I was standing with the rest of the students in the middle of the line, arranged neatly like a row of dolls placed exactly where they belonged. The air inside the hall was slightly warm, but it carried a faint tension—one that only I seemed to notice. We were all waiting for George to tell us what mission we would be undertaking inside the combat arena.
As my eyes moved across their faces one by one, I saw those wide smiles… bright, foolish smiles full of excitement, as if they were heading to a party or a pleasant trip—not to a test that might crush their pride under its heel. They talked, laughed, bragged… everything about them screamed that they had no idea what was truly waiting for them.
As for me, I was just waiting for the moment their expressions would freeze—the moment they'd finally realize that they had been living in a small, comfortable illusion… right before stepping into the real arena.
We didn't wait long before George entered. His heavy steps hit the floor with a force that made the whole place quiet down, as if his presence alone was enough to silence everyone. He stopped in the center, lifted his head toward us, and let his eyes sweep across the group like a cold blade.
He spoke loudly and steadily:
"The task you will undertake is very simple… survive for only five minutes inside the arena."
The words only five minutes flipped the entire atmosphere upside down.
The moment the students heard it, shock flickered across their faces… but only for a second. It was quickly replaced by mocking laughter, as if George had insulted them with something beneath their level.
One student stepped forward and shouted:
"Are you kidding us?! Just five minutes?!"
George looked at him with chilling calm and replied:
"No."
The room froze for another second. But soon another student stepped in, slapped his friend's shoulder, and laughed:
"Does he think we're weak? Five minutes? I could stay in there for a whole day!"
Soon the rest joined in, bragging loudly, voices overlapping, each one boasting about how long he could last—never remembering how they had failed in training far easier than this.
George slowly shook his head, looking at them as though they were a group of foolish children who believed the world was some kind of video game. Then suddenly, his voice cracked through the hall like a whip:
"Silence."
Every sound died instantly.
He continued:
"You're idiots. You have no idea what areas affected by the rift are like. You won't last even a minute. You're nothing but insects walking toward your deaths while laughing… now shut your mouths and prepare to enter."
His words weren't just a scolding; they were a slap—one that erased every trace of arrogance in seconds.
A heavy silence settled over the hall, so deep the air itself felt heavier. Even breathing became loud.
Then suddenly, a voice behind me broke the stillness:
"What do you think about what he said?"
I froze. I knew that voice before even turning.
When I looked back, I found the last person I wanted to talk to. Just having him behind me made my back tighten.
I answered quietly, trying not to show any discomfort:
"I don't know. Maybe he's right… maybe not. I really don't know."
He stared at me for a long moment, almost as if he were trying to read something inside me. He was thinking… far more than I wanted him to.
And with every passing second, my urge to walk away grew stronger. So I stepped forward just slightly, cutting off whatever he was about to say.
But it seemed he still had something in mind; he raised his head calmly as if he were about to ask another question—
—before George's voice ripped through the hall again:
"Everyone, enter now."
It wasn't just an order.
It was the beginning.
As soon as I heard it, a shiver raced through my entire body. I couldn't control it. My hands began to sweat, and my temperature rose suddenly even though the hall was cold.
Zion noticed my state. He moved closer and asked:
"Are you okay?"
I looked at him, trying to steady my voice:
"I'm fine…"
But inside, everything in me was screaming the opposite.
…Damn it. How could anyone be fine when they knew what awaited inside that arena?
How could I be fine, knowing that five minutes might become the longest five minutes of our lives?
---
We stood in front of that strange crack in the air—a tear that looked like the edge of a blade slicing through space. None of the team members managed to hide their tension after George's speech… except for one: Zion.
I stared at him quietly. He stood there, unmoving, as if nothing around him mattered. No fear. No hesitation.
I used to think I hated that kind of person—the "main character" type who excels at everything. But the truth was… I didn't hate him. I was just quietly jealous.
How could someone always be so composed? So skilled? So perfect?
"What am I even thinking…?"
I cursed myself. This wasn't the time. It was just the stress twisting my thoughts.
The instructor's voice cut through:
"Are you all ready?"
Everyone nodded, their tension showing through their attempts to appear calm.
"Good… you may enter."
---
We stepped toward the crack. It felt like approaching a split in the sky—a shifting, unstable surface that trembled like disturbed water. As we passed through it, I felt the air itself breaking around me, layer after layer, as if we were pushing through an unseen barrier.
And the moment my foot touched the ground on the other side… everything changed.
A sudden, overwhelming sensation surged through my body. A suffocating heat—not heat that burns the skin, but something deeper, heavier—pressed against my bones, my muscles, my very core.
It wasn't normal pain. It felt as though my whole body was rejecting this place.
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't come out. The air refused to move.
My knees buckled, and my heart hammered violently.
I lifted my head with difficulty, searching for the exit… but the crack we'd entered from had vanished completely.
Only a wall of mist and emptiness remained.
I looked around desperately for any way out… but there was none. The place was sealed, suffocating, endless.
Then my eyes fell on my teammates. They were writhing, struggling, trying to scream but unable to. One by one, they collapsed, losing consciousness as though the place was draining their strength itself.
And Zion…
He was standing.
Calm.
Unaffected.
Not even a flicker in his expression.
That was when I realized…
I couldn't fall.
I couldn't allow myself to faint. Something deep inside told me that if I lost consciousness here, I might never wake up again.
I clung to that thought, desperately holding onto it like a lifeline.
Just when I felt myself slipping, losing control… the image of my brother flashed in my mind—his calm face, his small smile, the promise I made.
"I can't pass out… not now."
I fought the dizziness, fought the creeping darkness at the edges of my vision. I tried to endure—second by second—and every second stretched out like a whole year.
But a body has limits.
The world slowly began to fade. Sounds grew distant. Colors dimmed. Everything started dissolving like fading light.
Inside, I whispered:
"I'm sorry… I couldn't keep my promise…"
And then everything went dark.