Return Of The Talentless Bastard

They exchanged glances, eyes lingering on each other as Kage's words sank in like stones settling into still water.

A boy with a shaved head and black dots peppering his scalp spoke up, his gaze fixed on Kage.

"This doesn't add up. Why drag us through all this misery only to help us walk away? What's in it for you?"

Kage studied him. A flicker of irritation crossed his face, gone before anyone could catch it.

His tone flattened. "Like I said. You needed a lesson. I gave you one. It's done. I see no reason to watch you suffer any longer. But if suffering's what you're after, be my guest. Nobody's forcing you to accept my help—you can hunt for your own markers. But the clock's ticking, and we're running out of time. The Silent Grove will be a different beast entirely. The Harmony Markers and that sealed scroll? Those were just warm-ups for what's waiting there. That place is the heart of this test. Do whatever you want."

He turned his back and walked away. Bei snarled at the group—scram, you genetically engineered dogs!—before wheeling around and loping after Kage.

As Kage moved deeper into the temple's inner compound, voices called out behind him. He stopped and waited.

Six of them approached: the freckled boy, Marcus, the monk who'd asked the irritating question—Shen—a girl with raven-black hair pulled into a severe bun and ice-chip eyes named Isolde, a stocky boy with average height and neatly groomed hair called Jiro, and two others known as Bright and Akio.

'The girl must've gone hunting for her own markers... She didn't have the look of someone from around here. Probably a Westerner.'

Kage led them to the chamber, where they each completed their tests before gathering for dinner. Within minutes, they seemed to have forgotten this was the same person who'd stolen their scrolls and tokens. Instead, gratitude hung over them—for the food, for the harmony markers.

They'd lost nothing, really. Just precious time, which they'd recover soon enough.

Afterward, they dispersed to sleep while Kage stationed himself at the temple's outer perimeter, leaning against a crumbling pillar.

In the morning, they reconvened.

Maps spread across the floor—identical copies, each one charting the Silent Grove.

None of them knew exactly what made the place so dangerous, but at least they'd established that it was.

At the top of every map, a warning crawled in jagged script:

"The forest remembers blood. It hungers for more. Those who sleep beneath twisted trees face nightmares made flesh. Choose your path. Choose your camp. Steel your mind or walk the long way round."

Silence pressed down on them as they sat in a circle. Then Kage's voice cut through.

"Anyone here good with maps?"

His gaze swept over them.

They studied the maps at their feet.

Kaito hesitated before speaking. "My clan has some knowledge of cartography. I can read terrain well enough, but maps don't come easy to me, and there's a lot of room for—"

"Anyone else?"

Kage interrupted without letting him finish.

Everyone bent over their maps. The charts were dense tangles of symbols and colors, hand-drawn, intricate as spider silk.

He sighed.

"Then I'll handle it."

Kage looked at each of them in turn. "The goal here is to understand what we're walking into and figure out the best route. But here's the thing—nobody has to take that route. You can choose the longer path if you want. This is a choice. Before I go any further, if anyone's having doubts—no matter how small—and doesn't want to risk stepping into that place, speak now. There's no shame in choosing safety."

He paused, letting the words settle, watching their faces. No one spoke.

He exhaled. "Alright, then. I'll read the map."

Kage dragged his map forward, spreading it flat on the broken temple floor. Morning sunlight slanted through gaps in the damaged ceiling, catching the red ink warnings until they seemed to pulse like fresh blood.

His finger traced the southern edge of their current position.

"We're here—the Temple of Fallen Harmonies. Right on the boundary between normal forest and the Silent Groves. From this point, there are three possible routes to reach Mount Harmony's base."

He tapped three colored lines in sequence.

"First: the Direct Path." His finger followed the red line cutting straight through the center. "Eight kilometers. Four hours at steady pace. Cuts right through the heart of corruption."

His voice stayed clinical, stripped of emotion.

"The map marks four zones here—" he circled them, "—as 'nightmare zones.' The worst manifestations happen in these areas. And there's this." He pointed to a skull symbol. "The Hanging Tree. According to the note, three applicants lost their minds there during the last examination. Still in the asylum."

He tapped the skull twice. "We avoid it entirely."

Shen, the monk with the shaved head, leaned forward. "What does 'nightmares made flesh' actually mean?"

"Unknown," Kage said simply. "But based on the phrasing—'steel your mind'—it's psychological warfare, not physical. The corruption targets your mental state. You'll see things. Experience things. Real or illusion won't matter because your body will react as if they are."

He moved his finger to the yellow line.

"Second: the Winding Path. Twelve kilometers. Seven hours. Curves around the worst corruption zones but still passes through moderate nightmare areas. Three campsites marked as 'less dangerous'—not safe, just less lethal. This is the compromise route."

Talia Emberforge folded her hands, studying the map with sharp focus.

"Hmmm, but these all seem terrifying and dangerous. If the Silent Grove is so dangerous that it causes permanent psychotic damage, then why don't we take the alternate route? Any calculating person would choose the alternate route."

Kage's response came in the same flat, measured tone—but something shifted beneath it, like bedrock moving.

"Because the world doesn't need calculating people. It needs mad people. Our ancestors—the heroes—they calculated, yes. But that's because they were geniuses who'd already glimpsed something beyond calculation. If we want to see what they saw, we can't afford calculation. The only thing we can afford is madness. I'm certain that fact was considered when they included this part of the test."

His words landed like a final drumbeat. He kept his gaze on the map, but the weight of what he'd said settled over them like dust after an explosion.