All the elders sat along the stone benches at the far corner of the grand gathering field, their robes flowing like ancient banners, watching the empty arena with anticipation. Their voices was low and heavy with wisdom, threaded through the silence as they waited for the trainees to return.
"I believe the Fire Faction will bring the most bunnies," one elder murmured with pride. "This year, more trainees are overwhelmingly fire-aligned. The hunting must be done with heat senses, explosive pursuit… fire faction can excel at aggression "
Another elder shook his head with a faint smile. "You forget the very nature of the trial. Forest, greenery, camouflage—no one hunts better in the woods than the Wood Faction. Nature answers them. Vines, roots, wind whispers. Fire burns loudly… wood listens."
At the corner, Elder Faidenthor released a sudden laugh—deep, nostalgic, echoing like an old wolf calling to the moon.
