The antechamber was a mess of raw human panic. Some were sobbing, others whispering prayers, while most were frantically forming factions. In the face of the unknown, they clung to familiarity, seeking safety in numbers. I stood alone. As always.
All eyes were on the gilded door at the far end of the hall, the divine room where the Goddess waited. No one dared approach. Fear shackled their feet. They waited for someone else to make the first move.
So I stepped forward.
The noise died instantly. Every gaze snapped to me. Whispers followed my path, but I ignored them. Without a word, I reached the door and pushed it open.
The room glowed with a warm, celestial light. At its center, the Goddess of Light, Liora, waited with an ageless, serene grace. She smiled gently.
"Hero, come forth," her voice resonated in my mind. "I will bless you with one random blessing."
I walked up to her. As she placed her hand on my head, an otherworldly energy surged into me. Pain, white-hot and absolute, shot through every nerve. My head felt like it was splitting open; my limbs threatened to tear apart from the pressure. Then, just as suddenly, the pain vanished.
"All done," she said, her voice calm. "You have been gifted a skill. Let me check... Your skill is Necromancer. It allows you to bring back the dead—any beings you kill can be reanimated and added to your army. They will obey your commands without question. However, every power has its limits. You will come to understand them once you use it."
She stepped back. "Now, onto your question. You may ask one."
I didn't hesitate. I had a plan. "Goddess," I said calmly, "how many people will make it out of this mess?"
She smiled, a tired kind of smile. "Straight to the point, I see. Very well. Only six of you will survive. There are six kingdoms, and each will receive one hero. That's all I can say. No more questions. I have many to attend."
With a dismissive wave, she turned away. I walked out of the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind me, sealing the fate of everyone outside.
The scene I returned to was even more chaotic. In the short time I was gone, panic had driven people into large, unwieldy herds. I saw one group of at least forty people huddled together, a mob clinging to a false sense of security. Every single person had been watching the door. My emergence silenced them.
I could feel their stares—their curiosity, their envy, their fear.
'Necromancer,' I thought. 'A powerful skill, but I have no army. I can't fight head-on. In this early phase, I'm the weakest among them.' I needed power. I needed pawns.
Stepping forward, I faced the crowd. "I know the future that awaits us," I began, my voice carrying across the hall. "I know the chaos that will follow, and I know how to survive."
They listened, some with doubt, others with desperation.
"The teams you've formed?" I gestured dismissively at the mob of forty. "Useless. A complete waste of time. Most of you won't make it, and clinging to your friends won't change that."
Murmurs broke out. Confusion. Anger.
Someone shouted, "How do you know all this?!"
I stared him down. "It doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that I, along with my team, will survive. The rest of you? You'll die here."
The room went cold.
'I didn't lie,' I thought. 'Only six will survive. I'm just preparing for that.'
"I am forming a team," I announced. "I need nine more people. Now, before you question the number, let me be perfectly clear. The trials ahead will be brutal. There will be casualties. I am not looking for ten people who will all survive; I am looking for a team with enough members to act as a buffer against the inevitable losses we will face. Some of you may die protecting the rest. That is the price of a chance."
I let that sink in.
"And let me be even clearer," I continued, my voice dropping. "If, by some miracle, all ten of us make it to the final stage, we will have to fight amongst ourselves for the final spots. Do not join me expecting friendship. This is an alliance of convenience. I am offering you the best possible odds to be one of the last ones standing. Nothing more. If you trust me and want to live, come now."
Silence. Thick and absolute.
Then, a girl stepped forward. Shy, hesitant. Erica. From college. She kept to herself, much like I did. "I… I'll come," she murmured.
Right behind her came another. Confident, graceful—Masha, the student council president. She stood beside Erica, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Where she goes, I go," Masha said simply.
That triggered a shift. A girl with short silver hair and a sharp gaze joined next. Talia, the fencer. Then Rina, the top biology student, soft-spoken but brilliant.
Five more boys followed:
Jin, a martial arts practitioner and national-level competitor.
Edgar, an engineering student with a tactical mind.
Juno, a quiet, artistic guy who still carried a sketchpad.
Eric, known for his endurance and athleticism.
Neil, a sci-fi nerd with an encyclopedic memory of survival tactics.
They all stood behind me, waiting.
I sighed internally. 'This is a weak team… for now. But that's the point. I'll take ten… and only six will make it. I won't allow emotions to cloud my decisions. The weak will be eliminated. That's the law of this world now.'
'No mercy. No attachments.' This is survival.
As my team solidified, the others rushed to the goddess. Each returned with a skill and a secret. Some kept their powers quiet; others looked smug or shaken. A few wasted their question asking if they could go home. We all knew better now.
But from my own answer—and my recruitment of ten—a new theory spread: Maybe there are more than six spots. Maybe it's ten.
Groups began reforming with that number in mind. Most teams settled around ten people, trying to balance strength with survival odds. Then came the fights—whom to choose, whom to leave. Friends shouted at each other. The social fabric tore apart.
'They're already fracturing,' I noted. 'And the trial hasn't even begun.'