The hearty meal sat in my stomach, a warm weight. Now, my mind turned cold, dissecting the price I'd paid for it.
'Two lives. I took two lives in as many minutes to save my own skin. Korus looked up to me like a brother, a hero. In the end, I was neither. I don't even know the name of the girl I sacrificed. Her hair was just a handle.'
'Do I justify it? Say the circumstances were bad? Blame another life? Use any lame excuse to cope? No. Fucking no.'
'I hate justification. People use it to avoid looking like monsters. But I am true to myself. As a beggar, in these trials, even when I pushed my father to his death… I never needed excuses. I recognize my true nature. It's crystal clear: in the face of danger, I will always save myself. If there's a chance to save others without risk, I might consider it. But my life comes first. So what if people call me a monster? A cold-hearted bastard? Let them. I do as my heart desires.'
Ashan's self-understanding was absolute, a cold comfort.
He scanned the other children at his table. Three boys to his right, three girls to his left. The basket between them still held scraps. The others were finishing their meals.
The boys:
A broad-shouldered, black-haired boy with olive skin—the one who'd stolen the seat from the frail child. He ate aggressively, like a starved dog.
A boy with striking blue eyes and chestnut hair, pale-skinned. He was already done, sitting quietly.
A light-brown-haired boy with matching eyes, still eating heartily.
The girls:
A petite, short girl with ashy blonde hair and yellow eyes, eating slowly.
A girl with dark brown hair and eyes, finished with her meal.
A girl with green hair, green eyes, and snow-white skin, still eating.
The soundtrack to their feast was the relentless crunch and tear of wolves finishing their own meal elsewhere in the hall.
'Funny. In the face of death, you don't need a common language to understand screaming. These kids from different regions cooperated or betrayed each other with perfect clarity.'
Ashan's eyes found Korus's corpse. 'There he is.' The boy's face was frozen in bewildered betrayal. Both arms and his lower torso were gone.
Sigh. Ashan took a long breath. 'Let's just hope he doesn't come back as a vengeful spirit.'
The desperate cries for help had faded. Only the wet sounds of the wolves' feast remained.
"Splendid!" The cold voice echoed. "Out of 699 candidates, only 349 perished. 350 have survived the second trial and are now eligible for the third and final trial!"
A wave of dread passed through the children.
'350 left. In less than an hour, they culled 650 kids. Madness. And who the fuck said a reincarnated life was easy? Life is never easy.' Ashan felt the deep weariness in his own bones. He was battered, mentally and physically. He saw the same exhaustion in every face around him.
"Before the final trial begins, you have earned a revelation." The voice held a thread of excitement.
The darkness at the front of the hall began to shimmer. A low rumble built as the shadows dissolved, revealing an elevated platform.
The air turned icy. An unseen pressure forced every child to bow their heads, unable to look up.
Now fully illuminated, the hall was vast. The wolves, their work done, slunk away from the carnage and disappeared through the entrance the children had used.
Ashan saw the space clearly: scattered wooden huts and structures. But that wasn't what shocked him.
'Who are these animal-masked freaks? A deranged masquerade?'
Dozens of people stood watching, their faces hidden behind intricate masks: Serpent, Rat, Fox, Goat, Spider, Wolf, Bear, Snail, Owl, Leech, Tiger, Bull, Peacock, Lion. They wore asymmetrical, layered cloaks in deep, vibrant colors.
The central figure, wearing a purple owl mask and a purple cloak draped over one shoulder, spoke. His voice was a chilling incentive.
"You are the miserable dregs of society. Wretched orphans, slaves, and beggars. What has your life earned you? Curses, drudgery, and scraps. Don't you wish to break this cycle of weakness? To grasp true power and become masters of your own fate?"
A solemn silence fell over the children. His words struck a chord, awakening a deep, buried resentment.
"Here, you will harness your talent. You will learn a power to transcend humanity. You will begin your Sadhana, and walk the path of the Sadhaka!" the Owl-Mask declared.
'Sadhana? Sadhaka?' Ashan's mind raced. 'An evil organization kidnapping society's dregs... why? Experiments? Brainwashed soldiers? But why not recruit experienced mercenaries? Unless... they want loyalty forged from childhood. They're building an army from the ground up. But for what?'
His speculation was cut short.
"Seeing is believing." The Owl-Mask raised his right hand and clenched empty air.
A moment later, the wolves that had fled came flying back, yelping in terror. They were dragged through the air above the children's heads, writhing helplessly before the platform.
The predators had become prey.
'What the hell? This violates every law of physics I know.' Ashan stared, his understanding of reality crumbling.
"This is the power I speak of. The power to kill." The Owl-Mask clenched his fist.
The wolves dropped to the ground, dead. All of them. Simultaneously.
As Ashan watched the lifeless bodies fall, something primal stirred within his soul. A hunger, deeper than any he'd felt for food.
'I want that power. Why? To live. To live longer than anyone. To achieve immortality. If I can't outshine them, I will outlive them all.'
His eyes stirred, faint grayish-white ripples flickering within them for a single, fleeting instant.