NOVEL NEXT Chapter 105: Arrows of Discipline
After completing the registration, Ethan gave a slight nod to Lirael. No words were spoken, but the signal was clear.
She bowed her head faintly in acknowledgment. "Yes, Master."
Stepping forward, she moved to the center of the testing ground. The crowd's murmurs swelled in volume, curious eyes turning toward the elf carrying a gleaming golden bow. Her calm poise, coupled with her striking presence, drew both admiration and envy.
The middle-aged examiner with the hunter's eyes rose from his seat. His voice rang out across the field, steady and authoritative.
"For an archer aspiring to C-rank, the standards are clear. First — precision. Then movement. Then penetration. Finally, combat."
A guild assistant carried out the stationary target and fixed it fifty meters away. A white circle gleamed faintly in the sun, the bullseye no larger than a coin.
Lirael lifted her bow, her movements smooth and ceremonial. Golden runes shimmered faintly along the weapon's limbs as she nocked an arrow. The string drew back without resistance, her posture elegant.
Thrum!
The arrow split the air and embedded dead-center in the bullseye. A murmur ran through the onlookers. Without pause, she loosed two more in quick succession — each striking the same mark so precisely that the shafts quivered against one another.
"Stationary — cleared." The examiner's voice was calm, though his eyes gleamed with approval.
Next, assistants rolled out a small contraption that hurled clay discs across the field, simulating swift-moving prey. One disc, then another, then a third were launched.
Thrum! Thrum! Thrum!
Each was shattered mid-air before it could even reach half the distance.
Then the pace quickened — two discs thrown together, then three in irregular arcs. The crowd gasped as Lirael's arrows chased them down with ruthless efficiency. Not a single miss. When the last shard crumbled to dust, silence briefly overtook the field.
"She didn't miss even one…" someone muttered.
The examiner allowed himself a faint smile. "Moving target — cleared."
For the next trial, assistants dragged out a block of condensed alloy wood, a material crafted specifically for penetration testing. Twenty meters away it stood, heavy and solid. A standard C-rank archer would only need to pierce it by five to ten inches.
Lirael drew her bow again, the string singing with power. Thrum!
The arrow slammed into the block, embedding itself so deep that nearly twenty inches of the shaft vanished within. A ripple of disbelief swept across the watching adventurers.
"That's not normal…"
"Tch, it's the bow. Has to be."
"Of course it's the bow. No way a maid shoots like that."
Their dissatisfaction boiled over into grunts and mutters, a sour haze of envy spreading across the sidelines.
The examiner, however, raised his voice with commanding authority.
"Quiet!" His tone cut through the noise like a blade. "Weapons and equipment are part of every adventurer's strength. To draw out one's full potential — there is no shame in that!"
The reprimand silenced many, though discontent still lingered in the shifting stares and clenched jaws.
Finally, the examiner himself stepped into the field. He picked up his own bow, this one fitted with blunted wooden arrows. His posture shifted — relaxed yet coiled with readiness, like a wolf testing a younger cub.
"For the last test," he announced, "combat." His eyes fixed on Lirael, measuring her. "Do not hold back."
Lirael lowered her gaze respectfully. "As you command."
The crowd leaned in, eager to see whether her earlier precision was truly her own — or just the golden bow's brilliance.
The middle-aged archer stepped lightly into the ring, bow in hand. His presence shifted, no longer the composed examiner behind a desk, but a seasoned predator ready to test prey that might surprise him. He notched a blunt arrow, gave Lirael a faint nod, and spoke evenly:
"Show me your best."
Lirael raised her golden bow without hesitation, her movements crisp, precise, and without wasted motion. Her emerald eyes locked on him, sharp and unwavering, her every step deliberate.
Thrum!
Their first arrows loosed at nearly the same instant. The shafts clashed mid-air, splintering in a spray of wood. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Thrum—Thrum!
They exchanged again, rapid-fire shots at shifting angles. Lirael's footwork was elegant, her body light and flowing like water. She pivoted, sidestepped, and twisted, every arrow she released carrying surgical accuracy. Once, twice, thrice, her arrows skimmed so close to the examiner that he felt the wind of their passing against his cheek.
His eyes widened. This girl… her technique and form—it's easily B-rank. Every draw and release… flawless. But…
He tightened his grip on his bow, firing another rapid volley, pressing her. Lirael met him arrow for arrow, but he felt it: the strain in her draw, the slight lack of force behind her shots compared to his. Her arrows struck true, but without the raw penetration or speed that higher-ranked archers could command.
So that's it, he thought, deflecting her shot with one of his own. She lacks the power. That's why that boy…
His gaze flicked briefly toward Ethan, who stood at the sidelines, arms folded, eyes sharp and unblinking as he watched every move Lirael made. Not pride, not arrogance—just calm focus, as though measuring her progress against his own expectations.
…That's why he gave her that bow. To balance what she lacks. Hmph. He doesn't seem such a bad master after all—
His thought was cut short as an arrow whistled past his ribs, so close it brushed his tunic before burying into the ground behind him. He froze for half a breath, his lips curving into the faintest smile.
Raising a hand, his booming voice carried across the field:
"Stop! The test ends here."
The crowd, caught between awe and disbelief, quieted.
He straightened, lowering his bow, and announced clearly,
"Candidate Lirael Vaerune—passed. Congratulations on becoming a C-ranked adventurer."
A restrained wave of murmurs swept through the spectators. Some begrudged it, others nodded with reluctant respect.
Lirael exhaled softly, her bow lowering as she bent into a curt, elegant bow toward the examiner. Without a word, she turned and walked back toward Ethan. Her expression was calm, but her steps carried quiet pride.
Ethan met her with a small nod of acknowledgment, as if her success was not a surprise, but a natural outcome.