Skill Hunter -Kill Monsters, Acquire Skills, Ascend to the Highest Rank!

A silhouette formed in the darkness, then stepped forward. Light played over them from the floor, slowly panning up. Pale shoes, white robes, clean, soft hands, a chest decorated with gems and gold, broad shoulders, long black hair. Before the friendly, handsome face appeared, Ike had already recognized the man: Lord Brightbriar.

"Okay, he is spooky," Ike agreed. But the reason he feared the man was because of his Rank 4 or higher strength. Probably closer to Rank 5, if not well above Rank 5. But he already knew this was only a mimicry of Lord Brightbriar, not the man himself. He'd already broken out of the illusion portion of the trial, and even then, he'd only momentarily been taken aback by the scene of his uncle. Without the illusion portion of the trial to cloud his mind, he knew Lord Brightbriar didn't have his real strength. What was there to fear? He wasn't so weak-willed that his knees would go weak at the mere sight of his enemy.

Lord Brightbriar looked at him, lifting long lashes. Dark eyes met Ike's. He smiled, slowly. "I made you."

Ike barked a laugh, but his heart lurched in his chest. All the anxieties he'd pushed to the back of his mind came rushing back.

"Not only made you, but crafted you. You thought this was your life? That you were in control? That you had accomplished things, gained victories, made friends?" Lord Brightbriar laughed, an easy, delightful sound horribly out of place here. "My dear child, how quaint. Everything you did was within my grasp. From the moment I gave you your first skill, to letting you into and out of the Abyss, even your supposed wins in those meaningless cities… all along, I was the one shaping your path."

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Ike. He shook his head mournfully. "But don't fear, my boy. I have great things in mind for you. Yes, when I finish forging you, all the realms will tremble before you. Of course, you'll be another puppet in my repertoire by then."

Lord Brightbriar stood huge over him suddenly. His shadow bore down on Ike. Ike stared up at him, as tiny as a street puppeteer's marionette. Strings connected to each of his limbs, hoisting him upright. Overhead, Lord Brightbriar manipulated him, controlling his every motion. "Give up. Become my puppet, and allow me to accomplish great things through you."

Ike's lip twitched. He reached for the strings, but Lord Brightbriar twitched the controls. The strings pulled all his limbs rigid, and his arms snapped away from one another.

"Brute strength? You think you can overpower me? Child, you overestimate yourself," Lord Brightbriar chuckled, shaking his head. He manipulated Ike's limbs, forcing him to walk forward. "Come along now. Let's see. Why don't we start with them?"

A familiar wooden outpost on the edge of Ike's hometown came into focus. Faces Ike hadn't seen in ages appeared, looking up from outside the hunter's shops. Cara and Orin, the old couple who had helped him when he was just starting. And just outside the wall, Silver, the panther-beast, in human form. The three of them looked up at Ike and Lord Brightbriar, so tiny, so fragile. Ike trembled. "No!"

"You already understand what I want you to do. Well, of course you do. You're my pawn. The one I hand-crafted." Lord Brightbriar twitched the strings, and Ike's limbs moved on their own. He descended to the edge of the outpost. Lord Brightbriar flicked his wrist again, and Ike pulled his fist back.

"Stop! I won't do it!" Ike shouted desperately, his eyes wide. Something wiggled at the back of his mind, something he'd forgotten, but he had no time to investigate it. It was all coming down to this. Lord Brightbriar was the puppetmaster, and he was nothing but another puppet.

His fist flew forth, closing in on the wall. He knew he could destroy the sturdy wooden wall with a punch. Nothing would remain of the outpost's defenses. Monsters would come pouring in. And there was nothing he could do. Because he was nothing but a puppet.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Nothing but…

Nothing…

Ike's knuckles barked on the wood. He'd pulled his aether out of the punch, leaving only his physical strength. The wall still cracked, the lumber he'd punched pulverized to wood chips, but it was only one log. The rest of the wall remained intact.

He lowered his fist and looked up, staring at Lord Brightbriar. Swirling his hand over his head, he gathered the threads into his palm, then yanked, pulling the controls out of Lord Brightbriar's hands.

"No. I'm not nothing. I'm Ike, of no name. My own man. There's no one who can control me, no one who has the right to decide my life." Tossing the control to the ground, he stomped it, shattering the wood to pieces. He stared back up at Lord Brightbriar defiantly, pointing into the sky. "Even if you made me, so what? My uncle raised me, and fuck him! If I see him, I'll kill him. If I see you, I'll kill you! If I saw a god, I'd kill them too! No one has the right to decide my life but myself! I don't care how powerful you are. I don't care what you think you did for me, or what you think I owe you. I've learned my lesson. The only one who controls me, is me!"

The darkness cleared. Lord Brightbriar vanished, as did the outpost. Ike stood alone in a short hallway. The flute he'd been examining laid on the floor behind him, where he'd dropped it. He turned back and collected it, then proceeded through the door at the other end of the hallway.

A trial to face our fears, huh? He snorted. That one, at least, made sense to him. If this was meant to select a new king, then a king must be brave. It only made sense. The horse-riding one was still a bit arcane to him, even after the explanation, but then, he was just a slum rat. Naturally, he couldn't understand the sensibilities of nobles.

The door opened to a grassy field, the same as before. A huge array of doors sat in a line behind him, one after another. Wisp sat on the other side of the door, waiting. Only a few other contestants peppered the field. Ike glanced around. Interesting. Can't help but notice that Rufus isn't here yet.

"Slowpoke," Wisp said.

"What? Come on. I'm in the top ten… twenty, at worst. What about you?"

She grinned. "Number one!"

Ike shook his head. "No way."

"Fine. You'll see. When the big screen in the sky says it, you'll have no option but to face the truth," Wisp said, nodding.

Ike snorted. "Spiders fear nothing, huh?"

She put her hands on her hips and bobbed her head up and down, just once. After a second, she paused. "I fear some things. Birds. That thing that injured me. Fire. But they're all weaker than me now, so why should I be afraid of them?"

"What about the future? Things that might happen?" Ike asked.

Tilting her head, Wisp frowned at him. "Huh? Why should I be afraid of something that hasn't happened? What's there to be afraid about? It hasn't happened!"

Ike opened his mouth, then shut it. He raised his brows. "Yeah, I guess… you have a point, there."

"I know I have a point. I'm the best at being fearless. I'm number one!" Wisp declared proudly, thumping her chest.

Ike snorted. "Yeah, yeah." He turned back, looking at the other doors. "Gotta wait for the others now."

"Yep. I'm gonna see if there's anything to eat out here. You watch the doors." With that, Wisp ambled off over the field, investigating the grassy expanse.

Watching her go, Ike snorted. He shook his head. "Have fun."

He turned back to the doors and sat down to wait. Two out, two to go. I'm not that worried about Shawn—he doesn't even know how to kill himself, so what does he have to be afraid of? But what about Mag? I know nothing about him. He seems to have lived a long time, but in isolation. His mind is still like a child's. Who knows what he's afraid of, or what happened in his past?

Slowly, people emerged from the doors. Scar came out of a door near Ike in high spirits. She blew him a kiss and sauntered over to her party. Not far from her, Rufus emerged from his rumpled and hollow-eyed. He staggered, dead, to a group that seemed to be led, not by him, but by an old man.

Hmm. Seems like we have a would-be kingmaker, huh? Ike noted, eyeing the old man. Rather than charging Rufus with being the mastermind behind whatever had involved Mag in all this, he'd put it on the old man in a heartbeat.

Vi leaped out of her door, knives at hand. She scowled at all assembled personages, pushed her hair back, and sheathed her knives. Coolly, she strutted over to her underlings, who all came over to attend to her with the love and tenderness of collectors tending to their most delicate porcelain doll.

Compared to Rufus, she's definitely the one who's in charge of her group, Ike noted.

More and more people emerged from the doors. Shawn joined Ike, but Mag remained ferreted away. Ike bit his lip. He stood.

"What is it?" Shawn asked, attached to his shoulder once more.

"I think I need to go rescue Mag," Ike said.