughly. Robes screamed mages.
"So Sivar only dropped warriors, dragged you here?"
"That's what we said! Restricted attacks my ass!"
"Hm."
Valuable intel. No direct hits, but terrain or forced falls okay. Nastiest: tools. Shoving grenades in mouths and running—brutal, creative. Survival-of-the-fittest roots showed.
'Later too lazy to think, just brute force?'
Likely. Explained no attack rights.
"We told all... you sparing us...?"
"Huh? No?"
Competitors gotta go. Kara eliminated them. For subdued, remove bracelets—with consent, unlike survival.
"O-One chance! Please?"
"Beat you off or just off?"
"Sorry."
Like that. They dropped willingly.
"Never thought of that."
"Yeah. Oh."
With lull, Kara scanned teammates. Three now. Originally four—one out scouting.
"Where's our scout?"
"Hasn't returned..."
"Figures."
Inevitable. Scouts risked life.
'And how'd Sivar find us? Sharp senses?'
Suspicious all around.
*****
Scouting usually fell to nimble thieves—fast runners too, given the mortal risks.
"L-Let go! What're you doing!"
But against Sivar—master tracker turned hunter supreme—fleeing was futile. Ambushed mid-escape.
This scout too: caught soon after leaving. By the red-eyed wildman right in front.
"Team leader who."
"What?"
"Team leader name."
Sivar questioned the pinned thief. They were in a house; thief hung upside-down. Easy takedown: trailed, ambushed, roped tight.
He'd long grasped attack limits. Allowed this.
"Leader? Why tell you? Want position too?"
"Hm."
At the uncooperative(?) attitude, Sivar scanned around. Perfect "answer sheet" nearby. He grabbed it, approached the hanging thief.
Thief saw what: water canteen. Key loot—quenches thirst, boosts energy. Ominous vibe hit.
Instinct screamed danger.
"Don't know?"
Click—
Sivar uncapped casually. Thief gulped, tempted to lie and flee—but team'd suffer.
"N-No! Lost team!"
"Don't know. Okay."
Tilt—
Sivar angled the bottle at the thief's face—nostrils precise.
"...W-Wait! What're you—!"
Panicking, the thief heard:
"Water torture."
God-knows-where learned.
"Answer."
Deviously effective.