The best way to explain why Arin had laughed at the trap prepared for him was actually quite simple. The recruits had built the standard ambush that the Sonnenberg family themselves taught during ranger training whenever someone wanted to lure a pursuer without revealing their true destination. It was a solid foundation and worked well against inexperienced trackers who had not yet learned how to distinguish genuine trails from manufactured ones. Unfortunately for the recruits, they had forgotten the most important lesson that always accompanied that exercise.
Whenever the Sonnenbergs taught that trap, they also taught a second lesson that was even more important than the first. Always know who you are setting the trap for, because a technique that deceives one opponent may completely fail against another. Every hunter possessed different habits, levels of experience, and ways of observing the world around them. Ignoring those differences was often the quickest way to see an otherwise clever plan fall apart.
That was especially true within the Sonnenberg family itself. When family members played these games against one another, no one relied on the obvious bait trail taught to recruits because everyone already knew how to recognize it. Instead, the traps evolved alongside the hunters, becoming increasingly subtle as every generation learned to overcome the tricks of the previous one. It was an endless competition where both hunters and prey constantly forced each other to improve.
A proper Sonnenberg trap rarely relied on frequent clues. Instead, the person laying the false trail would reveal only a tiny piece of evidence every five hundred meters or so, forcing the pursuer to remain uncertain whether they were even following the correct route. Those clues were deliberately insignificant and easy to overlook unless someone knew exactly what they were searching for. That uncertainty encouraged experienced trackers to commit themselves to the wrong path without realizing they had been manipulated.
The clues themselves were equally subtle. Perhaps a patch of moss had been flattened only a few hours earlier, or a tiny branch near the base of a tree root carried a fresh nick from brushing against a cloak. Sometimes a single pebble would be turned over or a fern bent in an unnatural direction. None of those signs meant much individually, but together they created a believable story for anyone patient enough to read the forest.
Even more importantly, the false trail never simply followed existing animal paths from beginning to end. Animals moved according to their own habits, and experienced rangers knew exactly how those trails normally looked. If someone merely walked along one of them, the route immediately became suspicious because it lacked the small irregularities that naturally appeared when humans traveled through the wilderness. A convincing trail had to blend naturally with the environment rather than exploit it.
Such carefully prepared routes were also incredibly long. It was not uncommon for an experienced elder to construct a false trail stretching two kilometers or more before finally leading the hunter toward the actual trap. By investing that much time and distance into the deception, the elder created the impression that a younger family member had genuinely fled through the forest instead of deliberately guiding someone toward an ambush. The longer the trail continued, the more believable it became.
That level of patience separated masters from beginners. Every additional meter reinforced the illusion until even experienced rangers gradually lowered their guard and accepted the trail as authentic. Only then would the trap truly begin. Compared to that level of preparation, the ambush the recruits had assembled today felt remarkably straightforward to someone like Arin.
For Arin, the differences stood out almost immediately. The recruits had left behind obvious signs every few dozen meters instead of allowing uncertainty to build naturally over time. Their trail practically invited pursuit instead of subtly encouraging it. Rather than drawing him deeper into the trap, it simply announced that someone wanted him to walk exactly where they had planned.
That was precisely why Arin had been smiling while following it. He already knew where the recruits wanted him to go, but he was equally certain they believed their deception was working perfectly. Instead of avoiding the trap entirely, he decided to use it as an opportunity to teach them a lesson they would never forget. After all, there was no better teacher than personal experience.
Mya, meanwhile, waited patiently between a rocky ridge and a thick tree trunk overlooking the clearing. Every muscle in her body remained perfectly still as she watched the trail below, convinced that Arin would appear at any moment. She struggled to suppress an excited giggle as she imagined the surprise on his face once the entire ambush sprang into action. For the first time that day, she genuinely believed the recruits had a chance to defeat one of the Sonnenbergs.
That confidence lasted only a heartbeat. Without warning, a hand firmly covered her mouth before she could make the slightest sound. At the same instant, a wooden practice knife slid gently across her neck, stopping just long enough to leave no doubt about what had happened. Then a calm male voice whispered into her ear that she was dead before disappearing as silently as it had arrived.
Mya froze in complete disbelief. She had never even heard someone approaching her position, let alone sensed anyone standing close enough to touch her. By the time she turned around, there was nothing except gently swaying leaves and the familiar sounds of the forest. It was as though Arin had become part of the woodland itself.
Back at the former archery range, the recruits watching the live camera feeds were just as stunned. One after another, large crosses suddenly appeared across the screens belonging to contestants who had supposedly been hidden in perfect positions. None of the viewers had actually seen Arin eliminate them. They only watched the cameras fail one after another while their owners disappeared from the game.
A wave of confused whispers spread through the gathered recruits. Many replayed the footage repeatedly, searching for even the smallest clue explaining what had happened. Some thought the cameras had malfunctioned, while others wondered whether Arin had somehow approached from impossible angles. No matter how carefully they examined the recordings, however, they found no satisfactory explanation.
Lilly simply smiled as she watched the confusion spread through the audience. She had expected exactly this reaction because she had grown up watching her own elders perform similar demonstrations. To an inexperienced ranger, it looked almost supernatural. In reality, it was simply the result of countless years spent refining the same basic skills until they became second nature.
"Right, as you can all see behind me," Lilly said as she turned toward the recruits, "this is the difference between experience built through countless repetitions and instinctive knowledge developed over many years, compared to your current situation where you still have to consciously think about every movement you make."
She paused long enough for everyone to absorb her words before continuing. "Right now, you still have to remind yourselves how to breathe quietly, where to place your feet, when to lower your posture, and how to conceal yourselves properly. My grandchildren no longer think about those things because their bodies perform them automatically. That leaves their minds free to think several steps ahead instead."
Her expression became noticeably more serious as she looked across the silent crowd. "So I do not expect to hear any more complaints about the training regimen or about us saying that your education is not yet complete. The day you decide you have nothing left to learn is the day you stop progressing. And the moment you stop progressing is the moment you stop growing as both a ranger and as a person."
Silence followed her words. None of the recruits dared to argue anymore, because the evidence had just played out before their own eyes. They had believed they were ready, only to discover how enormous the gap still was between themselves and the people they hoped to become."But I have heard your pleas for less training," Lilly continued as she looked across the silent recruits. "I will admit that you have learned nearly everything we are currently capable of teaching in a classroom setting. We are still discovering new techniques ourselves, refining old methods, and innovating as the world continues to change around us. Because of that, the current training schedule has reached the limits of what it can realistically accomplish."
She allowed those words to settle before continuing. "That does not mean your training is finished. On the contrary, it means the nature of your training must change. The knowledge you have gathered in your heads now has to become something your hands, feet, and instincts can perform without conscious thought."
"The strict classroom-style lessons will become less frequent," Lilly explained. "Instead, your training will focus on practical experience, because experience cannot be memorized from a book or a lecture. It must be earned through success, failure, and repetition until every movement becomes second nature. Only then can you truly call yourselves rangers."
She folded her arms while looking over the hundreds of recruits standing before her. "That is also why every one of you will continue to be evaluated once every six months for the next twenty years. Those evaluations are not there to punish you. They exist to determine whether you truly retained the knowledge we taught you or whether you merely memorized enough information to pass an examination."
A quiet murmur spread through the gathered recruits. Twenty years sounded like an incredibly long commitment, especially after many of them believed they had already completed their education. Lilly ignored the whispers entirely because she had expected them. Experience had taught her that true mastery required patience measured in decades rather than months.
"Oh, and your transformed training will take the form of games exactly like the one you have just participated in," Lilly continued with a small smile. "Members of my family will personally participate in those exercises alongside you. More importantly, they will coach you individually afterward, pointing out every mistake you made and explaining how you can improve it. That is exactly how I was taught while growing up."
Unlike ordinary military drills, those games were designed to expose weaknesses that recruits did not even realize they possessed. Every mistake became an opportunity to learn, and every defeat became another lesson that would be remembered far longer than a written examination ever could. That approach had shaped generations of Sonnenberg rangers into masters of their craft. Lilly intended to pass that same tradition on to the recruits.
Even so, she was not completely satisfied with the solution. She knew better than anyone that the recruits still lacked something her own generation had taken for granted. The new system would certainly improve their practical abilities, but it still fell short of the education she herself had received as a child. Unfortunately, circumstances left her with few alternatives.
Growing up as a Sonnenberg had meant receiving advice from nearly everyone around her. At any given time, at least five experienced family members had been willing to observe her training, criticize her mistakes, and demonstrate better techniques. Every elder possessed different strengths, allowing her to learn from a wide variety of specialists rather than relying upon a single instructor. Looking back, she realized how fortunate she had truly been.
One elder specialized in tracking and could identify mistakes that no one else even noticed. Another excelled at concealment and taught techniques that made disappearing into the forest appear effortless. Others focused on archery, bow making, survival, navigation, or reading the moods of the forest itself. Each perspective added another piece to the puzzle, allowing every generation to refine the family's knowledge even further.
Perhaps the greatest advantage of learning from so many different experts was that they occasionally disagreed with one another. Rather than confusing the younger generation, those disagreements encouraged them to think critically and discover which methods worked best under different circumstances. Instead of blindly copying one teacher, they learned to compare techniques and understand why each approach succeeded or failed. That habit of questioning and refining had become one of the foundations of the Sonnenberg family's strength.
It was precisely that environment that Lilly wished she could recreate for the recruits. Sadly, reality simply would not allow it. The family did not have enough experienced members available to personally mentor every new ranger the way previous generations had done. Training thousands of recruits required compromises, even when no one wanted to make them.
Still, the new system represented the best solution currently available. Instead of relying entirely on formal lessons, the recruits would now spend most of their time applying their knowledge under realistic conditions while experienced Sonnenbergs corrected them afterward. Although it would take longer to achieve mastery, the practical experience would gradually transform theory into instinct. Lilly believed that, in time, the results would speak for themselves.
Fortunately, there was another factor working in their favor. Humanity's lifespan had increased dramatically since the arrival of mana, giving people far more years in which to perfect their crafts. Twenty years of additional training no longer represented a significant portion of someone's life. If anything, it simply allowed them to build a much stronger foundation before reaching true adulthood.
There was one final reason Lilly found herself smiling despite the enormous amount of work ahead. Karl had already announced that the majority of the Sonnenberg family would remain inside the Crimson Forest for at least the next two months. Having so many experienced rangers available at the same time was a rare opportunity. Lilly had absolutely no intention of letting that opportunity go to waste.
In fact, she had already begun planning an entirely new schedule in her head. The recruits would certainly be pushed harder than ever before, but they would not be the only ones suffering. The younger members of the Sonnenberg family would also participate, ensuring that everyone continued improving together. If there was one thing Lilly believed wholeheartedly, it was that no one, regardless of talent or experience, had ever truly finished learning.
As the training exercise finally came to an end, Arin and Tom walked out of the forest together while the recruits slowly gathered their equipment behind them. Both of them had noticed the thoughtful smile that had remained on Grandma Lilly's face ever since her speech ended. Unfortunately, they knew that particular expression all too well.
"Hey, Arin," Tom said with an uneasy grin. "I really don't like the smile Grandma Lilly has on her face right now. Every time she smiles like that, someone ends up regretting it."
"Neither do I," Arin admitted with a resigned sigh. "But I don't think either of us has much of a choice in the matter. If Grandma has already decided on something, resisting her usually just creates more work for yourself later."
Rather than dwell on their likely future suffering, Arin decided to change the subject. "By the way, do you know how those bees from that trade deal turned out?" he asked. "I've spent the entire last week reporting every detail of the mana stone expedition to the Elder Council, so I haven't really had the chance to look around the forest and see what has changed."
"Oh, I checked on them about three days ago," Tom replied enthusiastically. "They've done far better than anyone expected. My mother was overjoyed when she received them, and since then they've flourished beyond all expectations. They already have eight queens, and each one has established a thriving hive."
Arin raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "Eight queens already?" he asked. "That's a remarkable rate of expansion."
Tom nodded proudly. "It surprised all of us. Whatever species they belong to, they seem perfectly suited to the mana-rich environment of the Crimson Forest. The colonies are healthy, productive, and expanding faster than ordinary bees ever could."
"Oh yeah," Arin said as something finally clicked in his mind. "Your mother is the family's beekeeper, isn't she? Did she ever manage to identify exactly what kind of bees they are? I remember hearing that every attempt to classify them had failed so far."
Tom simply smiled before answering, clearly looking forward to explaining everything his mother had discovered.