As the great metal doors of Roseview swung open in all their majesty, Ilya walked in among the crowd that came in to witness the Choosing.  She trained herself for this day, and to be here in the capital was nothing but an honour for her.  Her feet tapped lightly on the stone tiles as she swerved away from the main stream of people, and opted to crouch near one of the stone pillars around the arena.  In her line of work, stealth and anonymity were key concepts if one wanted to stay under the radar of death; and Ilya mastered that art quite nicely.  The girl nimbly rested herself on the ledge near the pillar, whilst one foot dangled while the other bent near her chest.  The traditional ebony hood of the Erekon Forager Squads still covered her facial features, and hid much of her identity, leaving her free to watch as the onslaught of challengers filed in to the centre.  Her eyes observed the battle-hardened proctors, wooden weapons in hand.  All of them looked intimidating as their posture gave nothing away.  Their stoic faces remained passive even if their would-be opponents towered over them.  All of them deserved the title of Slayers from their posture and demeanour alone.  The challengers and their matching proctors circled each other like prey and predator, death glares being sent left and right.  The people's voices quieted as the deep, long roar of the bell signalled the start of the test.

A ferocious sequence of terrific battles began!  One of the burliest contenders, Tanrou, smashed against the slayer with a resounding roar as both men fought for dominance.  Then, the proctor whipped around and locked Tanrou's arm over his shoulder before using his hands to slam the challenger outside of the ring with a resounding crack.  The crowd was sent into a frenzy as another challenger flew out when a sword broke against his skull-- the offending slayer raised his hand as another shout emanated from the wall of people.  "Come on, ye bebies!  Dun hide under yer mum's skerts, bawlin' and cryin' yer wee eyes wid lady tears!  Dun just be prancin' 'round 'ere if ye ain't up to de test!  AR' YE A SLAYER O' NOT!?"  Yelark taunted to his writhing opponents, heaving his wooden axe over his head.  The crowd answered with frantic cheers as bones broke and muscles swelled.

Ilya rolled her eyes to these challengers.  Sure, it seemed honourable to fight an opponent at full strength, but, in the woods, honour is worth nothing when you're dead.  Timing is of the essence in the field, and so in the art of marksmanship.  A single wind, a single leaf bore the potential to change the trajectory of a shot-- costing the entire mission to fail.  So, in this arena of battle, timing also became significant.  And, so did stealth.  Ilya had prepared her weapons and tools for this; she asked around and inquired as to the rules.  And, there were only two rules:  use wooden weapons, and try to not get trampled upon by the proctor.  So, as the Choosing went on, and more and more people were humiliated and thrown around, Ilya decided to make her move.  It was now or never.  All her life led to this moment.  She would not run away, because those who run from death stood still in life.  And, by the gods, never did she stand still.

Ilya rose from her position, and fitted a blunt, wooden arrow into the nock of her bow.  She aimed down the recurve at one of the arrogant proctors, and steadied her heart and mind.  After all, steady heart, steady aim.  The winds blew to the east, whilst leaves kept falling in an erratic sequence.  If so, the perfect shot should be from the west.  She pulled back the string, and breathed.  "Through this shot, you will transcend." Ilya mumbled under her breath as her fingers let loose the arrow.  The missile darted above the crowd, fanned by the eastward wind as it slammed into Yelark's left temple.  The proctor crumpled to the floor for a few seconds, giving Ilya enough time to dash towards the arena as the awe-struck crowd made way for the challenger.  As soon as the slayer regained his balance, he roared at the hooded challenger.  His dizzy state made it difficult for him to even make a fist, but his training as a slayer still intimidated the ambusher.

"Why, you...  dirty...!"  Yelark mumbled, brandishing his axe in front of him.

"You talk too much for a slayer.  I believe that if this were the real field, you'd have had an arrow through your head."  Ilya removed her hood, shocking the crowd to a female's presence in the ring.  "Shouldn't a slayer be more on guard?"

"I don't normally hit females, but for a tramp like you,"  Yelark licked the edge of the wooden axe.  "I'll make an exception."  The crowd roared in support of the slayer as Ilya fitted another arrow into her bow.

"I'd like to see you try, kid."  the girl replied with a smug grin.

Yelark roared, charging forward before spinning his axe horizontally.  In a flash, Ilya tumbled to right before shooting the wooden arrow towards the slayer who deflected it with the backside of his axe.  The slayer bolted once more as Ilya leaping towards the farthest side of the ring, and continuously shooting arrows at the maddened slayer.  Each time, Yelashov weaved and spun around the arrows, dodging them as a skilled slayer would.  Then, Ilya aimed to the skies, letting loose an arrow before fitting another whilst aiming for Yelark, who, once again, smashed it with his weapon.  By this time, the slayer got close enough and heaved his axe like a guillotine.  Ilya, surprised by his speed, stumbled sideward, barely avoiding a wooden chop, and tumbled forward.  Relentless, the slayer rotated his axe, and swung it behind him, forcing Ilya to use her bow as a shield, just enough to give her time to bend her head to the side, and avoid the axe's edge whilst her bow was riven in two.  The woman flipped backward and pulled out her wooden dagger, duelling the slayer in a frenzy of slashes, parries, lunges, and swings.  

Then, Ilya sprinted for the other side of the ring, causing Yelark to pursue.  However, she quickly spun and slid towards Yelark, passing beneath his legs and slashing her dagger against his heels.  Quickly, she got up and threw her dagger at him before sprinting towards her opponent.  She knew Yelark, when caught by surprise, would opt to block with his axe, and in this case, he would be open to her final ace.  As the dagger sped towards the slayer, indeed, he swung his axe to deflect the dagger aside before focusing his eyes in front-- only to witness the visage of Ilya floating towards him whilst right hand was extended to the air, a wooden arrow dropping between her fingers.  The slayer was in utter disbelief as this woman's skill and as she swung the arrow straight at him, an intense desire to win fuelled his next actions.  Yelark gritted his teeth, and swung his axe in an inhuman speed.  However, the axe barely nicked Ilya's body-- only a few millimetres remained between her skin and the axe.  But, after a fraction of a second, Ilya's eyes opened in pain.  She was blown backwards, rolling around the arena until half of her body dangled over the edge.

She could have sworn she didn't get hit by the axe, but why was she blown away?  And, why couldn't she move?  

Her eyes weakly trailed to the slayer who approached her-- who beat her fair and square.  At once, Ilya knew that she failed in her mission.  Gone were her days of dreams and happiness...  she would go back to the Erekon Squads, forever shamed and disrespected for her arrogance.  However, before she could consider leaving, Yelark grabbed her hand, and helped her up.  She came face to face with the slayer, a gentle smile plastered on his lips.  "Ye passed, child.  Here,"  he tucked in her hand a parchment with instructions on where to go for the next part.  "Well done, sister.  What is your name?"  the slayer inquired as the crowd now began to clap and cheer.  Ilya now began to regain her balance, and focused on answering the question.

"...  I...  Ilya."  she answered before staggering back.

"Sister Ilya...  go forth.  Your essence of timing is...  impressive.  I believe you will achieve a lot in your path."  Yelark spoke in a different tone and voice as he bid her on.

A smug grin invaded Ilya's lips as she lifted her head high, and clicked her tongue.  "Of course.  You're looking at the best archer in Erekon, kid.  Ain't no way I'm not going to be a slayer.  My arrows always hit their mark."  she winked before spinning around and hopping off the stage.  Although she displayed an air of confidence and arrogance, her core trembled and quivered in joy within.  An idiotic smile tried to force its way to her face, but Ilya kept it down and played it cool.  Still, she did release a relaxed sigh and a gentle smile, looking at the outline of the city's buildings.  "You're worth something Ilya...  you're worth something."  she chuckled, and opened the parchment.  Soon, she would step into the next chapter of her life.  The timing of it all was impeccable.