The sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and fiery reds. Shadows stretched long over the clearing where survivors had gathered, yet no one dared speak loudly. The weight of the day's announcements lingered like smoke, bitter and choking.
A crude shelter had been built from the scraps of their ordeal—lean-to roofs of canvas and wood, fire pits ringed by stones, blankets too thin for comfort. The place was meant to keep them alive for three nights, nothing more.
But tonight, it felt like a prison.
The untouched group clustered together at one end of camp. They laughed, their voices sharp and grating, the sound of wolves circling a carcass. The others avoided looking their way, as if eye contact alone might invite their cruelty.
Kaen sat with his group—Daren, Fin, Lyra, and Riku—around a small fire. Its flicker cast their faces in uneven light, highlighting exhaustion, fear, and something else beneath it: determination, fragile but alive.
For a long time, no one spoke. The fire cracked, the untouched laughed, and the rest of the survivors tried to pretend tomorrow wasn't real.
Finally, Fin's voice broke the silence.
"…Why us?" His words were soft, trembling, but edged with despair. "Why did it have to be us against them?"
No one answered at first. Because the truth was obvious. Because fate was cruel.
Daren's fists clenched. He stared into the flames, voice low and sharp. "Because they want to break us. That's the only reason. They don't just want survivors—they want killers. Monsters who'll do whatever it takes."
Lyra's gaze didn't leave the fire. "Then we either become monsters… or we're crushed by them."
The words hit like stones.
Fin shook his head violently, eyes wide, shimmering with desperation. "No. No, there has to be another way. Daren, I can't—" His voice cracked. "I can't raise a blade against you. You're my brother. You saved me more times than I can count. If they think I'll strike you down just to climb higher—"
Daren's jaw flexed. His voice was rough, almost breaking. "And what if I don't fight you? What then? They'll cut us both down. You think those bastards care about mercy?"
The fire snapped loudly between them.
Fin lowered his head, biting his lip so hard it drew blood. Tears threatened but never fell. His whisper came shaky. "…Then maybe I'd rather fall with you than live without you."
The words silenced the group. Even the fire seemed to hush.
Kaen finally spoke, voice steady though his heart trembled. "You can't say that. Not here. Not now."
They all turned toward him.
Kaen's eyes burned with quiet fire. "If you think like that, they've already won. They've taken your spirit before the fight even begins." He clenched his fists, the knuckles white. "Don't give them that. Don't let them see us break."
For once, Fin couldn't meet his eyes.
---
Riku, who had been silent, finally raised his voice, barely above a murmur. "I don't know if I can do this. I've… always survived by staying out of sight. By avoiding fights I couldn't win. But tomorrow… I can't hide. She'll cut me down before I even move."
He looked up, his gaze haunted, but fierce. "But I won't run. Not this time. Even if I fall… I want to fall standing."
Lyra's lips curved into the faintest smile. Not mockery—something closer to pride.
"That's all we can do," she said. "Stand. Even if the world thinks we're too weak, too fragile, too small… we stand. And if they break us, they'll remember they had to try."
Her hand brushed the hilt of her weapon resting at her side. "I'll carve that memory into them."
---
The untouched laughed again across the camp, their voices sharp as blades. Aren's smirk shone even in the dim light, directed straight at Kaen.
Kaen's jaw tightened. He remembered that gesture—Aren's finger across his throat, the promise of death.
He whispered to himself, so low only the fire heard. "Try me."
---
The night deepened. Stars spread across the black sky, cold and distant.
One by one, the survivors settled into uneasy silence. Some sharpened blades with trembling hands. Some muttered prayers to gods who had long abandoned them. Others simply stared into nothing, already mourning the lives they hadn't yet lost.
Kaen's group lingered by the fire until its embers dimmed.
No more words were spoken. Nothing more needed to be.
The silence between them carried more than any vow could.
They would face tomorrow together, even if it meant facing each other.
---
Later, as Kaen lay awake beneath the thin shelter of canvas, his eyes traced the stars. His chest felt heavy, his heart restless.
Three days of preparation… and now only one night left.
He thought of Aren's smirk, of Verya's cold voice, of Fin's trembling whisper, of Lyra's fiery defiance, of Riku's quiet resolve, of Daren's silent rage.
The weight of it pressed into him like iron.
And yet, beneath it all, a spark grew.
Not just survival.
Not just fear.
But defiance.
They wanted to break him. To break them all.
He clenched his fist.
Tomorrow, they'll see.
---
The camera pulls back.
The camp is divided—on one side, the untouched, laughing in their shadows. On the other, the survivors, silent in their grief, sharpened in their resolve.
Above, the stars burn cold and bright.
Below, the fire's embers fade.
And in between, twenty-two hearts beat toward dawn.
Toward battle.
Toward fate.
---
Dawn of Blood
The horn blared before the sun had fully risen.
Its call ripped through the camp, dragging survivors from restless sleep. Some jolted upright, drenched in sweat, eyes wild with the nightmares they hadn't escaped. Others had never closed their eyes at all, sitting awake through the endless night, staring into dying embers as though the fire could shield them from the storm to come.
The air was colder than yesterday. The kind of cold that seeped into bone, that made every exhale puff white against the dawn. But it wasn't the chill of morning that made the survivors shiver. It was the weight of what awaited them.
Kaen sat up slowly, his body aching as though he'd already fought a war. He glanced around at the others.
Fin sat with his hands clasped, lips moving in silent prayer. His face was pale, but his eyes—red and swollen from sleeplessness—were fixed forward, unblinking.
Daren crouched nearby, sharpening his blade with deliberate strokes. The sound scraped the air, grating, harsh. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed, his movements stiff with restrained fury.
Lyra stretched her arms with practiced grace, her breath steady, though Kaen noticed the faint tremor in her fingers before she clenched them into fists.
Riku hugged his knees, eyes darting toward the untouched group across the camp. They were already awake, standing tall in flawless posture, their faces calm, collected, almost bored. They looked like predators waiting for the cage to open.
Kaen clenched his fists. Not a scratch on them. Not a single crack.
---
The horn sounded again, lower, deeper, summoning them forward.
The survivors gathered at the edge of the camp where the mist parted, revealing the battlefield prepared for them.
It was a wide, circular arena carved from the earth itself, ringed by jagged stone pillars and scarred with claw marks from monsters of the past. The ground was uneven, patches of dirt mixed with stone and grass. Around the rim, tall stakes jutted from the earth, some bearing the marks of old blood.
It was no place of glory. It was a place of slaughter.
Verya stood at the center, cloak rippling with the rising wind. Her eyes swept across the gathered survivors—twenty-two souls, though they seemed far fewer beneath her gaze.
Her voice rang out, steady and absolute.
"The time has come. You have survived the wilderness. You have endured hunger, wounds, and fear. But today… you face the truest enemy. Each other."
Her words carried like blades, cutting through the silence.
"No bonds will save you. No mercy will be shown. Only ten will remain standing. And those ten will stand at the peak."
The untouched smiled. The wounded shivered.
Kaen felt his stomach tighten. This is it. There's no turning back now.
---
Verya lifted the ledger, its black pages flicking in the wind.
"First pairing," she declared.
The survivors held their breath. The clearing seemed to contract, every sound fading except for the crack of pages turning.
"Daren."
The name fell like a hammer.
Daren's head jerked up. His blade stilled mid-sharpen. His shoulders squared, but his fists clenched so tightly the veins bulged along his arms.
His breath was heavy, forced, as though he were choking down his rage. Slowly, he rose, stepping forward until he stood in the circle's edge. His presence was raw, dangerous, a storm caged within a man.
Kaen's chest tightened. Already? They're starting with him?
"And his opponent…" Verya's gaze moved, unflinching, cruel.
"…Fin."
The air shattered. Gasps erupted. Some survivors covered their mouths. Others whispered frantic disbelief.
"No…"
"They're… they're going to make them fight first?!"
"That's insane!"
Kaen's head whipped toward Fin.
The boy was frozen, lips trembling, his prayer cut short. His eyes widened in horror, staring at Verya, then at Daren, then back again.
"No," Fin whispered, shaking his head. "No, please… not him. Anyone but him…"
But the ledger had no mercy.
Verya's voice rang again. "Step forward."
Daren turned at last to face Fin. His eyes burned, not with anger for his comrade, but with fury at the fate forced upon them.
Fin staggered to his feet, his knees weak, his face pale as ash. Each step toward the arena was heavier than the last, as though chains dragged him down.
Kaen's throat closed. He wanted to shout, to protest, but his voice caught.
Riku buried his face in his arms, trembling. Lyra's lips pressed into a thin line, her knuckles white.
---
The two entered the circle.
Daren stood like a mountain, his blade gleaming in the early light. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, every muscle coiled in resistance.
Fin gripped his weapon, though his hands shook so violently the blade quivered. His eyes brimmed with tears he could no longer hold back.
"Daren…" his voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper. "I… I can't…"
The silence stretched. The untouched smirked, enjoying the spectacle.
Verya's voice cut through again, colder than ever.
"There is no choice. Fight. Or be forgotten."
The horn sounded for the third time, sharp and merciless.
And with it… the Trial of Blood began.