On the morning of the first day of the twelfth month of 2033, the sky was clear, tinted with a pale blue, as if nothing extraordinary was going to happen. The cold breeze coming from the mountains brought the feeling of an ordinary day. But, for those living within the walls of Blackthorn Orphanage, there was nothing ordinary that morning.
At seven o'clock on the dot, a single bell echoed through the inner courtyard, dragging everyone to the dining hall. The doors opened, and the smell of fresh bread and thin soup spread through the air. The large hall, with its tables and wooden benches fixed to the floor, awaited the residents. On the tables, metal trays were already lined up, served precisely, without room for excess.
Silence was the rule. Supervisors patrolled the corridors with sharp looks, attentive to any slip. Talking meant losing the meal. Eating in silence was not just discipline: it was a daily reminder that, inside there, everyone was nothing more than a replaceable piece.
Two hundred orphans sat down, their faces marked by expectation and fear. Some chewed slowly, as if prolonging breakfast could prolong life. Others swallowed quickly, anxious, hands trembling over the tray. Everyone knew: at nightfall, the Hunt on the Mountain would begin. And, although no one dared to speak aloud, anxiety hovered like a shadow over every gaze.
The morning continued heavy, with tension impregnated in the air.
At one o'clock, the bell rang three times, announcing the start of practical training. Everyone marched in silence to the training hall, located in a restricted-access corridor. The space was cold and impersonal: worn tatami mats covered the floor, wooden dummies awaited the attack exercises, and mounts fixed to the walls displayed training weapons. The harsh white lighting reinforced the severity of the environment, where nothing reminded of comfort — only discipline, sweat, and pain.
There, the two hundred lined up in a single row, motionless, waiting. Silence was absolute. Only the sound of breathing and the fast beating of hearts filled the room. Everyone shared the same thought: would they see the sun rise again?
Then, with calculated steps, Telvaris crossed the corridor that led to the hall. The path was long and narrow, the raw concrete walls exhaling an almost oppressive cold. White lamps hung from the ceiling, spreading a metallic clarity that accentuated the echo of footsteps on the smooth floor. At the end, a heavy steel door, marked by use, awaited. Nothing decorative — only utilitarian, as if guarding something that demanded respect.
When Telvaris entered the room, the air seemed even heavier. Fear, worry, anxiety — everything was stamped on the faces of the orphans. He stopped in the center of the hall and, in a firm voice, declared:
"In the remaining four hours, initially, one hundred and eighty of you should enter the mountain together with the older residents and the veterans. Twenty days ago, I informed the twenty newcomers that they would also participate, as a form of motivation. But, as everyone here knows, all two hundred will participate."
"It comforts me to know that, during the past days, you have all endured until here." His gaze swept the row like a blade. "I will not prolong myself. I have only one warning: survive."
He paused, letting the silence weigh on each of them.
"For those who reach the top alive, a new world will open before your eyes. And, in this new world, the fear of death will be the least of your problems." His voice echoed through the room. "Now, take your weapons, your equipment, everything you need. Kill your feelings before leaving, so that you can take the life of your colleagues without hesitation. Remember: upon entering the mountain, you will no longer be human. You will be beasts. Only then will you manage to survive."
The orphans' looks changed. Where before there was fear and doubt, now shone the raw determination of those who wish to live, who need to resist to see the dawn of a new era.
Telvaris raised his voice one last time:
"Go prepare yourselves. Know the mountain terrain. And, when the bell rings at six o'clock, it will be the call. It will mark the beginning… and remind everyone that the God of Death will follow you." A slight smile curved his lips. "What will you say to the God of Death today?"
In unison, the two hundred answered, like a thunder breaking the silence of the room:
"Not today!"
As soon as the Omega Supervisor finished, the orphans immediately dispersed, preparing for departure, while the weakened evening approached.
At five fifty, Telvaris and Teseu stopped at the foot of the mountain, observing the path that would extend ahead. Mount Tavaré — once known as Pico do Calçadão — would rise imposing, wrapped in mist and shadows, as if watching every step of those who dared challenge it. The small town of Tavária Sul, which before was known as Alto Caparaó, lay like a shadow below, immersed in a heavy silence, as if death itself roamed its slopes.
As they advanced, the air grew colder and more humid, loaded with the smell of wet earth and decaying vegetation. The ground, full of loose stones and twisted roots, required constant attention; every step could be fatal. The vegetation would change as they climbed: twisted and dry trees leaned like specters, resistant shrubs formed natural barriers, and, in the highest sections, alpine fields stretched like gray blankets hiding the horizon.
The silence of the slopes seemed heavy, almost tangible, broken only by the cutting wind and the distant song of birds that would give omens of danger. Each curve of the trail revealed desolate panoramas: deep valleys plunging into fog, peaks that seemed to touch a gray and impassive sky, and, in the distance, Mount Carvé would appear, formerly called Pico da Bandeira, now wrapped in a somber aura that imposed respect.
While walking in silence, approaching the Alpha Supervisor, leader of Unit Omega, he asked:
"Sir, I have served you for years and never doubted your orders, but there is something I cannot understand: why send all two hundred to undergo this trial, especially placing Ereon as supervisor?"
Teseu stopped, lit his cigar, and exhaled smoke. In a voice without any emotion, he continued:
"Does that question contain any emotional bond of yours?"
Surprised, Telvaris replied:
"No. Sir, I understand well that we do not need feelings here."
"But, if there is a small possibility, wouldn't it be better to increase our numbers? Our enemies have gods, demigods, thousands of troops…" He continued, with an aggressive tone. "On our side, we have only a few who managed to cross the Abyss, besides me and the Five Shadows. Until today, no one who tried has returned. So I think we should…"
Before Telvaris finished, the director interrupted:
"Telvaris, what is the function of Unit Alpha?"
"To finish off our enemies." Telvaris replied firmly.
The director continued:
"Telvaris, as you yourself said, we have been together for a long time… you, besides that person, are one of the only ones who have been with me since the orphanage was founded, in this era where equality does not reign. So I will ask you a question: if the situation demanded that you kill me, would you be able to do it?"
Telvaris was disoriented by the question. Before he could answer, the bell rang at six o'clock, starting the Hunt. With the sound of the bells, they could hear the director's steps moving away, but before disappearing, he said:
"Telvaris, since you will remain here until dawn, as soon as the survivors descend, have them collect the bodies and take them to the top of the mountain to burn them. That way, they will never forget where they are. And tell Ereon to go to my office before leaving; I want to speak with him."
Then, with that unfinished conversation, he could perceive that something was approaching, felt it in his skin and bones, while watching Ereon disappear into the shadows of the mountain. There, he would hear the first scream echo across the vast peak, knowing that there was no turning back and that the dice had already been cast.
At the beginning of the climb, fifty veterans detached from the main group and blocked Ereon's path. Their eyes burned with a desperate determination — to buy time so that the remaining one hundred and fifty could advance up the mountain. It was a simple but risky strategy: sacrifice themselves to open space.
Ereon stopped. The wind blew through his hair, bringing the cold smell of wet stone. Calm, almost insulting, he brought his hand to the hilt of his sword. His voice, low and loaded with dark serenity, echoed only to himself, while the veterans prepared for the attack:
"I know, Totsuka no Tsurugi… I will carry out the orders given to me."
The metallic sound of the blade sliding out of the sheath cut through the night's silence. Soon after, as if fate itself were laughing at the fifty there, a thick cloud covered the moon, and the slope plunged into total darkness. The wind roared, spreading an almost supernatural tension.
Moments later, the one hundred and fifty who continued climbing heard it. First, a single torn scream. Then dozens. The sound of flesh being torn, bones breaking, life being brutally taken. The smell of fresh blood was carried by the cold current, reaching each of them, impregnating their nostrils like a cruel warning.
And there, amid darkness and terror, they remembered the plan they had made with the veterans: distract the monster so they could escape. But deep down, everyone knew — that sacrifice had only served to show that there was no escape.
When the moon returned to illuminate the slope, the scene revealed itself. One of the veterans still resisted, the body kneeling, eyes fixed on Ereon who advanced slowly toward him. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth as he tried to raise the sword, in a last gesture of defiance.
In his mind, the words of Telvaris, said hours before, echoed: "When you meet the God of Death, remember what you must say… do not hesitate, show that you are still alive."
The veteran's lips trembled, and he tried to whisper:
"Today n…"
He could not finish. The blade passed. His body remained seated for a moment, as if still fighting the inevitable, until the head rolled across the wet ground, erasing forever the promise that would never be fulfilled.
Then Ereon continued with the Hunt, and the one hundred and fifty ahead could feel death approaching