Ivan
The lights flared on, slowly revealing a raised platform at the front of the hall. Sturdy, elevated above the heads of the standing candidates, almost as if it were floating.
Behind the glowing curtain of light, the heavy thud of footsteps echoed— Footsteps of a large man, bald head gleaming under the harsh light, with a wide scar slashing across his left cheek down to his jaw, like a silent testament to countless battles.
He wore a long, sleeveless black coat, exposing thick arms and a tightly muscled chest.
A torso that looked carved from stone.
His muscles stood out with clarity, and his stance spoke of unshakable strength, as if he were forged from steel.
He approached the microphone, eyes steady as they scanned the room. Then, with a deep, rough voice. laced with both mockery and menace—he said: "Well, look what we have here... a big batch of little punks, all wrapped in dreams soaked in arrogance.
You're bold, no doubt about that. Bold enough to show up here and think you're fit to join the Ritters.
Alright then... let's see if that courage stays standing by the end of the day. here, no one gives a damn about your dreams. Here, we break them, just to see who's still standing once they're shattered."
He continued, with terrifying confidence and a smirk sharpened like a blade, as though every word were being crushed between his teeth: "my name is Stone. I'm the supervisor for this test.
Hope you like my face... who knows? It might just be the last adult face you ever see once this exam begins."
Some of the candidates exchanged glances, unease flickering in their eyes. no one had expected such a brutal start.
Some frowned. Some whispered nervously. Others tried to look unfazed. But the shock was real.
It wasn't a motivational speech— It was a deliberate blow, aimed straight at their pride.
Ivan noticed the subtle tremors on the faces around him. The scene was as fascinating as it was enjoyable. His gaze briefly drifted toward the girl with number 47 on her back, Then shifted toward one of the boys who was clearly uncomfortable.
He muttered inwardly, his tone laced with dry mockery: "Seems like nobles are easy to rattle with just a few insulting words... one jab at their inherited pride, and the cracks start showing.
Maybe this is part of the test, too. Who knows?
a trial of patience, endurance... or maybe just a way to spot those who've never been treated like ordinary people."
A faint, sarcastic smile crept to his lips, before he turned his attention back to the stage— Where Stone stood like an unyielding wall, preparing them for a trial the weak wouldn't survive.
Stone continued speaking: "Before I explain the path of the test, let me remind you of the Riters' exam policy.
Your life will be at risk with every step, every decision, every breath. we are not responsible for anyone.
Your life and your death are entirely your own.
By choosing to take this test, you've implicitly and explicitly accepted that.
Once you set foot on the first phase, your blood is free to fate, to the hunger of beasts, and to the stupidity of your own choices.
Do you understand? There is no turning back now. You now own your fate… survive, or be erased from existence."
Stone's words struck with the weight of an invisible bullet, crushing the resolve of some like a well-aimed blow to the soul.
Fear seeped in like a cold draft, crawling up the spines of the boys and girls. Some shivered unconsciously. Others dropped their gaze to the ground, Doubt slithering into their thoughts.
But there were those who remained still, With cold eyes and sharp gazes, like stone beneath the rain. but their stance alone was enough to say everything To them.
Stone went on, his gravelly voice thick with cruel delight— he scattered his words like a whip, enjoying their sting. His harsh brown eyes scanned each face, one by one, as though his gaze could strip away their facades.
Years of training recruits at the academy had honed his eye into a blade.
He could tell Who would crack, Who would hesitate, Who would run the moment real pressure hit.
And right now, he could bet, without hesitation, That several of them would be heading for the exit within the next few minutes.
"The second matter... concerns our young nobles who've honored us with their presence.
Surely, you pampered little devils already know that joining the Riters requires you to give up your family name. here in the Riters, there is no place for titles, no room for surnames.
He paused briefly, then continued : "In the Riters, everyone stands in a single line… We use first names only. The only thing that sets anyone apart here is the rank they earned with their sweat, their blood, their effort.
So ask yourselves: are you ready to let go of your status? Are you ready to start from nothing? To build a new name for yourself—not one inherited from those who bore you?"
Ivan exhaled deeply, as if releasing a long-stifled boredom pressing against his chest.
He hadn't expected things to go smoothly from the start, but neither had he imagined such a drawn-out, fear-laced introduction.
It was clear now, some of the boys were already cracking from within. the walls of confidence they carried in with them were silently crumbling. faces that had once looked composed now shrank with unease.
Eyes that once held steady now flickered away from Stone's gaze, as if afraid their weakness might be seen.
Ivan shook his head in boredom, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if searching for something to entertain him. then, with a sarcastic murmur only he could hear, he muttered: "What's the point of all this? What's the purpose of this theater?
At this rate, if that bald guy keeps talking, everyone's going to leave... and I'll be the only one left for the trial. That would be more boring than terrifying."
He exhaled briefly and added inwardly, glancing at Stone from the corner of his eye: "What was his name again? Ron? Or was it John?""
A massive screen lit up behind the stage, drawing everyone's attention as a map appeared—depicting a path running through various terrains: a dense forest, a rocky valley.
Once the image settled, Stone resumed speaking with a firm tone laced with threat: "Now that I've clarified the basics, it's time to talk about the real test. The test that will decide who among you deserves the Riters... and who belongs with the corpses."
He pointed to the screen and stepped forward as if preparing to deliver a death sentence: "As you can see, there's a two-kilometer path. Your goal is simple: reach the end in under thirty minutes. Sounds easy, doesn't it?"
A sly smile curled his lips, then he added, in a deeper voice: "That's because I haven't told you the rest yet."
He paused, savoring the unease in their expressions, then continued: "The course is divided into three segments. Between each segment is a rest station… stocked with whatever supplies you might need. You can also quit there, if you wish."
Along the path, you'll encounter surprises beneath your feet. So tread carefully."
"The executioners won't hesitate to rip your lives away before death can even try. Beasts, natural phenomena, and all sorts of horrors await you on this very short path."
Stone took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment. His voice wasn't loud this time, but calm—laden with a heavy, challenging tone, as though his words themselves were another test: "Now, after all you've heard... you still have the option to leave."
"Yes, the door is still open. If you don't think you can go on, if you can't endure, can't survive— leave now, without hesitation. There's no shame in knowing your limits. The shame is dying like a fool while pretending to be brave."
"Ask yourself honestly: can you make it? Do you have what it takes?
Because what awaits you isn't just a test… it's a sharp sieve. Only those made of something more than flesh and bone will pass through."
A heavy silence spread beneath the scattered beams of light that barely resisted the darkness pressing in from all sides. Souls were frozen in place, as if every breath had been trapped in their chests, silently waiting for someone to admit that the fear was too much to bear.
Eyes watched. Hearts trembled. Feet stood paralyzed between the urge to stay and the instinct to flee.
Ivan turned his gaze toward one of the boys ahead of him, noticing a faint tremble in the boy's shoulders... then that decisive movement—he began to walk slowly toward the door.
He left. Then another. And another. The withdrawal wasn't loud, but quiet, like fleeing a doomed fate.
"I don't blame them…" Ivan thought to himself, watching them with his blue eyes.
"After everything that man said, it's only natural for doubt to creep into their hearts. Even I'm starting to feel a bit of tension."
The ones who quit left, and the lights in their vacated spots dimmed. The digital screen now clearly displayed that only 79 participants remained out of 100.
Suddenly, the lights of the entire hall flared to life, chasing away the last remnants of darkness that had cloaked the walls, ceiling, and stage—revealing everything with harsh clarity.
"Only now… can I welcome you," said Stone, then gestured toward a massive door that opened on the hall's left side.
"Go on. Everyone, head through that door."
Everyone moved forward without haste, their steps steady. Their eyes struggled against the overwhelming brightness, a light that had suddenly flooded the place, as if testing the eyes of those who had grown used to the shadows.