The sun beat down relentlessly as the test entered its third day. Already, students were wilting under the pressure. Sweat, hunger, and fatigue gnawed at them as the jungle closed in, the sea breeze offering no relief. Tempers flared, and whispers of surrender drifted among the weaker groups.
But for me, it was not just a survival test. It was a battlefield of shadows.
And finally, the game pieces were beginning to move.
Ryuen Kakeru's laughter still echoed in my memory from the night before. I knew he would never accept playing by the school's rules — he was carving out his own.
By midmorning, the rumor spread like wildfire: Class A had suddenly acquired an abundance of supplies. Tents, cooking equipment, extra fire starters, even rations. Enough to keep them comfortable long beyond what they should have been able to afford.
It didn't take long for the truth to surface. Ryuen had struck a deal with Katsuragi Kohei of Class A.
That afternoon, under the swaying canopy of palm trees, the two men had faced each other like warlords dividing spoils.
"Two hundred points," Ryuen drawled, tossing a bundle of equipment at Katsuragi's feet. "Tents, gear, spare rations. Yours to use."
Katsuragi's sharp gaze didn't soften. "And the price?"
Ryuen's grin was feral. "From now until graduation, every month, Class A pays me the equivalent of those 200 survival points in private points. Consider it rent for your little throne."
Silence stretched like a blade between them. Class A's students shifted nervously behind Katsuragi, but none dared intervene. Finally, Katsuragi inclined his head.
"Fine. We accept."
The contract was sealed. Class A gained short-term dominance; Class C gained long-term profit. Even in failure, Ryuen's class would bleed them dry.
Hirata muttered in disbelief when the news reached us. "That's insane… how can Ryuen think that far ahead?"
Horikita only folded her arms. "It's not surprising. He's ruthless enough to sacrifice the present if it secures the future."
I said nothing. Because I knew the truth: Ryuen wasn't just planning for points. He was planning for information.
The very next morning, the island shifted.
Dozens of Class C students began withdrawing from the test. Some claimed sickness, others staggered with feigned exhaustion, a few vanished without explanation, escorted back to the teachers' camp. By midday, their numbers had dwindled to less than half.
The jungle buzzed with speculation.
"Did Class C give up?""They'll finish last place like this!""Are they insane?"
But I knew better.
Ryuen wasn't retreating. He was camouflaging.
By shrinking his class, he shed liabilities — fewer mouths to feed, fewer bodies to hide. Those who remained were his chosen hunters: spies slipping into Class B's cheerful campfires, skulking near Class D's tents, watching from the undergrowth. They were searching for one thing: the leaders.
If they guessed right, fifty points would bleed away from their prey.
That evening, as the fire crackled low, I gathered my group by the riverbank. Nine faces flickered in the light — weary but determined.
"We can't assume privacy anymore," I said. "From now on, speak as if someone's always listening. Never mention me as leader. If asked, deny knowledge. Spread confusion."
Akito smirked, resting his bow across his knees. "Misdirection, huh? I can handle that."
Yukimura adjusted his glasses, his voice measured. "As long as we're consistent, their spies won't get proof."
Even Airi nodded, clutching her camera tightly. She was timid, trembling still — but beneath it, I saw a spark of courage.
Good. My shadow network was strengthening.
The next morning, we divided into our scouting teams:
Team 1: Myself, Yukimura, and Airi.
Team 2: Akito, Haruka, and Kyosuke.
Team 3: Wataru, Mei, and An.
The forest became our map. Day after day we trekked through cliffs, streams, and tangled roots, marking every path. By the fifth day, we had quietly secured six unclaimed spots. No fanfare. No announcements. Just steady, invisible progress.
And in the shadows, Ryuen's eyes followed.
On the fourth day, Horikita Suzune announced she would scout the other classes. "If we remain ignorant, we're finished," she told Hirata.
Ayanokoji followed her in silence, his face as unreadable as the sea.
Their first stop was Class B.
The difference was stark. Where other classes struggled, Class B thrived. Their camp buzzed with laughter and chatter, pots bubbling over fires, students working in harmony. At the center was Honami Ichinose, radiant despite the sweat on her brow.
"Horikita-san! Ayanokoji-kun! You're welcome here anytime," she greeted, pressing water into their hands. Her smile was genuine warmth — and also a shield.
"You're generous for a competition," Horikita said bluntly.
Ichinose's smile only widened. "It's more fun if everyone's safe. Besides, we'll win with teamwork anyway."
Most would be disarmed. Not Ayanokoji. His eyes drifted past her to the edge of the camp, where a quiet, forgettable girl sat apart: Chihiro Shiranami. Easily overlooked. Which was why she was their leader.
Next came Class A.
Their camp was rigid, militaristic. Students obeyed orders sharply, moving supplies with precision. Katsuragi himself confronted them.
"What do you seek here?" His voice was cold steel.
"Observation," Horikita replied. "You've prepared well."
Katsuragi didn't flinch. "Of course. Unlike you amateurs, we understand discipline." His gaze slid to Ayanokoji, as if testing him.
Neither Horikita nor Ayanokoji pressed further, but I knew the truth. Their supposed leader wasn't Katsuragi at all — it was Yahiko Totsuka, a pawn shielding the faction's core. A decoy.
Finally, they stumbled upon Class C.
Unlike the others, Class C's camp looked abandoned. A handful of students loitered, feigning laziness. Ryuen himself leaned against a tree, a predator at rest.
"Well, well. The little mice come to play."
Horikita bristled. "What are you planning, Ryuen?"
"Planning? Me?" He laughed, sharp and cruel. "Just enjoying the view. But don't worry — I'll be seeing you again."
And with that, he vanished into the jungle, his grin lingering like a knife's edge.
I could picture it all, even while I trekked elsewhere with my team. Canon played out, but in the shadows, my own story was unfolding.
By the fifth day, Ryuen's net tightened.
Twice, Akito reported being shadowed by strangers. Once, Wataru caught a figure slipping into the undergrowth. Mei swore she spotted a girl crouched in the brush, watching them too long.
Ryuen's hunters were circling.
But instead of panicking, I saw opportunity.
That night, by the fire, I spoke just loud enough for the jungle to hear.
"I heard Horikita volunteered to be our leader," I said to Yukimura, keeping my tone casual. "No one would suspect her."
Yukimura blinked, then caught my glance. He nodded slowly, playing along. "Makes sense. She's always the one in charge."
The spies melted into the dark, satisfied with the false lead.
Let Ryuen chase ghosts.
Meanwhile, our camp grew closer with each weary night. Haruka joked constantly, poking fun at Akito until his ears burned red. Mei and An whispered stories of home. Yukimura even laughed once or twice.
And Airi…
Airi sat closer to me now, her camera always at her side. Her timid whispers carried new steel. One evening she confessed, voice trembling: "If I can make myself useful, maybe I'll stop holding everyone back…"
"You're already useful," I told her.
Her face flushed crimson, her hands fumbling with the lens. Yukimura coughed awkwardly beside us, pretending not to notice.
We weren't just classmates anymore. We were comrades.
A strength Horikita's brittle discipline and Hirata's shallow harmony could never replicate.
By the sixth day, the island's shadow war had clarified.
Class A sat high on Ryuen's handouts, their camp orderly and flush with gear. But their leader, Yahiko Totsuka, was a flimsy shield. One guess, and their empire would crumble.
Class B thrived on Ichinose's charisma, cheerful and united. But their leader, Chihiro Shiranami, was too obvious in her invisibility. Sooner or later, someone would notice.
Class C looked shattered, half their students withdrawn. Yet in truth, Ryuen prowled the jungle with hunters in his service, his arrogance matched only by his cunning. He was their leader — too greedy, too confident to entrust it elsewhere.
Class D stumbled publicly, disorganized and chaotic. Yet in secret, we had secured six extra zones, fed lies to the spies, and grown stronger in silence.
As the fire flickered low that night, my group's laughter echoed softly. Airi showed her photos of trails and landmarks, Haruka teased Wataru until he chased her, Yukimura argued strategy with Akito, Mei and An huddled together whispering.
They trusted me. Followed me. And never suspected the full scope of what I knew.
I gazed at the stars above, the waves lapping against the shore.
The midpoint had passed. Soon, the exam would enter its final act — when leaders would be unmasked, and victory stolen with a single correct guess.
In the jungle's depths, Ryuen laughed. Elsewhere, Ichinose rallied her class. Katsuragi drilled his. Horikita schemed with Ayanokoji.
And I sharpened my blade of shadows, waiting for the moment to strike.