Standing at the edge of the forest, a couple of hundred feet from the behemoth that was the Huntsmen's fortress, Mors took a deep breath before walking forward.

He had been standing there for the last thirty minutes, trying to decide how he was going to interact with Verz, finally settling on just being himself. He cared little for anyone else, well that was a small lie as he would quite happily slaughter every other huntsman and eat their cores, but he didn't feel too negative towards the wolfkin herself so he could at least be civil.

Hmm, maybe it's the effect of that angelic pact, and, not that I would ever admit it to anyone but, I think I might actually be looking forward to seeing her... pathetic.

Nodding to himself, feeling he had made a huge mental step forward, even if his latest thoughts slightly disturbed him, from a few weeks ago, Mors' improved senses picked up the movements of the sentries on top of the domineering, grey-stone walls and ramparts as they noted his presence before completely ignoring him.

He had seen this view many times, mostly at night when he visited Ethemeusa's grave, but he was always impressed by the fortress. It was as if a god had decided to make his last stand, investing everything he could into physical defences and somehow deep down, Mors could not help but praise whatever being created such an outstanding structure.

He knew that walls were only the first line of defence. Behind them was a maze of smaller forts, barracks, training grounds and other militaristic buildings. So perfect in their defensive design, that any attacker powerful enough to take the walls would almost certainly fall into despair when they saw the impossible task ahead of them.

Mors chuckled, even with his sin of pride, and if he were a trillion times more powerful and an army of millions, he would never attack this place. Every fibre of his being screamed at him of how dangerous it was and for once, it was a challenge he was not tempted to accept.

If this is merely a fortress, I wonder what the Federation or Imperial Capitals are like? The thought suddenly struck Mors, and he suddenly had the desire to travel the world.

I guess that can wait until I am done with present commitments... it's not like I have a time limit or plan on destroying the world... anytime soon.

Mors smiled at his warped humour and the realisation that, in a world of magic, gods and possessing an immortal soul, it might not be impossible if he really wanted to destroy the world.

The sun was only just rising above the treeline behind him as he suddenly stopped, his face contorting in a pained expression as he released a terrifying hiss.

God damn it. I didn't collect the cores, especially from that old man and girl... I was too caught up in the moment. I would of never spared her if I remembered.

Holding the bridge of his nose as he took deep breaths, he resisted the urge to turn around and return to collect his prizes.

They will be gone Mors. There is no point in going back. You're just going to have to find another creature with the fire attribute to kill. There's bound to be millions of them. Just let go... let it go. Aww, fuck it I want to kill something so bad.

Mors had been in a bad mood ever since he was reminded of Ethemeusa's sacrifice, but with the realisation of his loss, he was now livid.

Great, one bloody step forward, two steps back. I know it has always been like this in life, but it's getting pretty damn irritating.

Deciding to distract himself, Mors focused on what he had to do and before long; a wicked smile grew on his face. I hope those wannabe huntsmen are up for a fight. Verz did say that anything was OK as long as they didn't die. Though I can't promise anything if they are weaklings, I haven't exactly been practising restraint.

Mors' smile vanished as he felt a light, almost unnoticeable pressure on his shoulder causing him to subconsciously flinch.

Slowly looking over, Mors spotted a white, frail looking hand and immediately knew who it belonged to.

A feminine, lighthearted voice flowed gently into his opposite ear. "My, so early in the morning and you are already oozing bloodlust. I pity the woman that wakes up next to you... though you will probably be a demoness's wet dream when you evolve. Looking like a brat is kind of a turn-off, or so I hear."

Mors jumped forward, releasing another hiss, before rapidly turning around and glaring at the Huntsman wearing brown leather armour, her silver eyes creased by the smile that was hidden behind her white mask. "That's assuming they ever wake up."

"Hmm, didn't know you were into the undead. I guess my beauty and charm has warped you a little," chuckled Verz.

Initially, she was extremely hostile to the thought of yet another person knowing her secret, but after thinking about it, if Mors was going to become the successor of the Moon Clan, she would hide nothing from him, even the fact that she was an undead. Verz making light of her condition was her way to limit its effect as a potential weapon and hopefully, make it less appealing for Mors to use as she knew he had an explosive temper.

Mors' eyes twitched. "Urg, I think I preferred the cold, heartless Verz. I guess this attitude change is permanent?"

"Yup, well, when no one else is around. What's the point when you seem to pretty much know everything? Anyway, it just makes it more fun for me. It's not often I can taument.. I mean talk freely with someone other than Velcea, and she isn't much fun to tease," responded Verz, flicking her head to the side, causing her silver hair to catch the sunlight, her wolf ears twitching slightly.

Mors couldn't help but groan as another one of Grim's 'gifted' memories turned out to be true. He suspected it, with how she interacted with Rock and the others but, he was really hoping that this wasn't the case as it was a personality he had always been weak to in his past life.

Deciding that he could not deal with Verz at the moment, particularly since he was still annoyed by his forgetfulness and was keen to keep his temper under control, Mors started walking towards the fortress. "Shall we get some clothes or do you want your only disciple to look like some homeless bum in front of all your 'friends'?"

Verz laughed as she stepped beside him, the two long silver swords rattling as she walked. "I thought you were going to decide after the initiation?"

Mors shrugged. "Until I am strong enough, it will help having a real monster keeping the riffraff at bay, and it's not like you will take no for an answer is it?"

Verz was obviously extremely happy with his answer, shown by her tail rapidly moving from side to side, and quickly threw a small leather bag to Mors. "A little present for you accepting so quickly. Though I am slightly disappointed that I couldn't use the backup plans. Throwing you into a den of sex deprived succubuses or breaking all your limbs and making a different person take care of your needs each day, like a little baby, were probably amongst some of the most attractive options.

Mors' eye twitched. "I don't think that either of them would have ended very well for you and to be honest, just so you don't get any weird ideas in the future, I don't know what would have been worse. Unlike everyone else on this damn planet, I value my intimate encounters."

"No, I doubt they would of, but I get the feeling it would have been funny to watch. And don't be such a prude. Even the strongest of us can die at any moment. Why let a good thing pass if the moments right? It's basic nature for every creature to want to pass on their seed," chuckled Verz, scratching under her chin with a dagger.

Ignoring Verz, Mors opened the small bag and was shocked to find red and black mana cores, much smaller than the trolls but still enough to give him a decent power boost in an emergency, however, as he recovered from his surprise; Mors couldn't help but frown. "How do you know? Also, what are you after by giving these to me?"

"What? Can't I treat my favourite pupil once in a while, especially if it helps him get stronger?" Verz held the black with red flecks plate, strikingly similar in colour to the mana cores, that had formed out of Mors' hand at the cemetery in front of him so that he could see the blue writing on its surface.

Devourer of mana [Mythical]

Defying the laws of Acoria, the host can devour mana cores, using the released energy to improve his body, increase the effectiveness of skills and abilities for a limited time.

Cores that are not related to the host's affinities will poison the host,

reducing the ability to manipulate mana and cause extreme pain until purged from the body.

None affiliated mana types effectiveness reduced by 50%

Slight permanent increase to muscle strength and durability

Slight permanent increase to mana capacity

Warning: Increases the risk of mana related mutations.

Mors tried to take the plate, but Verz quickly hid it in a pocket on her side. "Nope, I am keeping this. How else am I going to know how fast you're improving or if you have gotten yourself killed and I have to start abducting newborns?"

Mors released a small growl before chucking a mana core into his mouth and crunching, feeling his tired muscles ease and tingle.

Verz eyes were wide and she almost tripped over her own foot, for the first time in four hundred years. "Even though I know the status stone will never lie, it's still unbelievable that you can just chow down on a mana core as if it were nothing. Doesn't it hurt?"

After thinking for a moment, Mors could not think of a good reason not to tell Verz, seeing as she had read the same status he had and it wasn't as if the information would be detrimental to him. "As long as they are of the fire or darkness affinity, I only feel mild discomfort until I need to take a piss, then... well, let's just say it's a bit explosive."

Verz laughed as Mors continued with a sarcastic tone. "That's nothing compared to when it's another affinity or mixed; it's more painful than being burnt at stake with imbued fire."

Verz eyebrow raised behind her mask. "Well, seeing as the mana should cause your body to disintegrate, I guess you are getting off pretty light and out of everyone I know, you are the only person who qualifies to make that comparison."

"That I am," muttered Mors as he analysed the stone blocks, faint blue runes could be seen reflecting the sun's rays before his gaze moved to the huge gatehouse where a few merchant caravans were waiting to gain entry. "But you know what they say, no pain, no gain."

Verz's laugh caused Mors to flinch, immediately realising his mistake. "Never heard of that one but I am sure you are going to regret telling me."

Mors could do nothing but shake his head. "I don't doubt that for a second."

The pair easily passed the guards, who saluted their captain with the uttermost relevance and they quickly made their way through the twisting streets towards the centre.

"Mors," Verz broke the uncomfortable silence. "You're a demon of wrath. Even though I feel my actions was justifiable at the time and... that my current feelings may have swayed by your ability, I won't apologise for the way I treated you. At that moment, I did what I had to do and apologising for that would be a lie. Are you really willing to let bygones be bygones and become my disciple?"

Mors smiled as he took in the sights of the militaristic city. "Nope."

Verz steps faulted.

"But who said I really had an issue with you in the first place. The others, how they acted on a mere rumour, definitely, and I don't think I will ever see eye to eye with them. I guess my reaction in the cemetery towards you was just..." Mors stopped as he struggled to find words that his pride would allow him to speak. " just..."

Verz turned her head to look at the struggling demon. "You acting like a spoilt child?"

Mor's head snapped to look at Verz, and he let out a hiss. "I was just thinking it would be a kindness to put someone who was already dead and suffering out of their misery so why not stay close and make sure you regret every moment of your undead life."

Verz shrugged her shoulders as she stepped into a tall building, the sound of metal working ringing out the door. "Whatever you say little demon, whatever you say."

Mors stared at the doorway before letting out and almost inaudible sigh. "I really wish I stayed in the forest." Without wasting any more time, he followed her into the building.

Over five hours later, the sun was high in the sky as crowds of noble looking people were escorted by ever watchful huntsmen guards, ensuring that the nobles were not a threat, towards a huge oval shaped colosseum, towering into the bright sky, the intense sun having burnt off the early morning cloud.

Letting out a disapproving grunt, a fat noble complained to a skinny woman with a sharp, bird-like face, both dressed in regal-looking red silks. "How can they get away with treating us like cattle, especially after charging us so much to get into this oversized hill-fort. They even have the audacity to make us pay for any younglings they do not want."

The skinny woman revealed a cold smile. "Even the rejects of the Huntsmen have incredible potential. Be happy you have not been removed for all your complaining. Our numbers are not as large as they were when we arrived."

Another man, this one wearing blue silk under his light, plate armour responded after overhearing the two. "Suspected spies from a certain clan. They are probably regretting the day their parents met at this moment, but your friend is right. We have been sent here because we are expendable if we offend our hosts. Stop your grumbling before you too disappear and drag innocent people with you."

The fat man glared at the newcomer but did not say anything and soon they were led to the rows of stone seats surrounding the Colosseum, seemingly nothing more than oversized steps.

Once seated, they gazed upon the centre, their eyes trying to make sense of the seemingly chaotic layout.

Wooden pillars of varying height rose from the floor, surrounded by a maze of stone walls, ramps and even some deep looking pits. The whole thing looked more of an assault course than an arena but then again, the initiation was not designed to just test an individual's strength, but other, more subtle aspects.

The seats the nobles occupied was less than five percent of the stadium's total capacity, but that did not mean it was empty. Every other seat was filled by a silent, black cloaked, white masked huntsmen, each looking for potential disciples to adopt into their teams.

The only place that was not crowded was a large platform above the only entrance to the arena. There, five chairs, one at the front, flanked by two at each side, were occupied by the leaders of the Huntsmen. The only vacant seat holding a single, black rose.

Verz scanned the crowd impatiently. Normally she would pass the responsibility for overseeing the trial to one of her lieutenants. However, she was to use this trial as a benchmark for Mors' ability so she could accurately gauge where to start their training. Her final words to him as she left him in the entrance tunnels was that if he did not go all out, she would personally make his life for the next week a living hell.

The wolfkin chuckled as a terrifying grin appeared under her mask. Well, he is probably going to think its hell anyway. What was that saying? No pain, No gain.

A single Huntsman appeared on the largest pole, in the centre of the arena, and the soon noisy nobles fell silent. "Welcome to the two-hundredth and sixteenth huntsmen initiation exams. I will now explain the rules for the benefit of the visitors before we get underway.