Part 1
Members of the organization passed between the groups to distribute the allocation cards. When it was our turn, a thin man with a closed face handed us a card.
- Zone 5. Floor -3. East ramp.
We nodded. Without a word.
Naël was the first to notice the detail that put the pressure on. A few meters away, above a metal door, a screen displayed a countdown: 15:00. Time was already running out.
- Fifteen minutes... he breathed. Don't dawdle.
In such a vast shopping center, with its escalators stopped, its corridors repainted, its exits modified for the event, you had to stay focused. Every detour could waste time. And who knows what they'd do to latecomers.
Groups were already dispersing. Some were almost running.
- There's a lot of us, there'll be a lot of heckling," said Naël, observing the crowd. It's better to wait a bit and go after them. If we start in the middle, we risk getting lost.
It was logical. He was right. This wasn't a race but a side event, and in this multi-storey labyrinth, rushing in meant offering yourself up as a target.
We waited a few minutes for the mass to settle, then walked briskly towards the nearest staircase, heading for the -3 floor, east ramp.
No sooner had we left the main landing than I saw him. A tattooed man.
He was leaning against a wall, alone, his head bowed, as if he were sleeping standing up. Except that when he saw us, he moved.
He must have been in his thirties, maybe a little younger. Clean-cut, muscular, with a shaved head. His skin was covered with black tattoos, concentrated on his arms, neck and part of his face. Geometric symbols, grimacing faces, chains that seemed to wind up to his wrists. He wore a long, worn military coat.
He stood just in front of an intersection of corridors, motionless. As if on guard.
- He's blocking the way, watch out," Naël gasped. There must be others who've taken advantage of the ruckus to eliminate some of the participants.
- We'll have to go that way anyway," replied Persival, shrugging his shoulders.
I agreed, but one detail bothered me. It looked like he was waiting. People, or a signal.
We approached a few meters away. He slowly raised his head.
- Zone 5, you too? he said in a stony voice.
He spoke slowly, with a strange accent that was hard to decipher. And he was smiling...
Naël frowned.
- Is this a test? Are you with the organization? Or are there two other guys lurking to take us by surprise?
No sooner had he finished his sentence than he motioned for us to be on our guard. His tone was calm, but you could tell he was already weighing up our options.
The man gave a short, dry laugh, without answering. Then he spread his arms to show the corridor behind him.
- Go ahead. I was just watching the entrance. You're the last ones in your sector.
I hesitated. He was too comfortable. And his hands weren't empty: in the right sleeve of his coat, you could clearly make out a dark wooden handle. Perhaps not a weapon, but it was something to look out for.
Persival, usually calm, stared straight into his eyes. He was no longer trying to be polite. Just ready to strike.
- If you try to trick us, we'll fuck you up," he said.
The tattooed man shrugged.
- If I'd tried to trick you, you'd already be on the ground.
There was a brief silence. Then Persival stepped forward, torso erect, and passed by him without slowing down. I followed, taking one last look at the man's right arm. Nael stayed behind for a few seconds, wary, but eventually moved forward in his turn.
The man turned his head slightly and winked at him.
- Good luck, kids.
It was almost sincere. For half a second, I thought he was just weird, not dangerous. I even turned to thank him.
That's when he pulled a knife from his sleeve and tried to stab Nael in the back.
I didn't even have time to scream.
Naël swung round and immediately countered with an oblique kick to the knee. The man half collapsed to his knees and received a right hook to the face before he could even lift his head.
- Watch out in front!" shouted Naël. They don't want to surprise us from behind... but from the front, taking advantage of the darkness.
He was right. A sound of hurried footsteps could be heard in the shadows of the corridor below. Others were approaching. Camouflaged by the silence, they waited for us to pass before coming at us from the rear.
Two figures emerged from the shadows without a word. One wore tight braids and a military-green headband around his forehead. The other, with short hair, wore an armband of the same color. Both looked young, but clearly trained. They'd come to win, or worse: to make someone else win.
They weren't looking for an argument.
The first attacked Nael with a knee to the front, but Persival was just in time to block. The other came at me fast, with gloved hands and precise movements. I stepped back reflexively, but a movement in the angle of my vision swung me around: the tattooed man on the ground was already getting up. Stunned, but still dangerous.
Naël reacted immediately. He grabbed the tattooed man's leg and sent him to the ground with a single leg. As he fell, the man's coat lifted slightly, revealing his wrist. A bracelet was attached. I immediately recognized one of the symbols Yuna had shown me: it was that of air.
I didn't hesitate. I activated an aether pulse, stable enough to trigger my foresight. I dodged an attack, slipped under a blow, then struck my assailant's skull with the flat of my foot. Before he could regain his balance, I grabbed him by the waist and executed a clean suplex against the floor. He collapsed, inert.
By his side, Persival was doing well. He parried, dodged and counter-attacked with precision, using the narrowness of the corridor to limit his opponent's movements. The braided one was fast, but not fast enough to surprise him.
I turned around. Nael was still hitting the tattooed man, relentlessly. But in the heat of the action, thanks to my foresight, I noticed an abnormal gesture: the bald man had slipped his arms to hold his head, as if looking for a specific point of contact.
- Nael, move!" I shouted.
But it was too late.
The bracelet activated. No light, no visible breath. Yet Nael suddenly collapsed. His ears were bleeding. I'd guessed from the bracelet's symbol: wave power. It was invisible, stealthy and dangerous.
The guy staggered to his feet, pulled another knife from his sleeve and threw it. Thanks to my foresight, I saw the trajectory before he even moved. The knife wasn't coming at me. It was heading straight for Persival at high speed, no doubt propelled by a shockwave.
I threw myself at Persival, tackling him to the ground. He knew what I'd done when the blade flew over us, cutting the braided boy's throat cleanly. His body toppled backwards, inert, without a cry.
But the bald man didn't stop there. He ran straight towards us, arms outstretched, hands open. He needed contact to unleash his power. This time, I wouldn't hesitate.
I channeled the aether giving me the shape of a gold-black electrical energy, the one I'd stolen... Anyathel's. My throat tightened.
I struck with all my might. He crossed his arms to take the blow, in close-combat stance. On impact, the air vibrated. A shockwave appeared in the atmosphere, distorted by the electric arcs. It tore right through him, sending him tumbling several meters away. He fell back, arms still contracted, muscles tetanized. KO.
As for me, the electricity had shot up my arms like a flashback. I couldn't feel my hands. But I'd managed to channel the aether, just enough for the lightning to disperse elsewhere, without frying me from the inside.
- There's no time," said Persival, still on the ground. We've got to hurry!
I glanced at the screen on the wall one floor up. There were less than five minutes left.
- We have to run now. Take Nael on your back.
He nodded. Without argument, he loaded Nael like a sandbag and off we went, running through the narrow corridors. Two bends later, the light changed. A ramp led down to a larger space.
Behind us, none of the three assailants could keep up. One was unconscious, his head against a beam. The other, on his knees in a daze, had no strength left to get up. The last... probably dead. They wouldn't be taking part.
Rounding the final bend, the Zone 5 room finally came into view. The aggressive white lighting, the groups already assembled, the tense atmosphere, and in the background, the giant screen displaying only one minute left.
We accelerated again.
Part 2
As we approached, I spotted the other groups in the same area.
What they called "zone 5" was nothing more than a former large commercial sign, abandoned for years and recently refurbished for the event.
The faded logo of a former sports store still stood on the dilapidated facade.
Inside, everything had been reinforced, shielded and compartmentalized.
Panels of reinforced glass replaced the old shop windows. The pillars were covered with metal plates, and a giant screen sat at the front, displaying a one-minute countdown.
The place was huge, like an open warehouse, just an empty space.
As we approached, I spotted eight groups of people.
Some were armed: studded baseball bats, iron bars, thick wooden handles. Three guys, the ones with the wooden katanas I'd seen before, stood straight as statues, holding dark wooden swordman-like swords in both hands.
Others had blank stares, almost trained to kill. Others looked ill-prepared, but calm. One could sense their experience of events of this kind.
Another group, on the other hand, was laughing loudly and clapping their hands. One of them was holding a half-empty bottle of alcohol. You could smell the alcohol from here. They were euphoric. As if they were celebrating a birthday.
And then... there was this duo. Two youngsters covered in dry blood, one with his foot hastily bandaged by the fabric of his pants. Their faces were closed, their gazes lost, they surely regretted having come. They looked like survivors. As if they'd just escaped from a monster.
I watched them all, in silence, until my gaze was drawn to a crouching figure. It was the silver-haired girl.
There she was, perfectly still.
Crouching, elbows on hips, chin resting in her open hand, eyes closed. She looked bored with waiting.
The moment my eyes landed on her, she reopened hers and looked at me.
Then she smiled a mocking, almost provocative smile.
The door opened behind us. Another group approached, with slow but confident steps. Only two people. One walked with his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping the room with arrogant casualness.
I recognized the figure immediately.
Vaek.
My breath hitched. My heart was beating too fast with rage. To my right, Persival stared at him, silent, his shoulders still slumped from the effort. And on his back, Nael moved.
I heard a hoarse growl at his back, a jerky breath.
Naël rose slowly to his feet, slipping clumsily to the ground. He staggered a step, his legs still weak. He'd only just regained consciousness, but his eyes... his eyes were wide awake.
He'd just seen Vaek.
- That dirty bastard...
His fist clenched, his jaws tightened. He took a step forward, trembling with anger.
He was going to lash out. Clearly. Barely back, barely able to stand, but ready to pounce on him. As if pain, chaos and frustration had brought him to the surface just for that.
I caught him just in time, putting my hand on his shoulder.
- Naël... not now.
He froze. He stared at me, panting.
- Do you think I've forgotten Kameron? You think I've forgotten the state he was in at the hospital? And those guys earlier? You think it's a coincidence? It's him, I'm sure of it!
- I know he is. I'm thinking the same thing. But right now, if you take one more step, they'll come after us. Those guys in suits are just waiting.
He froze for another second, his whole body tense. Then he backed away slowly, reluctantly. But his eyes never left Vaek.
Not for a single second.
On the other side of the room, there was movement. The bleeding duo, obviously survivors of a violent encounter, were attracting attention. One of them, unable to stand, was slowly crawling backwards, hands flat on the floor, breathless. The other had immediately placed himself between him and the entrance, on guard, unarmed. Improvised protection. They had an instinctive reaction when they saw Vaek arrive...
The latter advanced quietly, followed by a slender girl with braided white hair and eyes as cold as snow. She bore a striking resemblance to the silver-haired girl. Probably twins.
They didn't stop, passing us as if we were invisible to them. They were just joining the silver-haired girl, their trio.
When the counter read zero, a crackling sound came from the giant screen.
It was the green-haired thirty-something from earlier, looking as jovial as ever.
- Zone 5. Welcome to you all. The test starts soon... and it won't stop until the teams destined for the next stages have been spotted.
A wave of murmurs went up in the room.
He continued:
- No stopwatch. No referee. No second chances. It's not a fight to the death, of course... but it's not a game either.
Silence.
- Those who want to give up... you've got five seconds.
No one moves, knowing what happens to deserters.
Those who run away will be killed in cold blood. He'd said it.
He laughed and continued
- Very well, he concluded. Good luck with that.
He raised his hand, then a thud sounded: The doors locked.
silence fell.