The huge silhouette of the airship slowly floated over the tops of the dead trees.
A spherical eye descended from its underside, surrounded by metal spikes and glyphs.
A voice came from it — inhuman, distorted, and hollow.
— "All survivors. Attention."
"Only five will remain within 24 hours. The rest will be removed."
— "Every man for himself. Alliances are forbidden."
And the voice was gone.
Silence.
Twenty people were standing around the fire.
Three others, under the control of the spiders, sat off to the side.
Everyone's face is filled with the same emotion: shock.
"What the fuck," someone muttered quietly. "Is this a joke?"
Kalen stood alone, leaning on the hilt of his summoned sword, which was fading back into the air.
The eyes do not blink. The body is tense. The shadow pulsates.
"This is it. The end of the game. Whoever survives will go down in history." said Ward.
"We have to kill them all. Quickly. Right now," hissed Thirk.
Kalen was silent.
He watched.
Nervous looks.
Whisper.
Some were already retreating into the forest, realizing that they wouldn't survive an open battle.
"They're going to kill us. They're crazy!" the girl with the burnt fingers shouted in panic.
Kalen stood up slowly.
He looked around at them all.
"I don't know which of you is worthy."
"I don't know who's a hero and who's a rat in the bushes."
"But if you touch me, you'll die."
He turned and walked away.
***
Night
He was sitting on a hill surrounded by spiders.
The shadow boiled inside him like a boiling cauldron.
He was breathing heavily, his mind was torn apart—sleep beckoned, but sleep was torture.
"Are you ready?" Vard whispered.
"No. But we don't have a choice."
Kalen sat down.
The huge black shadow behind him straightened up, transforming into a silhouette with claws, broken horns, and flashing red patterns.
It wasn't Ward.
It was his magic.
— One more night.
"Another dream.
***
Sleep
Darkness.
Chains.
Blood.
Spiders burst out of his back, fighting against unknown creatures made of screams and ashes.
Kalen is in the middle of hell.
His arms are broken, his leg is gnawed off, and his bone is sticking out.
But he doesn't scream.
He looks.
Studies.
"You must become a beast. But a beast with a mind," says the dragon that emerges from the tattoo.
"You're not just a mage. You're a damned bastion in the midst of chaos. Embrace the pain. Eat it. Swallow it and become it."
Kalen struggles to his feet.
"Screw it all…
He plunges the bloody bone into his chest, tears open the flesh, and extracts the core of the shadow, biting into it with his teeth.
Flash.
The body explodes in a black flame.
He wakes up.
***
Morning. The Day before the Massacre
Kalen gets up as if nothing had happened.
The spiders are waiting for an order, as usual.
Wardes is standing nearby.
"So," Kalen looked around.
— Today is the day of killing. Today is the day of dying.
"I'm just... observing. For now."
"Or until you get tired of playing with food," chuckled Thirk.
The sun had barely risen above the jagged towers of Wildcrane. The icy forest beneath them seemed even more dead than usual, as if time itself had slowed down, waiting. Waiting for the slaughter.
Kallen stood on the slope, wrapped in shadow. His eyes never left the figure below. One of the participants, a boy with poisonous magic, was setting traps between the trees. He worked silently, with great focus.
But Kalen knew he wouldn't survive. He just wasn't worthy.
— "Ward, Thirsk. Status."
"Two are coming from the east, both armed. Four more are coming from the south, they've killed a third and are dividing the mana."
"All is quiet in the north. The spiders have not detected any threats."
— Great. So they're busy with themselves.
"It's time to hunt.
Hunting
He moved silently. The shadow clung to his body like armor—claws, fangs, pupils—all activated.
Two spiders and Ward burst out from behind his shoulders.
Dogs of war.
The first was an alchemist.
He managed to look up before the shadow cut him in half.
The second is a girl with a spear, already wounded. The spiders wrapped her up in a fraction of a second, and only Thirk hissed menacingly:
"You won't survive my love."
He stared at her face. Kalen didn't interfere.
The third one is the guy with the poisonous magic. He saw Kalen, recognized him, and ran away.
"Don't bother," Kalen said. "You're already dead."
A shadow shot out from under his feet, grabbed him by the chest, and threw him into the air.
He exploded in mid-air as Ward thrust his sword into his heart.
"Three down," Kalen muttered. "Twenty to go."
An hour later.
A voice came from the sky again:
— "Attention. Remaining: 17 participants. The eighteenth has been eliminated."
Kalen raised an eyebrow.
"Someone is working faster than we expected," Ward whispered.
— Or vice versa, they finish off the weak.
A skirmish.
He ducked into the thicket, where four people had taken refuge.
They weren't stupid; they set up defenses and positioned themselves around the area.
But Kalen didn't come alone.
"Tirk, yours."
- Ward — from below.
"I'm going to the finish line.
The spiders came in a black wave.
Ward flew through the ground like a torpedo.
Kalen entered their circle quietly.
- hello.
The first one died instantly. The second one had his legs torn off.
The third one fought back until her own shadow crawled into her.
The fourth begged.
"Please…
— I didn't hurt anyone!"
"I was hiding... just hiding!"
Kallen sat down next to him. His eyes were blacker than night, and the patterns were scarlet like blood on snow.
"Exactly.
— You're a coward.
"I don't need cowards in my army."
He broke the guy's neck.
***
Night
They were resting in an old tower that had been pierced by roots.
Spiders swarmed in the darkness. Ward sharpened his sword.
Kalen ate slowly.
— "Seventeen have left. Six remain. Tomorrow is the last day."
"A plan?" asked Thirk.
Kalen closed his eyes.
"We don't kill tomorrow.
"We're watching it tomorrow.
"Let the rest of them tear each other's throats out."
"Like rats in a pit," Ward chuckled.
"And we're the ones who'll set it on fire."