The bus slowed to a halt at another stop, its brakes hissing as the doors opened. More recruits climbed aboard young men and women of all shapes and sizes, some carrying themselves with stiff resolve, others with hesitant, shuffling steps. Hyun-Jae watched them quietly as they filled the seats, wondering how many of them had chosen to come and how many had been pushed into it by their families.
The ride stretched on until the landscape outside began to change. Concrete and glass gave way to chain-link fences, guard towers, and long stretches of open ground. The bus turned through a heavily guarded gate, rolling into a sprawling military base brimming with activity. Rows of soldiers in uniform moved with rigid precision, trucks rumbled along wide roads, and the sound of drills echoed faintly in the distance.
Hyun-Jae pressed his forehead lightly against the glass, scanning the groups of volunteers being led off other buses. He couldn't help but wonder if Soo-Min was somewhere among them, stepping into this new life just as he was.
The recruits were directed off the bus and into a massive hall. The room was wide and high-ceilinged, with rows of chairs lined neatly across the floor. The air carried the faint tang of polished steel and disinfectant. Hyun-Jae found a seat among the crowd, the low murmur of nervous chatter filling the space as more and more participants gathered.
After a few minutes, the noise quieted on its own as a commanding presence strode toward the podium at the front. Hyun-Jae recognized him immediately he had seen this man on the news several times, always at the forefront of military briefings. His broad shoulders and sharp gaze radiated authority, and the medals pinned to his uniform caught the light with every step.
"Participants," the man's voice boomed, deep and unwavering, "I am General Kang Hi-Joon, Commander of the South Korean Armed Forces for this so called Tournament hosted by the individuals that identify themselves as the Celestials."
The room fell into an uneasy silence. Hyun-Jae straightened in his seat, heart pounding as he realized the weight of where he was and what lay ahead.
General Kang Ji-Hoon's gaze swept across the massive hall, sharp and commanding. "Before I begin, I know many of you have questions. Raise your hands."
A sea of hands shot up. The General gave a short nod. "Alright. I'll do my best to answer what I can."
The first soldier-like student stood. "When will we meet up with the other countries?"
General Kang's jaw tightened. "The Celestials themselves said they would handle the transportation of all competitors. We don't know when or how. That is the extent of what we've been told."
Another participant asked, "Where will the tournament even take place?"
The General shook his head slowly. "We don't know. The Celestials did not share that detail with any government. What we do know is that they promised they would arrive… around this time."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of his words pressing down on every chest. People exchanged uneasy glances, a mix of anticipation and dread swirling in the air.
General Kang's hand curled into a fist behind the podium. "So, until they appear, our only job is to prepare. Do not expect answers we don't have. Expect only the unexpected."
Hyun-Jae shifted uneasily in his seat, the General's words echoing in his head. They don't know anything… not even the governments. The thought gnawed at him, the unknown looming larger than the threats they'd been drilled to face for years. If even they're blind… then what kind of "tournament" are we walking into?
His mind began to spiral, drowning out the steady cadence of General Kang's speech. Images of endless battlefields, monstrous beings, and alien competitors pressed against the walls of his thoughts. His fingers clenched the armrest of his chair.
Then—
A ripple of energy surged through the hall. The hairs on the back of Hyun-Jae's neck stood up before he even realized what had happened. Gasps broke out, chairs scraped against the floor, and all eyes snapped to the podium.
Something had appeared behind the General.
At first, it was just light—blinding, pure, and shifting like a veil being pulled aside. Then the shape of a figure began to emerge from it, tall and impossibly sharp against the backdrop of the world. Hyun-Jae's chest tightened.
The General froze mid-sentence. A shadow stretched long behind him as the presence fully manifested.
Hyun-Jae's breath caught in his throat. One of them… one of the Celestials.
The weight of its aura pressed down on everyone in the room, suffocating, heavy enough that even the General's usually unflinching expression faltered for a moment.
The hall had fallen completely silent, all eyes locked on the towering figure behind the podium. The serious Celestial's gaze swept across the gathered recruits before settling briefly on General Kang. His voice resonated—not loud, but heavy, like it was pressed directly into their bones.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "Is everyone present?"
General Kang's jaw tightened. He turned to the rows of recruits, scanning their stiff forms before giving a curt nod. "Yes. All accounted for."
The Celestial closed his eyes slowly, almost in contemplation. Then, with a sharp snap of his fingers, the world fractured.
In an instant, the air around them folded in on itself. The fluorescent lights of the hall stretched into lines of white, the floor beneath them dissolved, and a weightless pull seized Hyun-Jae's stomach. Before anyone could scream, they were standing somewhere else.
Gasps and shouts erupted. Some stumbled to the ground, clutching their heads or their knees. Hyun-Jae swayed, his vision swimming as he tried to take in the new surroundings.
A vast chamber stretched before them, metallic and gleaming, with towering windows that revealed a breathtaking view of stars and nebulae scattered across the void. Strange, luminous panels pulsed along the walls, and pathways branched into corridors that seemed to bend beyond the limits of human design.
"A… a different planet?" someone whispered, the word rippling through the stunned crowd.
The Celestial, however, remained as composed as ever. His expression was impassive, his aura unshaken by their confusion.
"This," he declared, "will serve as your realm's base until the tournament concludes." His words carried no room for question, each syllable sealing itself into the recruits' minds.
He let the silence hang for a moment, watching the humans slowly regain their footing. Then, with the faintest lift of his chin, he added:
"There will be an announcement soon. Wait for it. Until then settle in."
No further explanation. No comfort. Just command.
The Celestial's eyes flickered once more across the room, unreadable. Then he spoke again, his tone clipped and final:
"The attendants will help you get acquainted with the area."
It was only then that the humans noticed they weren't alone. Figures stepped forward from the shadows of the chamber—dozens of them. At first glance, they looked human, but there was something… different. Their movements were too smooth, their presence too polished, like they had been sculpted into perfection. Their skin gleamed faintly under the ship's artificial light, and their eyes carried an uncanny sharpness that made some recruits instinctively avert their gaze but quickly their expression became warm.
One of them, a woman with sleek black hair bound into a high knot, bowed slightly. "Welcome, participants," she said, her voice crisp, clear, and resonant. "Please form a line so you can be entered into the system. From there, you will receive your quarters and assignments."
Another attendant mirrored her movements on the opposite side of the chamber, guiding clusters of confused recruits into orderly lines.
Hyun-Jae felt his pulse thudding in his ears. Everything was happening too fast with the snap of fingers, the impossible teleportation, the presence of attendants, but resistance wasn't even an option. His legs moved on their own, falling into step behind the others as the line began to form.
He glanced around, catching glimpses of wide-eyed students, pale-faced volunteers, and trembling draftees, all shuffling forward like passengers boarding a train they couldn't disembark. His throat tightened.
No choice. No turning back. Just… move.
And so he did.