"The day is 15th of September, 120 AD," Amarze intoned, his glowing silhouette guiding the participants through the cathedral. He stopped before a massive golden door. Its knob clattered loose, hinges crumbling. "The day of the Second Grand Reprisal."
He motioned his hand, weaving a bright blue portal into existence. "The twins do this better, but you know the saying — I fear not the man who knows a thousand kicks, but the man who trained one kick a thousand times!" His laugh was elegant, eyes aimed directly at Saraline.
"Let's just get this over with," Jeremiah sighed, tugging her armor as the group filed through the portal.
Miles' eye twitched violently as Zero lingered at the rear. Before he could speak, Amarze clapped a hand on his head.
"You'll have fun soon…" the First Angel grinned, warping Miles and Eliza elsewhere.
The participants emerged into a pure white auditorium. Every step rang expensive. Nearly twenty figures waited inside — and in the center stood the Saints of Floria.
Merlin, fur bristling, growled the moment the Imp moved to take a seat. "They've arrived."
"I assume that's all?" Merlin lifted a microphone, glanced at Rosamire, then cleared his throat. "Ahem! Let's begin with a history lesson, to praise our beautiful world of Omalga!"
He snapped his claws. Castor opened a rift, and handed him a book through Pollux. Merlin puffed his chest.
"Long ago, the world was divided: Africa, Europe, the Americas, Oceania, Asia, Antarctica. Then came the Great War. Humanity died. But the Origin rewrote reality — year zero became After Destruction. Today is the year 120 AD. For sixty years, we Saints have guided Omalga… and now, we wish to see the same of you!" His voice cracked into a snarl before he passed the mic to Lianous.
The man rolled his eyes. "Phases. The Reprisal has phases. Each one is hard. Don't expect trial shenanigans here. To stand here at all, you've already cleared death once."
Melissa shot up from the back row. "I'll cut you off there!"
Psylaiso muttered, "When did she get here?"
"I never got compensation for my trial!" Melissa snapped. "In fact, I was nearly killed by an angel after!"
Her brother's laugh rang from the stage.
"Melissa Guildford, right?" Michael Pendragon flipped through a notepad. "Chat amongst yourselves while we reset."
The seats were crammed. From left to right sat: Psylaiso, Saraline, Jeremiah, Gabriel with the disembodied head, Zero, and finally Melissa.
Jeremiah poked at Gabriel. "Any tension here?" he asked brightly.
"Stop that…" Gabriel muttered, Melphonne's cracked mask glinting. His voice was somber. "I don't like sitting beside the guy who tried to kill me."
"Grow up," Zero muttered. "If I had my way, you'd all be dead already."
Melissa's fist cracked across their eye. "You speaking for all of us, or just yourself?"
Zero turned his gaze on her. "You must be the other half of Eliza."
The others froze.
"Other half of who?" Jeremiah's cheer dropped to venom. His eyes burned with contempt.
Melissa blinked. "What do you mean?" she asked, voice so innocent it made the Imp shudder. Zero sank back into their chair, silent.
"Attention!" All the Saints roared into the mic at once. The room shook with their command. "We're back."
Michael raised his hand. "Melissa Guildford — you're cleared to participate."
Melissa slumped. "That… wasn't what I even asked for."
Merlin's voice boomed again. "Back to the history lesson! Or geography? Whatever. Civilization now rests on one continent, split into three kingdoms. Floria of Thidos. Ostra of Medea. And the wasteland once known as Invalia, Eliza's kingdom — gone in genocide." His eyes wet, he passed the mic.
"Enough of this!"
The voice came from the front row. A delinquent, armored head to toe in gadgets, jetpack whirring, leapt up. "I didn't kill half the world to sit through a lecture. Stop the school tour! Tell us about the challenges!"
The twins didn't flinch.
"That's what we were getting to," Castor and Pollux said in unison. Sweat gleamed on their temples. "The first challenge is a test of character. You will be placed in your pasts. Your fears, regrets, mistakes — all laid bare."
They passed the mic to Rosamire. Her grip snapped the metal in two.
"Do not fail," she growled. "Win, and proceed. Fail, and be erased. No limit to survivors. No mercy for the weak."
The side doors groaned open. The contestants split into two lines and walked — left or right — into their pasts.