Fateless Anointed

Waking up he found himself in a hospital. He'd always seen the rugged hero get up from the hospital bed, tearing cables off and finding answers. He didn't. All he wanted to do was sleep. Forever. Forget the shame and humiliation he felt. His eyes were open but stared blankly.

"Hello? Hello-o?"

He didn't respond. All he did was turn his head to look at the nurse and his parents. They didn't say anything either. Regret was on his face like paint and sorrow on his parents'. The Message still was at the forefront of his mind, never leaving.

"Can you speak?" The nurse turned to his parents and said in a whisper, "Is he mute? I thought it didn't choose kids with disabilities...."

His mom spoke her anger visually with her face. His dad only gripped Valen's shoulder and looked down. The nurse realized her misstep, almost apologized, but thought better of it and walked away.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay son. You just made a mistake. That's all. It's okay." His father didn't really speak to his son fully. It was mostly to himself.

With the new education system, anointed deaths dropped quite dramatically. It wasn't guaranteed survival though, especially when an anointed never paid attention in class. He had to sometimes, but it was all either forgotten or common sense.

What could he even do now? Suddenly take six years worth of survival courses in six days? The Message would only last for 7 days before it forced you into a Trial. Was there no hope?

All he could do is get it over with.

"I... I'm going to do it as soon as possible. Maybe I'll get lucky."

His parents fragile disposition shattered. Tears. Ugly faces. Hugs. They couldn't stop him, of course. It was inevitable that he'd go eventually. About an hour of goodbyes and I love yous passed. He focused on the Message.

"Inscription of the Anointed

Choose your ambition.

Ambition of an Animal

Ambition of a Hunter

Ambition of a Follower

Ambition of a Soldier

Ambition of a Leader

Ambition of a Lord

Ambition of an Overlord

Ambition of a Conqueror"

With such a pathetic preparation, he chose the weakest, most shunned, even cowardly choice. Ambition of an Animal. The ambition to merely survive and run from danger. Nothing of use was ever gained from this Ambition. No limit increase, no Inscription of practical use... it was worthless. But he had no choice.

His parents watched as he fell asleep, maybe for the last time. No one was happy in that room.

He woke up. All that he remembered about the Trials was that there was a problem that needed to be solved. Fix it, destroy it, help it, whatever. As long as it's done, you'll go back. This was the case for the typical Trial anyways. Most anointed chose the Ambition of a Follower or Ambition of a Soldier. Such an opportunity alongside propaganda and sufficient preparation increased people's ambitions. Thus, the weaker Ambitions were looked down upon and not very well researched.

He was dressed in rags. The sun rose to show him the hide tents around him with a dead fire in the center. A couple others in similar clothing were near him. A man walked out of a tent in much better clothing, seemingly made of more than the remains of a tunic. A longbow was in his hand and a quiver on his shoddy belt. Similar men appeared from the tents, amounting to six proper men and three men in rags.

"Slaves. Stand." The two men in rags stood sheepishly. Valen was bewildered with all that he saw. Hide tents, bows, makeshift everything, slaves... he wasn't in the real world anymore. The rolling hills and valleys surrounded him, jade green grass softly being caressed by morning breezes. Mountains in the distance, forming a view of a beautiful frontier.

"Stand!" A jab landed in his side. He'd never been hit before, or commanded so forcefully. His arrogance remained even after humiliation, but his fear of pain triumphed over it. He stood up, wincing from the blow. In reality, it wasn't a blow, merely a nudge to these hunters.

"Pack our belongings. We head back to the mountain in an hour."