The silence had almost become a breath.Then the Guide resumed.
— You are still alive.That alone is a miracle.But it is not enough.
He snapped his fingers.A circular projection rose into the air,like a halo of energy engraved with shifting symbols.It slowly spun above his gloved palm.
— Here is your trial.
Five waves of creatures.And one... variant.More evolved.More alert.
His tone slowed.
— Each wave will be harder than the last.If you survive the fifth...you may have the honor of facingwhat the Tower calls a "special specimen."
An anomaly created to test you,to break you,or... to reveal you.
A moment of silence. Then:
— You will have no rest between waves.No reinforcements.You will begin where you stand.In this state.With what you have — or don't.
He looked at the half-empty equipment table.Then returned his gaze to Kael and Gravyor.
— The Tower watches you.It calculates.
Every move.Every risk.Every surrender.
Your rewards will not come from what you kill...But from what you dared to sacrifice to survive.
He smiled.A colder smile this time.
— You have a few seconds.Then the trial begins.
The halo of energy above his hand swelled slightly.Another, darker circle appeared at the center of the first.
— The trial consists of five waves.Each one harder.More voracious.
They will come.You won't have time to wait for them.
He spun the circles.Five segments appeared.The fifth pulsed softly.
— At the fifth,you will face an exceptional specimen.
A "mini-boss," as some would say.A creature made to see what you can endure...or implode from.
He paused a second,eyes fixed on those who had already taken too much gear.
— But this is not the end.
A subtle ripple passed through the air around him,like a shiver through space.
— Those who survive... will have a choice.To advance.Or to attempt the Bonus Trial.
He stepped closer,almost amused.
— A voluntary confrontation.A personal gamble.Against the evolved version of the mini-boss.
A "boss," as some of your worlds like to name them.A being designed to crush.To punish...Or to reward beyond all logic.
He let the silence work.
— No merit will be given to those who refuse.But no blame will be cast either.
Then he fixed Kael with a look,as if slipping in a challenge.
— Some of you came to survive.Others... to change your nature.
He lowered his hand.The energy circles dissipated.
— Now...let the first wave begin.
The Guide spread his arms slightly.The ground vibrated with a faint, barely audible throb.
Then, one by one,luminous circles appeared beneath the feet of each candidate.
Not vertical portals.Concentric sigils,engraved with shifting light,like mechanisms awakening.
They absorbed nothing.Not yet.
— You have heard the rules.You have made your choices.Now... it is time to face the consequences.
He paused.His tone stayed calm,but every word seemed to echo deep inside ribs.
— The more waves you survive,the higher your essence will rise.
The more enemies you slay,the more the Tower will watch you with... interest.
He slowly pivoted,his gaze brushing each face.
— You can be expelled at any moment if death brushes you.That will be mercy.But the Tower never rewards mercy.
He let his words linger.
— And if one of you reaches the end...An offer will be made.A choice only the living may consider.
The circles began pulsing softlybeneath the candidates' feet.
— Your trial begins.Let your deeds speak.Let your choices burn.And let the Tower judge.
The first circle activated.A flash of light.A disappearance.
A second.A third.
Bodies dissolvedwithout a cry,without a twitch.Just... erased.
Veda watched hers pulse.She breathed deeply.
Gravyor glanced at Kael.Nothing.
Then it was his turn.Dissolved.
Finally... Kael.The last one.Still seated.
His circle burned beneath his feet,as if hesitating too.
Then the light took him.And he vanished.Silently.
The Guide remained alone.A nearly absent smile stretched his lips.
— Interesting.
The Guide settled in,like an analyst before a mosaic of living screens.
He scrutinized each arena at once,as if possessing multiple superimposed consciences,all focused,all lucid.
Some fled.Others, despite trembling,clenched their teeth,raised their arms,and fought.
Success? Failure?For these lesser beings, it mattered little.
But when a candidate exceeded their potential limits,when a light was born in the unexpected...
...then a thin smile would brush his mask.
A form of icy relief,as if he told himself:"Maybe... maybe not all failures."
He watched once morethese fighters driven by instinct and fear.
Then, slowly,he turned his attention to the special trial zone.The one just below the armory.Reserved for rejects, for the anonymous.The one the Tower placed between the lines, just to observe.
They were over a hundred at the start.But now...barely forty still stood,scattered across the various observation arenas.
Some had chosen a sword.Others a dagger, a bow, or an axe.
A few, confident,had entered nearly naked,betting everything on the promise of greater reward.
The system was simple:the more you take, the less you receive.But the longer you survive, the more you accumulate.
And this cruel mechanic had just revealed itself in all its truth.
The monsters were not powerful.They were worse.They were intelligent.
Gremlins.
Small, twisted,with clawed fingers,mad eyes.
Their skin seemed covered in a moist film,as if the air itself refused to dry them.
They did not charge.They slipped into shadows.Bypassed.Circulated.Observed.
They waited.
The first scream was not that of a warrior,but of a boy who fell to his knees,dagger in hand.
He hadn't been struck.He had collapsed,eyes rolled back,left arm suddenly paralyzed.
A gremlin had slipped behind him moments earlier.A scratch.Barely a trickle of blood.
But already, something was crawling beneath his skin.
Another participant, in another arena,growled as he knelt down.He spat on the ground, his throat burning.His guts twisted.
Nausea.Disorientation.
There had been no fight.Just a fleeting contact.A scratch.A bite.A trace.
And now, a poison.Or something else.
A girl with a saber trembled,sweat running down her temples.She spun around, panicked.
— Where are they?!Where the hell are they?!
She had seen clearly.A gremlin had brushed past her.Touched her.
Since then, a strange heat had climbed up her leg,like a slow fire in her veins.
They did not kill directly.They weakened.They broke.Then they struck.
Always from behind.Never alone.Never without calculation.
And when a target fell to the ground...
They didn't hesitate to take advantage.
The closest rushed in without waiting.Scratches.Bites.Raucous laughter.
They tore apart not to kill,but to savor.To have fun.
Their sadism was methodical.They targeted nerves,joints.
They left victims alive,crawling,conscious.
As if seeing someone begwas worth more than a cold corpse.
And everywhere, in every arena,the same scenario repeated.
A contact.A reaction.A slow descent,invisible,inevitable.Then the unleashing.
Some still tried to resist.
A man in his forties,clearly military,breathed heavily,his makeshift sword strapped to his forearm.
He had wounded two gremlins,alert,focused.
But his leg trembled.He didn't understand why.
And when he tried to step back to keep balance,he fell.
His hand clenched the ground.Then froze.
Paralysis.
One gremlin crept to his ear,softly.And left a sneer.A wet breath.
Then, it crawled away on all fours,satisfied.
They knew.They knew exactly how far to push,without crossing the line.
They let humans cross it themselves.In pain.In panic.In despair.