Alvis sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, but his thoughts weren't on his room, the hallway, or the day ahead.
They were on her — the girl surrounded by the elites.
He hadn't seen her before that moment. Her face had been covered, her presence unnaturally composed, even while standing among the most dangerous people in the building.
And that bothered him.
The Curator had taken time to introduce him to Nia — even encouraged it.
But not her.
Why hadn't he introduced me to her?
If she was important enough to be escorted by the elites, she was important enough to have a name.
But no one had given him one.
Far above the trial chambers, in a silent observation room, Kaelin stood beside a screen, her arms folded as she watched surveillance footage from the cafeteria.
She played it back slowly — frame by frame.
Alvis.
Weak posture. Hesitant steps. And then — a stumble.
The food tray slipped.
Nia, standing nearby, bent down and helped him without hesitation.
Kaelin paused the footage.
Why?
Nia didn't help people.
Not unless ordered.
Kaelin narrowed her eyes.
What makes him different?
Back in his room, Alvis dropped to the floor. Pushups. Squats. Again. He wasn't fast, but his arms no longer trembled after five. Maybe after eight.
He didn't care. He wasn't trying to impress anyone.
He was trying to survive.
Stronger every day.
The next morning, footsteps approached his door — brisk, sharp.
A woman in grey entered without ceremony. She carried a tray with a syringe and a sealed vial of something electric blue.
She said nothing as she sanitized his arm.
"This is to help with your strength," she muttered flatly, then injected the serum into his bloodstream.
Alvis clenched his teeth as the cold liquid pulsed through him. It wasn't pain. It was pressure — like a thousand tiny fists inside his veins.
His thoughts swam, then sharpened.
By the time he exhaled, she was already gone.
The wall beside him hissed open — a pristine white bathroom.
No mirrors. No windows. A reminder: he could be seen, but not see back.
But not everyone was watched like this.
Kaelin's room — wherever it was — was never visible.
When Alvis stepped into the hallway, the mood had changed.
The boys stood in silence. The guards at their sides weren't the usual tired security. These were specialists. Eyes hard. Posture locked.
They were being moved somewhere different.
Then Crixus appeared — not from their hallway, but from another. He was flanked by a squad of recruits in darker uniforms, marked with white fang insignias across their shoulders.
The Fangs.
They moved with precision. No wasted breath. No nervous glances.
Crixus met Alvis's eyes as they passed.
His stare said everything.
You're nothing yet.
They were led down into a subterranean hall — wide, reinforced, lit with sterile white panels. Every step echoed.
At the far end, a tall woman in a black uniform stood on a raised platform. Her hands were folded behind her back. A massive screen flickered behind her.
Then Alvis saw her.
Kaelin.
She stood behind a dark window beside the platform — half-shadowed, watching them.
Her face was uncovered now. Her posture still. Eyes tracking movement like she was measuring weight.
Alvis's gaze met hers — just for a second.
Then she looked away.
"Welcome to the Pit Trials," the woman on the platform called out. "You are now divided into six teams. Each team will consist of six members — three males and three females."
Whispers rippled among the boys.
Then a door slid open.
The girls entered.
They were nothing like the boys.
Older. Faster. Trained.
And they had been kept separate on purpose.
Hidden.
Alvis was assigned to Team Three:
Arin – razor-sharp, tactical eyes.
Keira – tall, powerful, deadly silent.
Luma – glowing bronze skin, black curls, and eyes that noticed everything.
Tam – observant, slow to speak, fast to act.
Ren – anxious, fast on his feet.
Alvis – unsure, but steady.
Luma had noticed Alvis earlier — not during training, but in the hallway. He had helped a younger boy tie his loose boots without saying a word.
Quiet kindness. No attention-seeking.
It stayed with her.
Now, she stood beside him, watching him from the corner of her eye.
First Trial: The Weighted Path
The screen projected a massive floor grid: 20x20 steel tiles. Eight heavy blocks scattered across the field.
"Carry all eight blocks to the target zone. Step on a trigger tile — the entire team is eliminated. No exceptions."
They watched Team Five walk forward.
Ten seconds in — someone triggered a tile. Red light. Screams. Drop floor.
Gone.
Team One followed. Similar fate.
Team Three moved next.
Alvis knelt by the grid.
"These tiles… some of them buzz."
Arin tested diagonals. "Offset pattern. Like mines."
Keira hoisted the first block. Moved forward slowly.
Tam followed with the second.
Then his foot slid — just slightly — onto a vibrating tile.
A sharp click echoed.
Everyone froze.
Alvis's eyes widened. "Step left — now."
Tam obeyed.
The red light blinked. Faded.
The trap had armed — but hadn't triggered.
They exhaled.
Recalculated.
Finished the challenge.
Only four teams remained.
Second Trial: The Crushing Run
The room shifted.
A long mechanical corridor stretched ahead — metal walls, steam vents, rotating blades, falling pistons, collapsing panels.
"Crush Run: Complete the corridor in six minutes. Fail to finish as a unit — elimination."
Team Four entered.
Three made it past the first segment.
Then the floor opened.
Two gone.
One crushed.
Eliminated.
Team Two followed — fast, coordinated, lethal. They triggered a saw trap early, ducked pistons with practiced slides. Only one limped through the end — but they all survived.
Now it was Team Three's turn.
They ran.
Blades roared. Pistons fell like gods slamming fists.
Ren tripped — again.
Alvis grabbed him, rolled, and shoved him forward before the heat jet ignited behind them.
Keira used a vent cover as a shield, crashing it into a trap trigger to disable a flamethrower.
Arin was shouting timers.
"Now! Duck! Left — now!"
Tam barely made the leap across a collapsing bridge panel. Luma caught him mid-air.
Alvis was the last.
A saw blade extended.
He didn't slow.
He ducked, slid under it, and landed beside Luma as the final tile sealed shut behind them.
Only Team Two and Team Three remained.
Lying flat, gasping, Alvis blinked through the heat haze.
Luma knelt next to him.
"You keep risking your life for teammates."
He coughed. "Can't let anyone fall behind."
She tilted her head.
For the first time, she smiled — faintly.
"You're not what I expected."
She stayed seated next to him.
Close.
Present.
The screen above flickered again.
Final Trial Incoming.
A heavy steel door at the far end of the chamber hissed open.
Nothing but black inside.
The voice returned:
"Team Three. Step forward."
They stood.
He looked toward the platform.
Kaelin was still there.
But this time, she wasn't watching the whole group.
She was watching him.