Oath of the King-Chapter 53 - 52: Blaze Convergence

The sun loomed high above the enchanted forest, though time had long lost its meaning here. Within this wilderness of unnatural growth, beast cries, and twisting shadows, Alden moved with the precision of a veteran. To him, the battle royale had barely begun—but already, the world around him felt like home.

He moved low through the brush, crouched beneath moss-covered roots and whispering ferns. His breathing was measured. A hand rested near his blade, the other poised to balance his weight at any moment. In this world, time flowed differently. Faster. The days stretched long, but the outside would barely have seen one pass. That was the cruelty of the Phoenix Trial: a compressed eternity for those strong enough to survive.

Alden had been here before. Not in this exact forest, but in countless others. Wilderness training in exile, far from the polished floors of the capital. This was where he had once thrived. Where he had bled and learned to live.

His internal voice echoed like a cold companion.

Don't waste effort. Don't waste movement. Efficiency is survival.

He found a high outcropping of stone and scaled it, ignoring the sting in his fingers. From there, he surveyed the forest. No sign of contestants. Good. The others could fight each other all they wanted. He had his own rules.

He began setting up camp with mechanical speed. Two sharpened stakes driven into the earth. A canopy of woven leaves above, barely visible. Traps laid in a zigzag pattern down the nearby slope. His food stores came from wild berries, dried bark he boiled into pulp, and insects caught from overturned logs.

The strongest die first. The clever remain.

As he chewed on a leaf to stave off thirst, a sound reached him. Low rustling. Too deliberate. He froze.

From the treeline, a great boar-like beast emerged. Not natural. Not wild. Its eyes were violet and dripping with mana. A creature summoned by the tournament—its flesh forged from nightmare.

Alden drew his knife and stood his ground.

The beast charged.

He waited. Three seconds. Two.

Then he moved.

Pivot left. Slash low. Duck under the tusks. His blade bit flesh, but not deep. The beast roared. It pivoted fast for its size, gouging a tree. Splinters flew.

Alden moved in again, dodging wide, then drove the blade behind the creature's ear. It screamed, staggered, and thrashed—and with a final twist, Alden finished it.

Panting, he wiped the blade clean and whispered, "Still not fast enough." free𝑤ebnovel.com

Just then, a human scream cut through the trees.

He sprinted toward it, branches slapping his face, ignoring his burning muscles.

When he reached the clearing, he found a girl collapsed on the ground. Her cloak was torn, her foot bleeding from two puncture marks. A snake's corpse lay nearby, split in half.

The girl groaned, barely conscious. Her skin was pale. Veins pulsed black along her leg. Venom.

He recognized her instantly.

The last Phoenix. The girl who had won the tournament in the old timeline. A commoner. No family name. No noble crest. Just a raw, feral power that had stunned the capital.

She had survived it all once.

And here she was, dying.

Not this time, Alden thought.

He knelt beside her, inspecting the wound. Already the black tendrils of poison were working up her thigh. She had minutes.

He drew a small vial from his pouch—a leftover from Leonhardt. A bitter tincture derived from crushed bitterroot and hollow moss. A base. Not a cure.

Then he set to work.

He wrapped a cord above the bite to slow the flow. Then, with the edge of his knife, he reopened the puncture slightly.

The girl stirred weakly. Her eyes blinked open—silver, full of pain.

"Don't move," he said.

He leaned down, sucked out the venom with a spit-cleansing technique Leonhardt had drilled into him: swish, spit, swish, spit. Then he poured the tincture into the wound, letting it sizzle.

The girl screamed.

"Good," Alden muttered. "Means it's working."

He ground healing leaves between his palms and pressed the mash into the wound, binding it with cloth.

After minutes that felt like hours, her breathing steadied.

He sat back, exhausted.

The girl looked at him now, confused.

"Why..." she rasped. "You helped me."

"It was the least I could do," Alden said, voice low.

She blinked. "I know you."

Alden didn't respond. He turned back to the trees.

Then the air changed.

Heat.

He stood up sharply.

Flames.

A wall of fire rose in the distance, a perfect arc, devouring trees with unnatural hunger. It hissed and snapped, forming a ring that slowly, relentlessly closed.

Alden's eyes widened.

"It's a zone collapse," he muttered. "They're herding us."

The girl struggled to sit up.

"Can you move?" he asked.

She nodded faintly.

He helped her up and slung her arm over his shoulder. Together, they began to limp through the underbrush as the fire crept closer, heat licking their backs.

Time flows faster here, Alden thought. But death is still quick.

And with the flames closing in, the wilderness no longer felt like home.

It felt like a battlefield.

He carried her toward the unknown.

Toward destiny.