Maïli's gaze briefly met the princess's heavy, burdened then Zem's, whose worry showed in every line of his face.
Facing them, the heroes were encircled by a dozen half-wolf children, filthy, dressed in rags, yet armed with small swords. In their eyes burned the fear mixed with the rage of those who have nothing left to lose.
Suddenly, without warning, the children hurled themselves at them, brandishing their blades with the desperate energy of the doomed.
From atop the dais, Moïse wore a broad smile, savoring every second of the chaos he had unleashed.
"You see, we told them that if they killed you, they would be free along with their families. Isn't that a marvelous motivation?" he said with false amiability, his gaze glittering with sadism.
The other instructors remained impassive, except for Father Jean, whose sickly smile betrayed a sincere delight at the suffering. The King, seated comfortably, nodded, satisfied with the trial organized by his advisor. Raphaël, for his part, missed nothing, eyes fixed on Maïli.
A first attack grazed her: a thin scratch tracing a drop of blood along her cheek. Blows rained down, but the young woman dodged, jaw clenched.
"You really think we'll submit to this kind of monstrosity?" she shouted toward Moïse.
"I think they won't give you a choice besides, they hail from a warrior tribe," Moïse replied, folding his arms.
"And… where are my manners? Here is the rule of the trial: each of you must kill one of these young children. If you do, then for some of you it's a guarantee of being named heroes of Sigma rewards, prestige, a dream life. All you need is to kill, and everything will be yours."
"So it's that simple, huh?" Shawn shot back, a hard gleam in his eyes.
"Just that simple," Moïse confirmed.
"Don't even think about it, Shawn!" Maïli screamed, still evading the child's assaults.
But Shawn didn't care. To him, the path he wanted lay open, and all he had to do was something so simple. He crossed the chaos in a single lightning stride, seized a half-wolf boy by the throat, and lifted him one-handed without effort. Crushed by such strength, the child thrashed, eyes reddening from suffocation, his sword clattering to the ground.
"Shawn!" Maïli cried, helpless.
There was no hesitation in Shawn's gaze only a broad smile.
"This world offers us everything, Maïli. And all they ask is that we kill these things that aren't even human. We'll be praised, adored, rich. Between the monsters we've killed since we arrived and them, I see no difference."
With a brutal motion, he drove his sword into the boy's chest. The child's eyes filled with pain and incomprehension; a thread of blood slid from his lips. When life left his gaze, Shawn dropped the body like it was nothing, tossing it to the ground without a shred of remorse.
Time seemed to freeze; silence fell heavy for a breath. She stood petrified, staring at the lifeless body of that poor child.
Then a pure, searing hatred seized her. Hatred for one person alone:
"Shaaaawn!" she screamed, her voice charged with fury.
A shockwave erupted around Maïli, crimson flames bursting from her body like a raging storm. The air vibrated; the sky seemed to blaze for an instant. In a fraction of a second, she closed the distance to Shawn. Their swords crashed violently: Shawn's steel wavered under the impact, his hands breaking out in burns the instant they touched Maïli's weapon. He stumbled back, stunned, his face twisted by pain.
Maïli gave him no respite: with a blinding movement, she drove a titanic kick into his gut. Shawn flew like a rag doll, tumbling across the ground, breath knocked from him. He had barely tried to rise when Maïli, relentless, fell upon him like a fury. Her sword came down, ready to strike without the slightest hesitation.
But at the instant the blade would have fallen, Shawn vanished in a flash, brutally teleported to Moïse's side safe, but visibly shaken. Moïse, all smiles, watched with folded arms, enjoying the spectacle like a cruel puppeteer.
"Well now, that was quite an interesting show," he said, amused. "But it would be a pity to lose one of our brand-new heroes… Especially since the show isn't over yet."
Fury blazing in her eyes, Maïli screamed, consumed by rage: "Bastard!"
Without warning, an invisible force slammed into her. Her body was hurled backward, rolling several meters across the ground. She tasted blood in her mouth; her vision swam.
Moïse's voice cracked like a whip:
"Watch your tongue, girl. Everything has a price here."
Maïli spat blood, stunned by the blow she had felt and seen nothing and when she managed to lift her head again, she saw with horror Méverick, Maël, and Jay killing three more children: Méverick's fists were drenched as he beat a boy to death in a scene of atrocious barbarity; Jay neatly severed another's head; and Maël burned one of the children alive. He ran back and forth across the ground, flames devouring him as his screams echoed dying, burned alive.
"What a pleasant spectacle," the King declared, satisfied.
As the last dying screams faded and the boy's charred body crumpled to the ground in a morbid silence.
Around Emma, her group closed in, tension palpable. She trembled, ashen, unable to look away, her hand clenched around her weapon.
"Come on, Emma time for you to do your part," Jay pressed, his look heavy with unspoken pressure.
"But… I…" she stammered, throat tight.
Maël stepped closer, voice soft but eyes hard:
"Don't worry, Emma. We're a group; we've always been together. Trust us, like you always have."
Emma nodded, lost, gaze skittering away.
"But they're children… lives…"
Maël frowned, her tone turning colder, almost mechanical:
"Emma, look at them. They aren't humans. If they're not human, it's not murder. They're monsters like the ones we've cut down in training. Nothing more."
The girl hesitated but the group's pressure, their stares, the fear of being cast out were too strong.
"Stop thinking and do it!" Maël snapped, setting a heavy hand on her shoulder.
A cold shiver ran down Emma's spine.
In a strangled voice, almost in tears, she answered:
"Yes…"
In an automatic motion, she summoned lightning. A bolt crashed down onto one of the children, striking him dead on the spot. The small body fell, inert, with a sinister crack.
Emma staggered back, ghostly pale, repeating over and over, her voice shattered:
"Sorry… sorry… sorry… sorry…"
From the dais, Raphaël, all smiles, addressed his sister with a taunting voice:
"Oh, doesn't that bring back memories, dear sister?"
Sarah turned away, cloaking herself in glacial silence, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a reply.
For Maïli and her group, it had all happened too fast. Still in shock, they rushed to help her to her feet, while their eyes lingered on the ground littered with children's corpses. The horror of the scene pressed upon them all, an indelible memory searing their souls.
At that instant, Maël, Méverick, Jay, and Emma were suddenly teleported near Moïse, apart from the rest of the group as if the mere act of having done it separated them from the others for good.
The surviving children, frozen with terror and pain, stared at the bodies of their friends. In their eyes, sorrow soon flared into desperate rage: without thinking further, they hurled themselves at the remaining heroes, driven by despair and survival instinct.
Maïli reacted at once, turning to her companions:
"We'll knock them out! That way, we won't have to kill them," she ordered, voice determined but trembling.
In a coordinated movement, they struck the young assailants, measuring their force so as not to take a life, hoping only to render them unconscious. But nothing happened—none of the children fell. Their bodies seemed to ignore pain, rising again and again, driven by an inhuman will.
Moïse watched, arms crossed, an amused smile on his lips.
"As if I hadn't thought of that," he mocked.
His voice rang out, sinister, across the grounds:
"I used a skill on these children that forbids them from collapsing, sleeping, or losing consciousness. You cannot knock them out. Only death will stop their movement."
"Even if that's true, we won't harm them!"
The King, slightly disappointed, let out a sigh.
"Well, it seems the show is coming to an end. They'll never dare harm them…"
But Moïse shook his head, eyes gleaming with a sickly light.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty. It's not over yet."
Suddenly, a cry pierced the din.
"No! What's happening to me? M-my body is moving on its own!"
Beatrice, trembling, felt her limbs betray her. As if remote-controlled, she grabbed an arrow, set it to her bowstring, and slowly aimed at one of the children. Her face was nothing but terror and incomprehension.
"No! I don't want to… Stop… What's happening… No!" she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks as her arm drew taut against her will.
Her pleas changed nothing. Her fingers released the string: the arrow hissed through the air and buried itself brutally in a child's eye. Frozen by pain, he looked one last time at Béa before staggering and collapsing, stone dead.
Beatrice fell to the ground in incomprehension, broken, sobbing on her knees.
"Nooo!" she howled, her anguish joining the general horror that now reigned over the field.
The cruelty of the trial had shattered another soul and the circle of horror was only beginning. For Beatrice wasn't the only one suddenly afflicted: one by one, all remaining members of the group felt their bodies slip from their control losing command of every muscle, every motion, reduced to pathetic puppets.
On the field, the half-wolf children froze as well, victims of the same phenomenon.
In the stands, Zem clenched his fists so hard that blood ran. He boiled with rage at Moïse, who savored the scene with perverse pleasure.
Panicked, Éléonore cried for help:
"Maïli my body's moving on its own! Stop… please…"
One after another, they advanced slowly, prisoners of their own bodies, struggling in vain against the implacable grip. Faces drained, eyes wide with fear, they drew inexorably closer to the immobilized children.
Beth pleaded, voice broken, while her weapon hand trembled with horror:
"Mercy! No! Stop… I don't want to kill anyone…"
Marine, throat tight with terror, turned to Maïli, voice strangled:
"Maïli, do something, please!"
But she, too, had no hold over her limbs. Panic rose within her, devouring everything. The farther she advanced, the clearer it became what they were being forced to do the more disgust, shame, and fear overwhelmed her.
"No!" Karine screamed, just before her hand came down.
She drove her sword into a child's head. Blood burst forth, splattering her face. Suddenly freed from the grip, Karine collapsed to her knees, shattered, emptied by the shock of the act committed against her will.
The others followed, one by one, powerless some screaming, others weeping all begging for it to stop. But their blades fell, slicing, piercing, until only silence remained, broken by sobs and cries of distress.
"Aahhh!" Eva screamed as she severed a child's head.
Blood spouted like a geyser, splashing her face. She collapsed, retching uncontrollably, unable to look away from the severed head lying beside her.
From the dais, the king applauded, a cruel smile on his lips:
"Oh, Moïse, I could not have dreamed of a better spectacle."
Moïse bowed, savoring every instant of the orchestrated massacre.
The children wept some groaning in terror, others trying to plead, without finding words. Until the last moment, they remained children, condemned to an atrocious death, powerless witnesses to the madness of this world.
Éléonore, eyes vacant, burst into tears:
"I'm sorry… I don't know, but… my body won't obey me…"
The child before Éléonore also cried hot tears, snot running from his nose. Éléonore knew she could do nothing; her pathetic apologies were all she had left. When she raised her hand, an uncontrollable force lifted the child into the air. Razor-sharp gusts of wind began to tear into him. His terrible screams rang across the field as his arms and legs were ripped away, his little body sliced from all sides.
Broken, Éléonore whispered: "My God, forgive me…"
She stared, dazed, as the mutilated body crashed to the ground, the earth soaked with blood.
The entire group had passed through hell pleading for it to stop, crying, screaming, living the trauma of committing the irreparable against their will. Only one child remained: a little girl, sobbing, face contorted with fear, her trousers soiled. Facing her, Maïli advanced slowly, unable to stop her own steps, her arms raised against her will.
But unlike the others, the girl did not beg, did not scream. She tried to keep her head high, refusing to plead or cry in order not to give Moïse and the rest that pleasure.
Raphaël, fascinated, now watched only one person: Maïli. He drank in every flutter of her eyelids, every micro-expression of suffering excited by the young woman's distress. He murmured, savoring it:
"Incredible… Even at the brink of the irreparable, she doesn't beg, she doesn't break. She endures. What strength of character! Ah…"
At last, Maïli, throat tight, reached the little girl. She raised her sword, the tip at the child's small heart. The girl cast her a final, terrified look. In a broken voice, Maïli murmured:
"Forgive me…" she said, with a pained smile both tender and despairing.
With a slow, implacable motion, the blade sank into the little girl's chest. Her eyes widened; her breath grew shallow; a mute cry froze her features as the steel emerged from her back. Time seemed suspended: in the child's gaze, life flickered and went out.
Sarah turned away, unable to bear the sight, while Zem, trembling with rage, dug his nails into his palms until they bled. On the dais, the shamelessly perverse satisfaction of some was plain to see Raphaël foremost among them, relishing the spectacle with disturbing pleasure.
Maïli, unable to let the girl fall hard, caught her gently then laid her slowly on the ground.
Before closing the girl's eyelids with a trembling caress.
A single tear, heavy with meaning, rolled down her cheek before she stood up.
Moïse, satisfied, clapped his hands:
"Congratulations to all! And welcome to the last hero selected by the Kingdom of Sigma: Maïli!"
A glacial silence fell over the field. None of them answered or even lifted their heads: they were broken, marked forever by the trial. Only the applause from those on the dais echoed.
Maïli, upright despite the pain, wiped the tear from her cheek. Her gaze, now cold and laden with mute hatred, settled on the dais, fixing in turn on Moïse, the King, Raphaël… An immense anger seethed behind her dimmed eyes. In that instant, a silent oath was carved into her soul: one day, she would make them pay.