Mikey thought he had finally been accepted. Just for this test to rip it away, like a cruel joke. It made him sick, but in that sickness was fire, one that burned even as exhaustion ate at him. He lifted his chin toward the upper suite.
"Just tell me what it is! What I have to do!"
Isaak and Gerron shared a glance. Gerron gave his son a nod, a firm pat on the shoulder, like a craftsman proud of the twisted thing he'd built. Isaak raised the mic again.
"The first phase measured your physical strength. The second, your mind." He drew in a long, measured breath. "The third… will challenge your spirit. A couple of weeks ago, when our squads brought back refugees from Rossen, they were attacked by bandits."
Mikey's eyes tracked movement across the dome. The far gate began to rumble open, iron groaning.
"Instead of putting them down, we took those bandits alive. Prisoners of war. They never cracked under questioning, and in truth, the matter wasn't important enough to pursue." Isaak hesitated, his voice dipped with shame. "So, we use them for this test. In order to pass, Michael—you must kill each of them. All twenty." He swallowed. "Good luck."
The gate clanked fully open, and Mikey's eyes widened. Shackled men shuffled through, twenty in total. Their faces hard, gaunt, some hungry, others wild with the desperate anger of caged dogs. Guards dragged them forward and began unclasping chains. Each man held a weapon—knives, machetes, jagged blades, even a few rusted swords. Mikey's throat went dry.
Above, Savior members stared at one another in disbelief. This wasn't a trial. It was slaughter. Mikey had only killed twice in his life, both in Jöten. Now he was expected to carve through twenty men? The absurdity of it made him chuckle. It bubbled out, sharp and bitter.
"Are you…" His chuckle grew into a jagged laugh. "…are you serious? This is insane!"
Gerron plucked the mic from Isaak's hand, voice thundering. "Kill them all. Show your skill. Show your willingness to obey my command and fight for our cause."
Mikey looked down at the sheaths on his thighs, then back to the bandits, who flexed against their manacles like wolves about to be unleashed. He gritted his teeth, a smile twisting across his face, born of anger and disappointment.
"This is so stupid… all of it. So damn stupid."
He drew the daggers, blades catching the light. His chest heaved as flashes burned across his mind—his mother and father, their voices in memory. His new family: Bobo's big dumb grin, Luce's fire wrapped around kindness, Ryosuke's burdened wisdom, Tobi's anxious humor stitched with trauma, Amelia's gentle eyes and that rooftop night under a different name. Her smile. Her sketches.
'I thought… I thought I'd found a home.'
The guards pulled away. Shackles hit the floor. The bandits surged forward, voices raw with promised freedom. "Let's kill the boy!" one shouted. "Yeah Imma earn my way out!"
Mikey scoffed, tightening his grip.
'This world is cruel. So damn cruel. You wanna get rid of me? Nah.'
He broke into a run, daggers ready, a roar tearing out of his throat—though the words remained silent, buried deep.
'I don't care how many of these bastards I have to cut down…'
The dome leaned forward in their seats. Isaak and Gerron did too, anticipation buzzing in the air.
'I will not lose my family again!'
Forty feet. The bandits bore down, weapons raised. Mikey's heart thundered. Images of past and present collided in his mind.
'Please...not ever again.'
He roared, ready for the first clash—
BOOM.
The entire dome froze. Silence fell heavy. Dust rattled from the rafters. Everyone looked up.
BOOM.
The ceiling trembled, small stones dropping into the arena floor. Isaak and Gerron whipped their heads upward. Bobo, Luce, Ryosuke, Tobi, Amelia—all wide-eyed, searching. Even the bandits hesitated mid-charge, the rage in their faces flickering into confusion.
BOOM!
Louder now. The dome quaked. Rubble sifted down in streams. The air turned thick with dust. Bobo leaned to Luce, whisper sharp, "What the hell is that… an earthquake?" Luce's hands curled against the railing. "I don't know, Bo…"
BOOM!
The sound pressed against Mikey's skull. Déjà vu. He'd heard this rhythm before. In the visions, in the warnings, it all made his stomach drop.
BOOM!!
The ceiling split open with a thunderous crack. Concrete tore loose, crashing down in massive slabs. Mikey darted back, weaving through falling debris, the air filled with the screams of crushed bandits. The sharp stench of blood hit his nose as he glimpsed limbs jutting from under rubble.
The dome filled with choking dust. Sunlight speared through the hole above, a raw beam cutting into the center of the arena. Defectors coughed and shielded their faces. Mikey staggered to a stop, staring at the base of a fallen slab—ten feet high, thirty feet across. His breath hitched as the haze thinned.
The light revealed figures. Six of them. Standing atop the rubble as if the dome had been built for their arrival. They wore black robes edged in yellow, the fabric shifting like it belonged to another world. Hoods cast their faces in shadow, but on each was the same mark, stitched in gold thread: a coiled eel, encircled by radiant beams of light.
Mikey's gut turned to ice. His pulse hammered in his ears.
'They're here. The Predecessor said they'd come. Holy shit…'
The Brotherhood had arrived.