Dear Apex,
I just came back from Zefar's place. I know you probably hate how close I had gotten to him.
Don't worry, I hadn't forgotten my mission. He would surely die by my hands.
The corridors of Babel were quiet, but the air tasted of steel and smoke. I could feel the cold stone floor beneath my feet. Every shadow felt like it was waiting for me to slip.
When I entered my room, Naya was there. This had become a normal occurrence. She barged in like she owned the place. Technically, she did.
She glared at me, arms crossed, eyes sharp, face pale under the pale light.
"You don't have to do this," she said.
I stopped. My hands twitched near the daggers. "I do."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You'll die. A thousand Summoned out there, and… Zefar isn't just testing you. He's trying to get you killed. I know True Slayers don't fear death, but don't throw your life away."
"I won't," I said softly. I didn't move closer. Didn't dare.
Her voice dropped. "I'm not just worried. I hate this. I hate watching you become like them."
I looked at her then, really looked. Every second counted. She was my only friend, my kind healer.
She had treated every injury I had ever gotten from training. She never worried about anyone—not even Zefar when he went to war.
Yet here she was, trembling at the thought of losing me in a test.
"I'm not going because I want to fight," I said. My words were quiet but firm. "I'm going because I have to leave Babel today.
I promised them. My people… my mothers, my friends… they probably think I'm dead. I had been trapped here for long enough.
I also had a cousin—Yuda's child. Aunt Geni's kid. We had promised, when we were nine, that we would spend our twentieth birthday together.
Today… I had to keep that promise."
Her eyes widened. "You could die. Your actions would be in vain. Why walk into a slaughterhouse willingly?"
I stepped closer. My hands rose, fingers brushing hers, the warmth of her presence grounding me. "I care about you. That's why I'm telling you.
I'm not running blind. I know every risk. But I can't let a thousand blades keep me from my family. From my word. From the people who've been waiting for me while I trained to survive a life they would never understand."
Her breath caught. "I… I just…"
"Don't beg me to stay," I said. "I'm not a child anymore. I can't hide in shadows forever. Today, I prove I can stand in the light and still survive. And you… you need to let me."
She looked away, a flicker of tears threatening to escape. "Just… come back. Alive."
"I will," I promised.
Hunter was waiting at the edge of the training courtyard. His sniper rested in his hands, eyes scanning the horizon with that quiet weight he carried like a shadow over everything.
"You know what's going to happen today?" he asked. "Zefar ordered I shoot you on sight.
If I kill you, don't take it personal. Stay out of my line of sight. Once I spot you, I will have to…"
"You don't have to worry about me," I said.
He shook his head, voice low. "One shot is all it takes. You die before you even blink.
I don't like it. I can't like it. But Zefar commands, and I obey."
"I won't give you the choice," I promised.
Hunter didn't answer, only nodded once. Quiet approval. Respectful, reluctant.
The first wave hit as soon as I stepped out.
Daggers flashed in the dim morning light. Hundreds of them. Every Summoned who wielded daggers—hundreds—dressed like Killerwhere.
Same mask. Same stance. Same gait. My mind screamed at me to spot the real one, to focus.
But I couldn't. Couldn't afford a mistake.
I rolled, slipped between blades, ducked under spears, deflected arrows. Every strike that missed me drew a thread of blood across stone. Pain became rhythm. Fear became fuel.
Hunter's bullets whistled above me, careful, precise. Every near miss was a warning. "Move!"
Every close call was just a warning shot.
I wasn't allowed to use the darkness, but I had my body, my daggers, and my will.
Every step forward was calculated. Every breath measured.
The streets of Adreya twisted around me. Blademasters and spearmen tried to corner me.
Archers rained death from balconies. Trappers sprung nets and traps like living spiders.
And through it all… I felt him. The real Killerwhere. Patient. Calm. Watching. Waiting. The copies were distractions, but he was the strike I couldn't afford to miss.
I had to see him coming without looking.
Every glance was a risk. Every hesitation, death.
Naya's voice echoed in my mind again. "Please, Oma. You don't have to do this. You could leave tomorrow. You could—"
"No," I snapped, not harshly, but firmly. "If I didn't do this today, I'd never leave Babel.
I'm sorry, Naya, but my cousin was out there waiting. I couldn't let fear stop me from deciding their lives for me."
Her silence followed. She understood, even if she hated it.
I pressed forward. Every Summoned I passed, I avoided direct strikes. Couldn't kill. Couldn't leave evidence. Only survive. Only move.
Hunter's eyes followed me from the skyline. Another shot grazed the wall nearby. He hated it as much as I did, but he obeyed. Zefar's command was absolute.
Daggers cut near me. Spears jabbed. Blades slashed. Each attack tested muscle, reflex, calculation. Pain and adrenaline stitched together into a single thread of purpose.
And then… I saw him. The real Killerwhere. Waiting, silent, calculating. I didn't hesitate as he lunged at me. I threw one dagger not aiming for him. It was merely a distraction.
Before he could catch me, I reached a bridge and jumped into the river.
He had no reason to pursue me now. I came out of the water and entered the woods closest to the Castle.
Of course, Slayers were there too. I passed through them, spinning, rolling, evading, and constantly in motion.
The hills became a frenzy as a hundred Slayers chased after me. I was really outnumbered.
A thousand blades, a thousand eyes, a thousand hearts beating in unison against me.
I felt Hunter above, waiting. I felt the daggers below, stalking.
But I still kept going. I finally entered the castle gates. Every roll, every step, every slash with my daggers counted.
Every Summoned I evaded was a step closer to my goal: the throne room.
I thought of Yuda's child, waiting, counting the days. I thought of Aunt Geni, smiling for a boy who had promised to honor her daughter's transition into adulthood. We were twenty that day.
I couldn't let anyone stop me now. Nothing, no army, no test, no command, would stand between me and freedom.
Pain flared across my arms, my back, my legs. A spear grazed my shoulder. A blade nicked my thigh. Every wound bled, every scar became a dangerous step forward.
And then… the final archways appeared. Zefar's throne, towering above, cold and immovable. I could see him, calm, waiting.
I didn't kneel. Didn't bow. Didn't stop.
I stepped forward, every ounce of pain, every shred of focus, every beat of my heart carrying me into the light.
I was alive. Bloodied, bruised, exhausted—but alive.
Zefar's voice cut through the chaos. Calm. Observing. "You didn't use your shadows. How on earth did you survive?"
I didn't respond. Didn't need to. My eyes had already scanned the streets, checked the archways, counted the blades I had dodged.
I shocked the King of Slayers. In fact, I surprised everyone. Not because I had made it, but because I hadn't hurt anyone on the way.
I was leaving that day. Not because the test allowed it. Because I had survived it.
Because I had promised.
Because I would keep my word, no matter how many Summoned or True Slayers stood in my way.
And I would see them. My family. My people. My cousin. My promise.