"Well, now that we've all recovered…"
The green-haired prince's voice broke through the murmur of the group. His tone was smooth—too smooth. The kind of voice you'd expect from someone who thought speeches were their birthright.
"I'd love to explain the reason for this gathering," he continued, his words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. "I know you've all been puzzled as to why we've decided to gather some of you here."
He took a slow step forward, gaze sweeping over the crowd like he was surveying subjects rather than equals.
"It's quite simple," he said at last, spreading his arms slightly, "I want to help you all pass this test."
A few people exchanged confused glances. Someone near the back muttered something under their breath, but Gutso ignored it.
"Out of the two thousand students that registered for this exam," he went on, his voice dipping just enough to sound serious, "less than forty percent will pass the first phase. That's just this test. There's still the duel stage and the written test ahead."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"So," he said, smirking faintly, "I've decided to help you lucky few."
There it was—that royal tone again. Lucky few. As if being handpicked by him was some divine blessing.
"You see," he continued, gesturing casually toward the others standing near him, "my Truth has to do with ranged attacks. And my friends here—well, their powers complement mine perfectly for teamwork."
He motioned first to the healer—the calm-looking boy with the faint green aura around his hands. "Simon here has the Truth of healing and rejuvenation, as some of you might have realized already."
Simon nodded once, expression unreadable.
"And Trix over there," Gutso said, pointing to a tall, wiry figure standing a bit apart from the rest, "his Truth is enhancement—boosting physical and sensory attributes. Together, we're the perfect pillars a team could ask for."
His eyes gleamed with self-satisfaction as he folded his hands behind his back. "So feel free to join us if you want. All you have to do is offer your essence for communal convergence."
A ripple of uncertainty spread through the group. Murmurs, shifting feet, cautious looks.
Gutso smiled wider, misreading the silence for hesitation rather than skepticism. "This will benefit you in the long run. Think of it as an investment—your power, my leadership, our success."
---
"Pfft!!"
I couldn't hold it in.
The sound escaped before I could stop myself—half snort, half laugh. Heads turned. Even Gutso's self-assured expression wavered slightly.
Ridiculous.
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to compose myself, but the absurdity of it all was too much. Of course he'd try to make himself the center of attention—even in a survival test.
But beyond the arrogance, the plan itself was laughable.
Essence Communal Convergence—an advanced Truth Array, mostly used by the military during large-scale campaigns. Not something random students should be playing around with.
It was a ritualistic link—a system that allowed multiple users to merge their essence pools, creating an enormous, shared reservoir of energy. Each participant could draw from that shared pool, effectively extending their stamina and enhancing teamwork.
In theory, it was brilliant.
In practice, it was a death trap.
Sure, you couldn't share in someone's Truth, but with enough participants, you could create an almost insurmountable wall of endurance. Even the weakest person could contribute to battle—not with their powers, but with their essence.
It was one of the few ways even non-combatants could support a team. The army used it for long sieges and territory holding, where efficiency mattered more than individuality.
But of course, every light had its shadow—its Lie.
And for Essence Communal Convergence, the flaw was as cruel as it was ironic.
Once linked, the network had no control mechanism. It didn't filter or restrict usage. Essence flowed freely between participants—too freely. One person could accidentally drain everyone else just by overusing the shared pool.
In other words, one idiot could doom an entire squad.
And in wars of attrition, it was suicidal. The moment one participant ran out of essence, the entire system destabilized. The essence pool would collapse on itself, and the result? Mass fatigue at best, mass fatalities at worst.
It was a gamble—trust elevated to its deadliest form.
That alone was bad enough, but there was something worse: it couldn't be instinctively severed.
Once you joined the convergence, you were bound. The only way out was to physically cut your connection to the conduit—the person who initiated it. And that meant either with direct contact with the conduit or killing the conduit outright.
I didn't even need to guess who that would be.
He was the conduit.
Of course he was. Gutso had practically painted the word "leader" across his forehead since the moment he started talking.
The entire thing was a power play, and I couldn't help but admire how neatly he'd disguised it as generosity.
A few students whispered among themselves, clearly tempted. Gutso's words had weight; he spoke with confidence and certainty, and people were drawn to that—especially when they were scared.
Fear made fools of even the smartest people.
I leaned back slightly, crossing my arms. The girl who'd electrocuted me earlier—Lira—was standing off to the side, arms folded, still glaring at me every few seconds. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Gutso as he spoke, then away again, unreadable.
She didn't look convinced either.
Good. At least one person here wasn't buying it.
"Think about it," Gutso said, spreading his arms again as though conducting an orchestra. "Pooling our essence increases survivability. You'll have access to near-limitless stamina and recovery. No more worrying about exhaustion in battle. And under my guidance, we can easily secure a top position for the next phase."
Someone near the front raised a hand hesitantly. "What if… someone runs out of essence too fast?"
Gutso's smile didn't falter. "Then they'll simply need to manage their output better. The convergence rewards discipline."
"Right…" the person muttered, clearly not convinced.
I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
It wasn't discipline that mattered—it was trust. And trust was exactly what people like Gutso didn't understand.
I shifted my weight, scanning the group again. Maybe fifteen of us in total, all varying levels of curiosity and suspicion. A few were whispering to one another, debating.
I could already see how this would play out. Some would join, chasing safety in numbers. Others would hesitate, too cautious or too independent. And Gutso would get exactly what he wanted: control.
That's all it really was—a move to assert dominance under the pretense of teamwork.
The Essence Communal Convergence would bind everyone who joined to him, both literally and psychologically. Once connected, they'd rely on him, defer to him. It was a strategy as old as power itself.
And the scary part? It would probably work.
I sighed quietly. "Ridiculous," I muttered under my breath.
Maybe I was being cynical, but experience had taught me one thing—any offer that promised mutual benefit without a cost was just a lie waiting to bloom.
I looked at Gutso again, really looked. His aura was steady, confident, almost too controlled. He radiated the kind of charm that came from years of privilege and practice. He knew how to talk, how to make people listen.
But beneath that confidence, there was something else—a faint shimmer in his eyes that gave him away. Calculation.
He wasn't helping anyone. He was building something—for himself.
A following. A foundation.
And anyone foolish enough to link their essence to his would become part of that foundation.
I caught Simon's gaze briefly. The healer didn't look as convinced as Gutso. His expression was neutral, almost weary, as if this wasn't the first time the prince had tried to play leader.
Trix, on the other hand, looked eager—like a loyal hound waiting for a command.
Figures.
I turned my attention back to Gutso just in time to catch the final flourish of his speech.
"So," he said, his voice rising slightly, "who's in?"
A heavy silence followed.
No one moved.
The air hung thick with tension, curiosity, and unspoken doubt. Even Gutso's confident smile wavered for the briefest moment before returning to place.
I couldn't help it—my lips twitched again.
It was all too familiar. The speeches, the manipulation, the illusion of unity. I'd seen it in courts, on battlefields, in kingdoms that rose and fell because someone thought they could control what wasn't meant to be controlled.
And here it was again, wrapped neatly in the body of a boy with green hair.
I let out a quiet breath.
If he wanted to play the leader, fine. But I wasn't about to walk willingly into his web.
Not this time.
Because if there's one thing I'd learned in this twisted world—
Power shared without trust isn't teamwork. It's suicide.
And Gutso's Essence Communal Convergence?
It was suicide disguised as salvation.