The white sun of the Celestial Gardens cast its light over the Celestial Stadium like a divine spotlight, as if the sky itself awaited what was about to be pronounced. Rhygar, the grand master of the Archangels with his grave voice, rose in the imperial box, silhouetted against the firmament. His crimson cape billowed fiercely, and the multitude of aspirants, standing at attention, held their breath.
In the center of the stadium, suspended by pulsating energy fields, floated a liquid screen the size of a warship. Its surface undulated with metallic reflections, projecting light over all present. It was the eye everyone would watch… the mirror that would show judgment. The entire stadium was silent. The air was dense, almost ritual.
"Aspirants…" Rhygar began, his voice reverberating like contained thunder. "The first wall has been overcome. But if you believe you've faced the most difficult trial, it's because you haven't yet looked into the abyss."
As he spoke, his eyes—reddish like embers—seemed to see beyond the walls, as if perceiving the tremor of something to come.
A muffled murmur ran through the stands, as if thousands of voices wanted to escape at once, but none dared break the solemn silence. The air was so dense that even the bravest swallowed with difficulty. Some aspirant let escape a drop of sweat running down their forehead, without moving a muscle. Others, with clenched fists, tried to appear calm. It was a ritual climate, as if the entire stadium were in a temple awaiting the sentence of a god.
A slight movement of his hand sufficed. The liquid screen turned black for a second, and then showed a planet wrapped in green mist, with colossal roots crossing oceans and electric storms traversing a humid and dense atmosphere.
On the other side of the world, in the bowels of the Dark Zone…
The ruins of concrete and rust of an old bunker trembled with the echoes of ignited engines. Ten hooded figures moved like shadows through the dense fog hanging from the ceiling like a web of dust.
In the center of the group, a woman rose among the others. Her slender figure was covered by a cape made of black and worn feathers. Her skin was white as cracked marble, and upon her head, the skull of a robust crow hid her face. Only her voice, grave and deep, filtered through the gloom.
"Be ready," she said. "Sylas will not tolerate failures. When the portal opens there will be no turning back."
Her words were a prayer and a sentence. Around her, the rebels armed magnetic rifles, plasma-edged blades, and stealth belts. An ascent transport platform—rusted but operational—began to vibrate with stolen energy. They were headed straight to the Celestial Gardens. No one said it, but everyone knew: they were going to interrupt the exam, die trying. Or so they believed.
Back in the stadium…
"What you will face," Rhygar continued, "is not a simple combat. Not even a test of abilities. It is a sentence."
He made a gesture with his hand, and the liquid screen projected a planet covered in jungle, with three aligned moons and a misty atmosphere that beat like a living heart.
"This planet is called Amazonia," he said, letting the word float. "One of the six worlds anchored to our system through the jump points that connect the Stellar Network to which our world Arkanis belongs. Jump points are found on some planets like this, to connect the distances in the immense universe. Amazonia is a planet with no advanced civilization. No cities. Only life and death."
The planet rotated in the projection, revealing vast green oceans, electric storms crossing floating roots, six-legged creatures howling in the treetops like heralds of death.
"Amazonia is pure jungle. There are no cities. No roads. Only wild life and stealthy death. In that place you will take the second exam, though in the history of the Archangels, this is called the Second Wall: that of Will."
The screens began to show moving images: quicksand bogs, breathing trees, thousands of trees over a hundred meters tall, quadruped beasts covered in moss, apes with bone spears, floating mists hiding creatures still unnamed, large insects, and humanoid figures with empty eyes sliding between branches as if waiting.
"You will be divided into random groups of five aspirants, and each group will be launched into a region within the exam perimeter. Each will carry an identification brooch, plus a sensor that will mark their life… or their death."
Rhygar's voice became harder.
"Each team must gather eighty brooches within a two-week deadline. The brooches must be obtained by defeating… or killing. When they reach the Midway Station, in the heart of the forest, they can turn them in. If they arrive before the deadline, they must wait there. Teams that arrive incomplete, without the eighty brooches, or beyond time… will be eliminated from the exam."
The screen projected the Midway Station: a metallic dome shaped like a fallen teardrop, hidden in a clearing, surrounded by beasts patrolling its perimeter.
"This planet is contained in a zone delimited by energy fields. You cannot escape. You cannot be rescued. Once inside… the portal will not open again until the two weeks have ended."
"Not even the empire's generals can intervene. Not me. If you fall… you will fall alone."
From the skies of Amazonia, like a constellation awakening, thousands of small drones with integrated screens lit up over the exam perimeter. They would be in charge of transmitting key scenes: fights, wounds, deaths. Transcendental moments would be projected both in the stadium and in Amazonia's sky, so the aspirants themselves could see fragments of the war being waged around them.
"This is a real war exam. It is the only way to know… if you are prepared to face the universe that awaits beyond these clouds."
The screen now showed in sequence the names of aspirants sorted into each team, making the stands vibrate with murmurs, cheers, bets, and speculation. Some known names provoked bursts of enthusiasm. Others… bewilderment.
The announcement of the rules ignited an explosion of emotions. Some aspirants shouted euphorically, raising their arms, confident in their strength. Others paled, their gaze fixed on the ground, knowing the two-week deadline was almost a condemnation.
Among the crowd, a trembling voice rose barely above the murmur:
"The last time someone crossed the Second Wall… more than half never came back…"
Another whisper corrected it, even more somber:
"It wasn't half… it was more than eighty percent. Of over two thousand who reached that stage, only seven passed."
The echo of those words fell like a knife, freezing many's skin. The tension became denser. Fear and expectation mixed like poison in the air.
On the edges of the stadium, beneath the farthest stands…
A slight hum, imperceptible to ordinary sensors, vibrated in the living rock. In an underground compartment forgotten by the maps, the group of rebels waited.
"Now," said the woman in the crow helmet.
One of the hooded figures activated an interlace, a forbidden artifact, composed of floating rings of Aetherion. Its core vibrated with a dark energy, as if a dormant creature pulsed within.
The interlace reacted to the burst of official portals. Like a diverted echo, it created an alternate portal, silent, furtive, that opened like a crack in the air. A bluish lightning connected with its original location in the Dark Zone, and in a matter of seconds, transported the rebel group directly to the exam perimeter, inside Amazonia.
No one saw them.
No one… except two people.
Isolde Varkas and a soldier accompanying her had detected the anomaly too late. When they tried to stop the hooded figures, the energy rift trapped them without mercy. In a blue flash, their bodies were dragged along with the rebels, thrown into Amazonia without anyone in the stadium noticing.
No alarm sounded.
They were inside.
The woman took a step forward. Her breathing was calm, almost reverent.
"May the heavens open… so we may fly."
Her voice was lost among the stadium's roar, among the cheers of thousands of spectators, as the portal through which they entered closed.
And then it happened.
In the middle of the parade of names and groupings, the screens showed a group that didn't appear in any imperial registry. Hooded figures. Faceless figures. Absolute silence. The stadium erupted in confusion. Thousands of voices rose as one beast, roaring in disorder.
But there they were.
The crowd's shout exploded like a wild wave. Not from glory… but from bewilderment. Something didn't fit. Protocol had failed. Or something had fooled the system.
Rhygar said nothing. But his eyes—hard as stone—narrowed for a second. Perhaps… he had foreseen it.
From the upper stands, Kraven, Monarch General of the empire, propelled himself with titanic force and landed with a jump on the portal platform. His face was marked by urgency.
"They're inside!!" he bellowed. "My squadron, with me!!"
From the stadium's edges, elite soldiers appeared like ghosts: black armor, visors. They didn't hesitate. They didn't ask permission.
Protocol was broken.
One by one, the soldiers launched themselves toward still-open portals, following Kraven's call. They knew a rebel group had fooled the system. They had to act. Even if that meant entering Amazonia without authorization… without guaranteed return.
Rhygar appeared at that instant.
"Kraven, no! It's madness!" he roared, extending a hand to stop him.
But it was too late.
Kraven threw himself into the vortex.
From the dark zone in a hidden bunker among metallic roots and corroded walls, a small group watched a screen projected before them. The blue light of the projector illuminated the faces of those present with a ghostly glow. Vektor, Kael's grandfather, frowned as his eyes followed every movement in the Celestial Stadium. At his side, Noa, Kael's little sister, barely contained her curiosity.
"I hope this doesn't affect Kael," Vektor murmured, with a grave and worried voice. "And also… I hope this doesn't bring us problems. I don't want us to be punished for this."
An adult woman, named Velira, adjusted her posture before the projector. At her side, a trustworthy soldier named Merak, one of the few who treated the Dark Zone inhabitants well, had facilitated the viewing device. Everyone remained tense, fascinated and fearful at once.
"I can't believe he placed third," Merak said smiling with admiration. "Among thousands… Kael really is impressive."
"He sure is," responded one of the people watching the screen.
Noa, unable to contain her spontaneity, raised her arms and pointed enthusiastically toward the screen:
"I just want to see the handsome Aelius and Ian! It was obvious my little brother would pass."
Laughter escaped among the group, lightening the tension for a moment. Even Vektor let out a half smile while shaking his head.
But the levity vanished as soon as the hooded figures burst into Amazonia. The rebels' precise and silent movements immediately called everyone's attention.
"It's Sylas… or Kaelara," Velira whispered, her voice laden with alarm. "You can't see their face, but by their clothing it must be Kaelara."
"Kaelara the Black Crow," Vektor murmured.
Vektor tensed his fists.
"Damn it… let's hope this doesn't interfere with the aspirants," he said, looking worriedly at the screen. "Kael is in one of those groups. And, above all, that this doesn't bring us problems. Kael is achieving so much for us for them to ruin it right now."
Noa took a step forward, her face reflecting surprise and a touch of childish fascination.
"But look, Kae is impressive!" she murmured.
"You shouldn't admire that woman, Noa," Velira added, adjusting the projector to better follow the movements. "This isn't a simple attack."
"Velira is right, Noa," Vektor whispered.
Merak, serious and attentive, murmured:
"If they enter with intentions to harm the aspirants… it'll be a disaster. But I trust that the high command can somehow contain them."
Vektor closed his eyes for an instant, breathing deeply, trying to calm the mixture of admiration, fear, and concern he felt.
"Just observe and let's hope," he finally said, his voice laden with authority. "Kael is there… and we must trust he'll come out well. And above all… that none of this brings us problems."
The group remained silent, attentive to the rebels' every movement, while the projection showed how Amazonia became a deadly game board, where the destiny of the young aspirants and the audacity of the Dark Zone began to intertwine.
In the Celestial Gardens, the portals began to close. Energy descended. Only one more flash, and they would shut off forever until the end of the two weeks.
Kraven and his soldiers had entered through the portals behind the rebels, but at that instant, someone else launched themselves.
Alistair.
Fast as a discharge, he crossed the air with a sonic-luminous explosion. Even faster than Ian and Makia. His body was only speed, a black and red figure traversing the platform toward the last portal that was almost vanishing. Meanwhile, inexplicable tremors occurred in the Celestial Gardens.
He was about to enter. One step away.
But a hand emerged from inside the portal.
A hand in red, rusty armor.
Kraven.
He pushed him with his open palm on the chest forcefully and without hesitation, and with a brutal shove, threw him out of the portal just before it closed completely. As the portal closed, it showed a perverse smile.
Alistair fell to the ground violently. He didn't breathe immediately. His open eyes, fixed on the place where the portal had disappeared.
For an instant, time seemed motionless.
The tremors ceased.
He didn't understand what had just happened.
Why?
No one knew.
But in the stadium… the silence was absolute.
And over the Celestial Gardens, the sky seemed grayer than ever.
By then, Aelius, Ian, Makia, and Kael had already been transported to Amazonia with their respective groups. None of them witnessed the hooded figures' intrusion, nor Kraven's desperate entrance, nor the brutal shove that left Alistair sprawled on the platform. The only thing they would know would be the rumor transmitted by the drones… and the silence that the stadium arena would never forget.
…The last portal closed.
And with it, the chapter Alistair couldn't write.
Tiberius observed the confusion that erupted in the stands and on the portal platform. His green eyes swept over each movement with unbreakable serenity.
"Calm down," he said with a firm but calm voice, more to himself than to others. "We can no longer do anything from here. Let's trust that Kraven will act as he should and stop these intruders. We can only observe… and hope none of these rebels seeks to harm the aspirants."
Aurelius, at his side, nodded slightly.
"My brother is right," he said with a grave voice. "Meanwhile, let's observe and wait."
Rhygar crossed his arms, his crimson cape billowing with the wind.
"Very well," he murmured firmly.
Alistair, equally, assented with serenity.
"Yes… very well."
Silence returned to grip the box, only broken by the crowd's confused murmur, while imperial eyes remained fixed on the open portals.
In another corner of the Celestial Gardens…
In a house suspended among branches and living crystal platforms, the silence was as thick as the morning's humid air. Dim lights barely touched the white wood and polished metal furniture.
Before a holographic screen still active inside a home, a woman remained motionless, watching with a mixture of shock, dread, and fear what had just occurred.
Anya Bekkart.
Mother of Ian, Makia, and Aelius.
Alistair's wife.
Her honey-blonde hair fell elegantly over her shoulders. She wore a blue dress that trembled slightly from her body's tension. Her eyes, wide and clear, seemed to have stopped blinking since the moment she saw her husband thrown out of the portal… as if fate had returned him, but without explanation.
She held a cup between her hands.
A cup containing still-hot coffee.
And at that instant, seeing the screen display the last frozen image of Alistair sprawled on the platform, she closed her fingers forcefully. Too forcefully.
Crack.
The cup exploded in her hand with a dry sound, breaking between her fingers. The boiling coffee dripped between the fragments to the floor, staining the carpet with a dark trace, like a wound beginning to bleed.
But Anya didn't move. Didn't scream. Didn't cry.
She only watched.
Terrified thinking of her children.
She watched a future that shattered just like the cup in her hand.
Behind her, Alena slept deeply on a sofa, wrapped in a light blue blanket. Her soft breathing contrasted with the silent storm unleashed less than a meter away.
Anya didn't wake her.
She said no word.
But on her face was drawn what no transmission could explain:
A mother knew… that something terrible had just begun.