"Wake up."
Ezra tapped Gena's shoulder. She only shifted in her sleep, pulling her coat tighter around her.
"Wake up, Gena." He tapped again; this time harder.
She still didn't move.
Ezra frowned, then grabbed a bowl of water and splashed it over her face.
"Ahh…what the…?!" Gena jerked up, hair sticking to her wet cheeks. She glared at him. "What the hell, Ezra?!"
Ezra looked at her quietly for a moment, then stood, picking up his bag. His belongings were already packed, strapped and ready to go. "We're leaving this place."
"Ehn?" She rubbed her eyes, pouting. "Why can't we just wait until the signal blows? At least then I can sleep a little more."
"Stop complaining and let's go." He tossed her bag to her side. "I already packed what you'll need. Get up."
"Fine, fine," she muttered, dragging herself to her feet. She slung the bag over her shoulder and followed behind him as they stepped out of the small wooden shed.
***
The cold morning air cut through her wet face, making her shiver. Gena stared at Ezra with resentment for disturbing her sleep as they walked, snow crunched under their boots.
"So… where are we going?" she asked.
"Before I met you, I found a spacious place," Ezra replied without looking back. His tone was steady, focused. "I plan on using it to hunt a pack of Silverback Dire Wolves."
Gena froze, her eyes going wide. "What?! Are you crazy? Why would you want to fight those beasts when we could've still been sleeping?!" She stomped her foot, the sound muffled by the snow.
Ezra didn't turn around. "Calm down. I already have a foolproof plan. And it's a good chance for you to learn something about hunting."
"Tsk." Gena puffed her cheeks, sulking. She didn't argue further but kept following.
They walked for hours, through the thinning woods and over frozen ground. Ezra led with steady steps, his boots leaving a faint trail behind. The path had been cut before—marks from when Ezra had first scouted this place. Eventually, they reached their destination.
"Wow…" Gena stopped; eyes wide. The area opened up into a spacious clearing. Tall bamboo trees surrounded it, their leaves blocking most of the sunlight, casting shifting shadows over the snow. The stalks swayed softly, holding bits of falling snow like they were cradling glass.
Her excitement burst through. She spun in place, laughing lightly, her childlike side showing as she ran toward the trees.
Ezra quickly grabbed her collar, pulling her back. "Stop."
"Why? I just wanted to look around," she said, annoyed.
"The problem isn't sightseeing. The problem is this whole place is filled with traps. Unless you want to end up impaled or worse, stay put." His tone was flat.
Her face froze. "Ehn?"
"Sit on that stone." He pointed. "I'll show you where the traps are, so you won't die walking around."
"Okay…" She sat, obedient this time.
Ezra crouched and took a stick, drawing lines and circles into the snow. Each mark represented a trap he had set. His movements were quick and precise, the snow turning into a crude but clear map.
Gena leaned in, watching with amazement. "You… you did all this in one day?"
"Stressful, but yeah." He straightened his back, stretching a little.
"Incredible… And you don't even look that strong or smart." She tilted her head, her eyes flicking to the bamboo weapon strapped to his side. "Also, I've been curious… what's that gun-like thing you've been carrying?"
Ezra pulled it out, holding it with both hands. "This? It's a bamboo gun I made."
Her eyes sparkled. "So cool! How many shots can it fire?"
"Only one. The rope I used for the trigger can't handle more than that. After one shot, I need to reset it manually." He tapped her forehead lightly. "Anyway, enough questions. Do you know what's most important to survive the trials ahead?"
Gena rubbed her forehead, pouting. "I don't know. I don't even know what the next trials will look like."
"To me," Ezra said, walking toward a nearby tall tree, "it's being able to control your body…knowing your center of gravity."
"Center of gravity? What's that supposed to mean?"
"You said I don't have a bulky body, right? But think about it—how do you think I managed to handle everything so far, despite being weaker than Marcus and the others?"
Gena thought for a moment, her right hand holding her chin. "When you put it that way… you're right. They trained too, but you beat them like you already had more experience. So, is it because of this 'center of gravity' thing?"
"Not exactly. But it makes up for weakness. If mastered, even a fat person can flip like a trained acrobat."
Her face twisted. "Wait, isn't that what circus people do? Don't tell me you expect me to turn into a circus clown just to survive."
"Idiot." Ezra flicked a snowball at her face.
"Ouch!" She held her cheek, glaring.
"It's about agility. Reflexes. Countering throws. Taking aerial advantage. Surviving close combat." His tone carried a weight, like a teacher drilling a student—or a soldier lecturing a recruit.
"I don't get most of what you said… but I know it'll be hard and annoying." She sighed, her shoulders drooping.
Ezra shook his head. "This will be difficult." He muttered under his breath as he walked away.
"What was that? Where are you going?" Gena ran after him.
"I'm starting to think you're a lost cause," he said without looking back.
"Lost cause?! Hey, I'm not! I'm just… not used to this lifestyle yet. I'm still learning. You can't expect me not to complain!"
Her words were cut off as Ezra suddenly raised a hand to her lips, shushing her. His eyes sharpened.
"What?" Gena's heart skipped.
"I hear something." His voice dropped low.
"I don't hear anything…" She looked around nervously, snow crunching under her shifting boots.
Ezra's silence made the air heavier. Gena's anxiety grew. She grabbed the back of his coat, her hands trembling.
"Don't tell me… is it those Wolves?" Her voice quivered.
"No. Not wolves." Ezra pushed her back, then dashed toward a tree. His movements were sharp and quick as he climbed, balancing on a branch. His eyes scanned the distance, listening.
"…Humans," he said after a pause.
Gena let out a breath, shoulders loosening. "Humans… thank goodness."
"Let's check it out." Ezra dropped from the tree, grabbing his dagger and bamboo gun.
"What do you mean check?!" Gena's voice rose. But Ezra was already moving, sprinting toward the sound. She cursed under her breath and chased after him.
***
"Why are we even going there?!"
"You remember I said I needed partners?" His voice was calm even while running.
"Yes, but… can't you wait until the test ends?!"
"Gena," he shot her a look, "you think people will trust me easily? Especially with Pamela targeting me?"
She bit her lip. "…So, you're going to save them, make them trust you."
"Pretty much." His face was expressionless.
"Tsk. You're even more wicked than Lady Vera," she muttered.
The noise grew louder as they reached a thick patch of bushes. Ezra stopped, pulling Gena back. He carefully parted the leaves, revealing the sight beyond.
Gena froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
Her clothes were torn, her skin marked with bruises and scratches that told of a struggle she could not win. She lay on the snow like a broken doll, breath shallow, eyes half-closed, her body trembling faintly. The snow beneath her was stained with dirt and blood
On top of her, a fat boy with greasy brown hair—white strands, pressed her down. His movements were crude, his heavy body smothering her, grinding without care. His black eyes gleamed with a twisted hunger.
Every sound he made was disgusting, each gasp and grunt scratching at the ears like rusted metal. The others didn't look away. They laughed, mocked, and watched, treating Mary's pain as if it were entertainment.
Ezra's hand shot out to cover Gena's mouth as she trembled violently beside him. Her wide eyes filled with tears, her body shaking, unable to tear her gaze away from her friend's suffering.
Ezra didn't speak. His expression went cold.
On the other side, Peter was being held down by two boys. Their leader sat lazily on his goon, a dagger spinning between his fingers. He had black hair, black eyes, and a mocking grin as he stared at Peter like he was nothing more than a piece of meat.
"You bastard!" Peter screamed, "Leave her alone…!"
A fist smashed into his stomach, silencing him with coughs of blood. Tears streaked his face, his body shaking.
A lackey smirked at the fat boy. "Don't you think she's already dead?"
The fat boy's body shook with disgusting pants. "Ah…Ah…Ahh… I don't care. Ah…Ah…Ahh The body's still warm. So, I'll enjoy it while I can. Hahaha… Haaa!"
The others laughed with him.
Gena turned to plead with Ezra, only to find he was gone.
Her heart lurched when she spotted him — Ezra, standing against seven of them.
"Oi. Fat-sack." Ezra's voice came out low and flat. "Get off her."
The fat boy froze, then stumbled back as if someone had shoved him. Ezra's eyes went straight to Mary. For a second, he looked like he might break — not with tears, he looked at her with pity. He knew she was like Gena, emotional, defenseless and scared. His fist curled until his knuckles whitened.
The goons fell silent. Peter slumped to the ground, coughing, staring at Ezra as if he'd seen a ghost. The leader's face folded into annoyance. He glanced at Ezra's two-toned hair and sneered, like he'd found a stupid insect in his shoe. "You've got to be kidding me…"
He rubbed his face slow and loud, then pointed the dagger at Ezra. "A lowly insect dares stand before me without fear? That's bad." His voice was oily. "Prey should wait until the predator decides to hunt. Be patient, lowborn. Go back to where you were hiding" he waved to his goon to continue their fun.
Ezra's eyes narrowed. He said nothing. The name left his mouth like a stone. "Felix."
Felix halted, blinked. "Huh?"
A lackey barked. "How dare you say Sir Felix name without respect, you trash! Want to die?!"
Ezra did not look at the boy. He looked at Felix. "It's the last day of this trial. We should all be resting instead of fighting. just hand them over and I will live in peace." His tone was plain.
Felix laughed at first, slow and soft. Then it swelled and cracked. "This trash is making demands?" He stepped forward, all teeth and pretense. He leaned over Peter. "Do you know who I am?!"
The dagger moved. Peter screamed. Blood hit the snow in quick, ugly pats. Felix shoved Peter down and drove the blade again and again, laughing while it happened. The boys cheered like an audience. The sound should have ruined Ezra. It didn't. Something inside him went colder. The cold was not outside. It was under his skin.
Gena's hand flew to her mouth. Her shoulders shook. Tears fell. She could not look away.
Felix straightened, wiping Peter's blood across his cheek as if it were a badge. His grin widened. "I'm the grandson of the top Canon Gun Alchemist. My father is an Alchemist General. I'm Ashenlocke's future. Nobody dares touch me. And you? You dare make demands?"
Ezra stared. The world around them, muffled. The laughter thinned. His voice came out small at first, then harder, closer to a threat than a choice. "Do I look like I care?" He took a step forward. His hands were steady. His face was empty.
Felix's lip curled. He raised his dagger. "Two choices. Crawl to my feet and kill yourself licking my boot—or my boys beat you half-dead and throw you to the wolves." He spat the last words like a joke. "Your choice."
Ezra let out a short, hollow chuckle. It sounded like wind in a ruined house. "Just like Vera, huh?" He smiled for a breath — a small, cruel curve. Then the smile fell away. The words that followed were small and terrible. Low, sure, sharp. "Choose."
The clearing dropped into a colder silence. Snow fell, slow and soft. His voice cut through it like a shard. "Die repenting… or die regretting."