Apex: Forged In FIre

'WHUP-WHUP-WHUP-WHUP'

The rhythmic sounds of the chopper blades resounded in the ears of its passengers as they watched landscape after landscape pass beneath them. Three individuals, excluding the pilot, sat in silence as they flew over the ocean toward a vast forest looming in the distance on a small island.

Two of the passengers were middle-aged men. One was immaculately dressed in a black tailcoat, his gloved hands attesting to his role as a steward. Broad shoulders somehow fit within a suit that looked frail compared to his lean, well-built physique, and his amber eyes flickered with an imperceptible light.

The aura of the second man was so imposing it was a wonder the pilot could navigate under such conditions. He appeared to be in his early thirties, though he was nearing fifty. He wore a black robe, complementing his dark skin and calm brown eyes, which were as still as a frozen lake. His features were striking, exuding a serenity that contradicted his position. This was Michael Ayodeji, head of the Dare clan (pronounced Dah-ray), known as the Direblades, and head of the African continent.

The third passenger appeared to be asleep until he felt the chopper begin to descend. Slowly, he opened his pale blue eyes, which seemed able to pierce through anything. As the chopper landed softly in an open field, he rose, tying his slightly overgrown hair in a bun and flexing his muscles, the sound of bones popping into place echoing in the silence. He had an air of excitement about him and was the most casually dressed of the three, wearing a simple black tank top, brown cargo pants, and sturdy boots. Turning to the adjacent door, he lifted a long, black box with practised ease and jumped off the chopper.

He turned to face his indifferent father and gave a slight nod before heading toward the distant forest. The steward, Harris Crawford, frowned and finally voiced his thoughts.

"Is this really necessary, sir? This task is dangerous for a child, especially one who hasn't yet undergone an awakening."

Michael disregarded Harris' concerns before deciding to respond, given Harris's years of loyal service.

"This is a rite of passage. I went through it, as did my father and his father before him. There is no room for weakness in this family."

"If he believes he is ready to undergo the procedure, he must prove it with his mettle."

Harris' frown deepened. "I understand wanting him to prove himself, but finding and killing an adult lion is no small feat, even for an experienced hunter, let alone a child."

Michael's eyes darkened slightly, the first change in his expression. Noticing this, Harris promptly held his tongue.

Michael waved a hand to signal the pilot, then sat down again, sparing Damian only a brief glance before closing his eyes in meditation.

'This is your first test, boy. Do not disappoint me!'

….

Damian walked cautiously through the tall bushes, stopping only at the forest's entrance. He could hear rushing streams, the chirping of birds, and the distant roars of beasts. The mist hung low over the trees, adding an air of mystery to the wilderness before him. He paused, laying down the large black box, opening it to retrieve a two-meter-long spear fitted with a carbon steel blade—a relic of the new age—and a pair of short daggers.

With nothing but his spear, two daggers strapped to his thighs, and the clothes on his back, he pressed forward, stepping lightly on the damp earth to avoid snapping fallen branches.

'Time to get to work.'

His first day was spent exploring and orienting himself. The forest stretched far, almost unending, with towering trees that knotted together, forming a canopy that dimmed the sunlight. As he moved, he made mental notes of landmarks, knowing they would guide him back. A twisted oak with gnarled roots jutting from the ground, a stretch of birch trees stark against the pines, and the faint sound of water to the west—a river or stream, perhaps.

By midday, he was hungry. He crouched by a patch of undergrowth, noticing small, thorned berries hanging low. He picked them cautiously, remembering they were safe to eat in this region. With each bite, he scanned the forest floor for more signs of life. Fresh claw marks on a nearby tree caught his eye—deep, with a wide spacing too large for anything small. He ran his fingers over them, feeling the roughness, the sharp edges—a predator had been here. Its faint musk lingered in the air.

As night fell, after a whole day of fruitless searching, he climbed into the low branches of a sturdy tree. High above, he would be safe from wandering beasts, able to sleep and let the forest breathe around him. The chill seeped through his clothes, but he wrapped his arms around the trunk, listening to the night sounds and attuning himself to the shifting winds and the patterns of wildlife.

Over the next two days, he wandered deeper, each step drawing him further into the predator's territory. He moved cautiously, noting the signs: paw prints pressed into soft earth near a watering hole, the unmistakable musk that grew thicker, stronger as he advanced. He took only what he needed—grubs beneath rotting logs, a handful of wild berries—and avoided making noise, becoming one with the forest's rhythm.

Finally, on the third day, he saw it.

"Jackpot!"

The lion emerged in a distant clearing, it's mane golden in the fading sunlight, its muscles rippling as it moved. Damian knelt behind a thicket, heart pounding as he watched. The beast was powerful, scanning the clearing with vigilance. He noted its gait, the way it prowled, the way it listened.

He retreated to plan his approach. The dense trees offered some cover, but he would need to draw it into a more confined area to limit its speed and create an advantageous position. He returned to the clearing and mapped a path, marking trees at intervals. With his daggers, he sharpened a few branches as makeshift stakes, setting them in the ground to create obstacles. They would not harm the lion but would slow it, forcing it to face him within reach of his spear.

As the sun set on the third day, he returned to the clearing, breathing steady and heart calm. This was his moment.