The silence left by Daren's last words hadn't even settled when Verya's voice rose again, merciless as a blade.
"Next."
The ledger's pages fluttered as though carried by unseen wind. Each turn sounded like a death knell. Survivors shifted uneasily, their breaths short and uneven. Some had eyes fixed on the ground, praying the ink wouldn't shape their names. Others stared at Verya with defiance, as if sheer will might bend fate.
The first match after Daren and Fin broke what little hope remained.
"Kaen," Verya called.
Kaen's chest tightened. His name sounded heavier than iron.
He stepped forward, heart hammering. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. He didn't dare look at Daren or Fin—didn't want to see the fracture between them mirrored in their eyes.
"And his opponent…"
The page stilled.
"…Aren."
Gasps rippled through the survivors.
Kaen's eyes snapped upward. The untouched trainee stepped forward slowly, deliberately, like a predator circling prey. Aren's lips curved into a faint smile—mocking, venomous. His posture carried no hesitation, no nerves. Only cold certainty.
The untouched had been forged differently, molded not through desperation, but through discipline and cruelty. They were soldiers before the trials began. And now, one of them was his opponent.
Kaen's throat dried. The whispers came like knives.
"He's dead."
"No chance."
"Why pit him against them?"
Kaen clenched his fists. His body trembled, but he straightened, refusing to bow his head. He had come too far, fought too hard, bled too much. He would not let Aren see fear.
Aren's smirk widened, eyes glinting. He raised a finger, dragging it slowly across his own throat in a silent promise.
Kaen didn't flinch. But inside, his stomach churned.
---
"Riku."
The voice dragged his name from the ledger.
Riku froze, pulse hammering in his ears. He tried to swallow, but his throat locked. Every part of him screamed to run, but his legs betrayed him, carrying him forward step by step.
"And his opponent… Elira."
A woman stepped forward. Her hair was tied back in a sharp knot, her gaze sharp enough to cut steel. Unlike Aren's mocking cruelty, Elira's aura was ice—calm, precise, unyielding. She didn't smirk. She didn't taunt. She simply looked at Riku the way a hunter studies game, already plotting where the arrow would pierce.
Riku's breath shook. His palms sweated. He had survived this long by wit, by slipping past blades, by never standing where death swung. But now? There was nowhere to run.
He tried to steady himself, whispering words too soft for others to hear. "I… I can do this. I have to."
But his eyes betrayed him, flicking to Lyra.
Her face was pale.
Because she knew her name was coming.
---
And then it did.
"Lyra."
The sound of it was a verdict.
She stepped forward, chin trembling but raised, a storm behind her eyes. She would not cower. She would not give them satisfaction.
Her opponent's name followed like a hammer blow.
"Veyra."
A hush fell.
Even among the untouched, Veyra was different. His presence was suffocating, his frame towering, his eyes glowing with an almost feral intensity. Whispers spread instantly, laced with dread.
"He crushed his last opponent…"
"They say he doesn't just win. He breaks."
"Lyra's finished."
Veyra's lips parted in something that wasn't quite a smile, wasn't quite a snarl. His gaze locked onto Lyra, and for the first time, her hand twitched—just slightly, almost reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.
Kaen's stomach sank. He had thought his own pairing was cruel. But Lyra's… Lyra's was a death sentence.
And still, she whispered to herself, voice barely audible, but sharp as broken glass.
"Let him come."
---
Three names. Three pairings. And with each, hope drained further.
The untouched stood tall, smirking, sneering, or silently certain. The survivors stood shaken, their unity fraying like old rope.
Daren and Fin—brothers in arms, forced into enemies.
Kaen—marked for slaughter against Aren's smirk.
Riku—set against the ice-cold Elira.
Lyra—thrown before the storm called Veyra.
It was too much. Too heavy. Too cruel.
And yet… that was the point.
Verya's eyes scanned the group. Her expression never shifted.
"The names are written," she said. "The path is sealed. Each battle will be fought to its end. To falter is to die. To survive is to become more than you are."
Her words rang like steel striking stone. No comfort. No mercy. Only decree.
Kaen looked at Daren again. His friend hadn't moved. His eyes burned into the dirt, jaw locked, shoulders trembling with contained rage.
Fin, beside him, had folded into himself, face pale, lips trembling with prayers no god would hear.
Lyra stood like a flame about to be snuffed out, daring the wind to try.
Riku shifted like a leaf in a storm, ready to break—or maybe bend enough to survive.
And Kaen himself? He felt the weight of the smirk still on him, the promise of Aren's blade already in his veins.
The survivors looked less like comrades now, and more like lambs penned for slaughter.
Yet somewhere beneath the despair, somewhere beneath the fear, something else stirred.
Resolve.
Because once your name was called, there was no turning back.
Reactions & Resolve
The clearing was silent after the last name fell, but it wasn't peace. It was the silence of a battlefield after the first arrow is loosed—every breath drawn tight, every heart waiting for the inevitable clash.
Verya closed the ledger with a deliberate snap. The sound cracked like thunder in the tense stillness. Her voice followed, calm and absolute.
"The pairings stand. Three days remain. Rest. Prepare. And when the horn calls… step forward without hesitation."
She turned, cloak swirling, leaving the survivors to their storm.
No one moved. Not at first.
Then the whispers began.
---
"Daren against Fin… they'll kill each other."
"Kaen doesn't stand a chance against Aren."
"Lyra's dead. She doesn't even know it."
"The untouched will take all ten spots."
The voices cut like blades, each survivor's words dripping with fear. None dared say them loudly, but none could hold them back. The truth weighed too heavily.
---
Kaen stood still, his nails biting into his palms. He didn't even notice the sting of blood until a drop slid down his wrist.
He looked across the clearing at Aren, who still wore that smirk, arms crossed, shoulders relaxed. Not a single hint of doubt in him.
Kaen's chest burned. He thinks I'm already defeated.
His thoughts churned like fire in a forge.
I've fought beasts larger than men. I've faced nights colder than death. And yet… I've never felt so small. If I falter, if I hesitate, he'll crush me. No—not just crush. He'll make it slow. Mock me while he does it. I can't allow that.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his breath to steady. I'll fight. Even if I fall, I'll fight.
---
Daren had not moved since his name was called. His fists trembled at his sides, jaw clenched so tightly veins bulged along his neck.
He didn't look at Fin. He couldn't.
Why him? Why not anyone else?
His mind spat curses. At the ledger. At fate. At Verya. At himself.
They want to break me. They want to strip away what I have left. And if I fight him… if I fight Fin seriously…
He imagined Fin's blood on his blade, Fin's voice crying out in pain. His stomach churned with sickness. His breath grew ragged.
"…I can't," he muttered under his breath. "I can't kill him."
But a darker thought rose. If I don't… he'll kill me.
The conflict twisted like a blade in his chest.
---
Fin stood apart, shoulders slumped, eyes glassy. His lips moved, whispering words no one could hear. A prayer. Or maybe just fragments of one.
I don't want this. Not him. Please, not him.
Memories flashed: Daren's hand pulling him from a pit of mud during the first trial, Daren's laugh when they finally ate something warm after days of hunger. He saw the brotherhood they had forged through fire and ruin.
And now? They were meant to cut each other down.
Fin's eyes brimmed, but no tears fell. They burned too hot to escape.
He pressed his hands together, trembling. If there's a god left in this world… show me a path where both of us live.
---
Lyra's face was pale, but her gaze was sharp, locked on the towering figure of Veyra. His presence loomed across the field even from a distance.
The survivors whispered about him with dread, but she didn't flinch. She refused to.
He's stronger. Everyone knows it. They've already decided my fate.
Her chest tightened, but she set her jaw. I won't let him take it from me. I'll fight. If I burn out, I'll burn brighter than anyone here. Even if he crushes me… he'll remember I stood in front of him without fear.
Her fists trembled slightly, but she drew them to her chest. Her breath steadied. Her eyes hardened.
"I'll make him bleed," she whispered to herself.
---
Riku sat on the edge of the clearing, knees drawn to his chest, head bowed. His heartbeat thundered so loud it drowned the whispers.
Elira's cold gaze lingered in his mind. She hadn't mocked him. She hadn't even cared. To her, he was already beneath notice.
That thought was worse than hatred. Worse than threats.
I've always hidden. Always found the shadows. It kept me alive. But shadows won't save me now. She'll cut through me like I'm nothing. Like I never mattered.
His nails dug into his knees.
But I do matter. I've made it this far. I survived everything. I'm not nothing. Not anymore.
He looked up, eyes flickering, voice hoarse. "I'll prove it. I'll prove it to her. To all of them."
---
Across the clearing, the untouched watched.
Aren's smirk had only deepened as he watched Kaen's silent fury. He leaned toward Elira with mock casualness.
"Look at him. He's already broken. One strike and he's done."
Elira didn't respond, her gaze fixed coldly on Riku.
Veyra, towering and silent, cracked his knuckles slowly, his smile a cruel, eager curve.
To them, this wasn't survival. It was a game.
---
The survivors had no such luxury.
They gathered in small knots, whispers growing urgent, fearful. Some spoke of running. Some spoke of throwing matches to live. Some simply wept, too exhausted to hide it.
But Kaen's group found each other.
Daren's fists still trembled. Fin's lips still moved in prayer. Riku's eyes still burned with fragile resolve. Lyra's voice was sharp, steady.
"We don't have a choice. They'll come for us. All we can do is meet them."
Her words fell heavy. But they lit something, too.
Kaen's chest stirred. Daren's jaw eased. Fin's whispers slowed. Riku lifted his head.
They were broken, yes. But not yet crushed.
---
The sun dipped, shadows stretching long across the clearing. The day of choices was over, and the night ahead felt colder than any before.
And still… somewhere deep within the survivors, sparks flickered.
Resolve.
Defiance.
The will to endure, no matter how cruel the trial became.