"Filthy trash, die."
A boot slammed into the ribs of the young man curled on the ground. Another followed, then another, each impact dull and wet against flesh already too bruised to feel fresh pain. He folded tighter, arms wrapped around his head, knees pulled to his chest, trying to become smaller, harder to break.
Dust rose from the stone floor with every kick, stinging his eyes and throat.
"Die, die, die…"
The chant came from the leader of the group, a boy his age with a sneer carved permanently into his face. He kicked harder than the others, like he had something personal to prove. "Nobody will miss you, trash."
Laughter echoed through the corridor. Someone spat on the ground beside Jay's face. Warm blood trickled from his lip, pooling under his cheek.
Then a sharp voice cut through the noise.
"Hey! You! What are you doing?"
All movement froze.
The voice came from the first exit door, half-open and flooded with pale afternoon light. A young man stood there, tall and straight despite the tension in his shoulders. His grayish hair caught the light like dull silver, and his blue eyes were wide with shock.
"Damn… it's the family head's son," one of the bullies muttered, suddenly looking less brave.
The leader clicked his tongue, jaw tightening. For a moment it looked like he might say something reckless. Instead he stepped back with a scowl.
"Let's go," he said. "Doesn't matter. One day the old man will throw him away too. After all… he's just another piece of trash."
The others snorted and laughed, relief bleeding into cruelty. "Yeah, enjoy your protection while it lasts, prince," one of them added before turning away.
Their footsteps faded as they exited through the second door, their laughter lingering like a bad smell.
Silence rushed in.
The gray-haired boy sprinted forward and dropped to his knees beside the injured one.
"Jay! Are you okay?" His voice shook despite his attempt to sound calm.
Jay let out a long, tired breath and slowly uncurled. Every movement looked like it cost him something. He glanced down at his arms, already swelling, purple bruises blooming under pale skin.
"Yeah… I'm fine," he muttered hoarsely. "Nothing new." He squinted up at him. "But what are you doing here, Nathan? Don't tell me…"
Nathan gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. The sound didn't belong in a place like this.
"Yeah… My father sent me to the selection test too," he admitted. "I mean, I'm Grade 5 like you, right? It would look weird if I didn't go."
Jay's eyes widened. For a second he just stared, like he hadn't heard correctly. Then his hand dragged down his face.
"Damn it…" he hissed. "That heartless bastard… how could he do this to you?"
Nathan blinked, confusion replacing his forced smile. "What? Do what? It's just the test."
Jay looked away, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. "Nothing," he said flatly.
Nathan clearly didn't believe him, but he didn't push. Not yet.
The Selection Test. Most of the candidates still thought it was an opportunity. Jay knew it was an execution.
After the apocalypse, a man named Herdan Orlen, a Legendary-grade Awakened, decided his family would become something more than a bloodline. He wanted an elite dynasty, one composed only of Awakened ranked Grade 2 to Legendary. In a modern world where guilds ruled power structures, building a clan like some medieval lord should have seemed absurd.
Except it worked.
Generation after generation, the Orlen family continued producing high-grade Awakened, even after Herdan's death. People began whispering that the Orlen bloodline was blessed by the gods themselves.
Nathan had grown up hearing those stories.
Jay had grown up seeing what they hid.
Officially, Orlen children were presented to the world at eighteen, after years of "private training" to ensure they would debut at peak strength. The ceremony was famous. Celebrated. Televised.
But the truth was buried deep beneath the estate grounds.
Presenting them at eighteen wasn't about training. It was about disposal.
Each year, in absolute secrecy, the low-ranked children were sent into a remote valley crawling with monsters. No rescue teams. No observers. No survivors.
They called it the Selection Test.
The weak believed they had a chance. They trained, hoped, dreamed of earning recognition, never realizing their fate had been sealed the moment their rank was measured.
Jay understood perfectly.
In the entire history of the Orlen family, no low-rank Awakened had ever passed the test.
None had ever returned.
None had even seen the world beyond the valley's borders.
And now Nathan… kind, clueless Nathan… had been sent there too.
Jay closed his eyes briefly, something dark and helpless twisting in his chest.
"Idiot," he whispered under his breath, though whether he meant Nathan, the family head, or himself was impossible to tell.
{All Grade 5 and Grade 4 candidates, please gather in the main hall.}
The announcement crackled through the overhead speakers, sharp enough to make both Jay and Nathan flinch.
Jay swore under his breath. "Great. Imagine going to the test right after getting beaten half to death. I'll probably die on the front line before I even see a monster."
Nathan let out a short laugh, the kind people use when they don't know what else to do. "Wow. That's some dark humor."
Jay pushed himself to his feet slowly, favoring one side. His expression was flat, eyes dull and serious.
"It's not humor."
Nathan blinked. "Whaaaat???"
Jay didn't answer. He simply started walking, forcing his stiff body forward. After a moment, Nathan hurried after him.
They entered the main hall together.
More than a dozen teenagers were already gathered there, scattered in uneasy clusters. The room was large, high-ceilinged, and far too bright, as if someone thought good lighting could make the situation less grim. Nobody was laughing. Voices stayed low, tense, brittle.
Jay's gaze swept across the room with quiet precision, counting.
"Seventeen," he murmured. "And if I remember correctly, there are only three Grade 4s this year. So… fourteen Grade 5s."
Nathan glanced around too, clearly trying to verify. "You counted that fast?"
Jay didn't reply. His eyes had already locked onto a group near the far wall.
Three youths stood together, posture straight, arms crossed, faces carved with smug confidence. They weren't whispering like the others. They weren't nervous. They looked… bored. Disdainful. Like they were already above this.
Jay tilted his chin slightly. "Found them. The three Grade 4s."
Nathan's eyes widened as if someone had just pointed out a trio of apex predators. "What? Where are they?"
Before Jay could answer, the speakers crackled again.
{Please proceed directly to the bus in the courtyard.}
A ripple of movement passed through the hall. Conversations died. Shoes scuffed against polished floors. No one wanted to be first, but no one dared be last.
Jay inhaled slowly through his nose, then let the breath out in a controlled stream, like he was steadying himself before a fall.
"Well," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else, "the long-awaited moment is finally here."
Nathan swallowed. Up close, Jay could hear it.
"Hey… Jay," Nathan said, voice smaller than usual. "We'll be fine, right? It's just a test."
Jay didn't look at him.
Across the room, one of the Grade 4s smirked as he walked past them, shoulder-checking a smaller boy hard enough to make him stumble. No apology. Not even a glance back.
Jay watched the doors to the courtyard swing open, bright daylight spilling across the floor like something merciless.
"Yeah," he said at last, his tone unreadable. "Just a test."