Hyun-Jae woke to the echo of a thunderous voice reverberating through his skull. At first, the words were muffled, blurring together like distant waves crashing against rocks. His mind was still foggy from sleep, and he rubbed his eyes, groaning as he tried to sit up.
The voice boomed again, this time sharper, clearer, impossible to ignore."PARTICIPANTS. REPORT TO THE TRAINING FACILITY. IMMEDIATELY."
Hyun-Jae winced, clutching the side of his head as if it would dull the sheer force of the command. It didn't feel like sound. It felt… deeper, like the words were being carved directly into his mind.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his heart thumping faster than it should for someone who had just woken up. "So much for an alarm clock," he muttered.
As he stood, something in the corner caught his eye. A glowing circular platform sat flush with the floor, humming faintly with energy. He froze. That hadn't been there last night or at least, he was certain he would've noticed it if it was.
"Was I that tired…?" he mumbled, stepping closer. The surface shimmered faintly, the same kind of light he had seen in the other teleporters yesterday. Except this one was right in his room.
He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very small in this place. The Celestials were making it impossible for him to forget: everything here was beyond his control and very much in theirs.
Hyun-Jae exhaled slowly, bracing himself. "Training facility, huh? Guess I don't have much of a choice."
He stepped onto the pad. It hummed louder, light swallowing his body whole. His room vanished in an instant.
The world snapped back into focus with a blinding flash of light, and Hyun-Jae stumbled forward, landing on solid ground. His eyes widened as he took in the sheer scale of the place. The ceiling stretched so high it felt endless, disappearing into a hazy glow. No matter which direction he turned, the walls were nowhere in sight and it was like standing in an open field, except enclosed in something immeasurably larger than any stadium he had ever seen.
Everywhere around him, the air buzzed with noise and movement. Creatures of all shapes and sizes filled the facility, their voices blending into a low roar. Some towered like living mountains, their footsteps shaking the ground. Others skittered on too many legs, or floated, their bodies shimmering with energy. Hyun-Jae's stomach twisted, he still wasn't used to seeing them, and each new form reminded him just how alien this world was.
Then, out of the sea of unfamiliarity, he spotted something familiar—humans. A large group had gathered off to one side of the facility, clustered together like they were clinging to each other for comfort. Relief washed over him, and without thinking twice, he started making his way toward them.
He scanned the crowd, eyes darting around in search of one face. For a moment, panic gnawed at him, what if he didn't find her? But then, he saw her hand shooting into the air. Soo-Min was waving at him, a grin spread wide across her face.
Hyun-Jae felt a small weight lift from his chest. He quickened his steps and slipped into the row where she was sitting, dropping down beside her.
"I saved you a seat," she said with a playful smirk, leaning closer. "And I don't even get a thank you?"
Hyun-Jae rubbed the back of his neck, his ears burning red. "Uh… thanks," he muttered, barely above a whisper.
Soo-Min tilted her head, the grin never leaving her lips. "That's it? No flowers, no bow, no grand gesture of appreciation?"
Hyun-Jae stiffened, his words tripping over themselves. "Wh–Why would I? You're making it sound like-"
Before she could push him further, the entire facility shuddered. A deep hum filled the air as a massive structure materialized above the crowd, a screen so enormous it seemed to hang in the air itself, blotting out the glow from above. The chatter across the room died instantly, leaving only uneasy silence.
The screen flickered, static rippling across it before stabilizing into an image. There he was, the same celestial who had transported them to this realm yesterday. His towering frame was draped in a dark mantle, his sharp, angular features as unyielding as stone.
The celestial's gaze swept over the crowd, his golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Then, with a heavy sigh, he leaned forward, the sound echoing through the massive hall as if it came from the walls themselves.
It wasn't the sigh of someone tired, it was the exhale of a teacher already exasperated with a room full of children.
The celestial's voice rolled out, deep and commanding, each word vibrating through the walls and floor of the facility.
"The reason you were called here today," he began, "is to address the matter of unfairness. Some of you may have already noticed that not all of your realm's participants are present in this chamber. The reason is simple: those absent already possess the skills, instincts, and experience necessary to survive in the tournament. They have no need for this… adjustment."
Murmurs broke out immediately. Hyun-Jae glanced around, seeing humans whispering nervously to each other, while other species shifted uncomfortably, their unease echoing his own.
The celestial raised a hand, and silence fell like a blade.
"Meanwhile," he continued, his tone edged with impatience, "you do not. That is why you are here, why you will be given what you lack."
Hyun-Jae's mind worked quickly, matching the celestial's words with what he'd noticed since arriving. He hadn't seen any of Kharvos's kind, the Veylari, inside the facility. In fact, several of the stronger, stranger-looking species he'd passed in the plaza yesterday weren't here either. His stomach sank.
So that's it… he realized. They're already considered more advanced. Strong enough to survive. Maybe even strong enough to help our realm win.
He tightened his grip on the water bottle he still carried from earlier, his throat dry as the weight of just how far behind they were pressed down on him.
The celestial folded his hands behind his back, his stern eyes sweeping over the crowd.
"I will put it in simple terms for you all," he said, his voice resonating with quiet authority. "Every realm, every world, every creature that exists in this vast expanse is bound by a spiritual current. This current connects you all, whether you realize it or not. It is called Etherea."
The word seemed to hum in the air, vibrating like a string plucked on an unseen instrument. Whispers rippled through the crowd some curious, others fearful.
"Etherea is the hidden essence that dwells within every living being," he continued. "Even in the weakest of you, there is a spark. Left dormant, it changes nothing. But… with the right stimulus, it can be awakened. Strengthened. Shaped into something that can keep you alive in what is to come."
Hyun-Jae leaned forward slightly, hanging on every word. He remembered the officer back home telling him to spend as much time with his family as he could, the look in his mother's eyes when she begged him to come back alive. And now, hearing this he knew this … Etherea might be their only chance.
The celestial's gaze sharpened, his tone firm. "You will soon undergo this awakening. What lies dormant in you will either rise or it will crush you. Whether you stand or fall… that is no concern of mine. What matters is balance. Only then will this contest be fair."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
The celestial's eyes swept across the hall, cold and sharp.
"You doubt. You question. Then allow me to show you the gap between your kind… and mine."
He didn't gesture, didn't summon light, didn't even raise his voice. Instead, something invisible pressed down on the room.
It was subtle at first, like the air had grown thicker, heavier. But within moments it became unbearable. Hyun-Jae's chest seized as though an iron weight was crushing his lungs. His vision wavered, his knees buckled, and his hands slammed against the cold floor to keep from collapsing completely.
All around him, people cried out, choking and gagging, some curling up on the ground as though their bodies had betrayed them. Others clawed at their own throats in blind panic. The sound of hundreds struggling for breath filled the vast facility.
What… is this? Hyun-Jae's mind screamed, but even thoughts felt heavy under the pressure. He could barely lift his head, but when he forced his eyes upward, the celestial stood untouched, calm, and terrifyingly indifferent.
"This," the celestial said evenly, his voice rolling over them like a decree, "is a droplet. A mere trace of what flows through me. If such a small release crushes you…" His gaze narrowed. "Then you would not survive even the opening breath of the tournament."
Hyun-Jae's arms quivered violently, his throat convulsing as though strangled by unseen hands. He wanted to collapse, but something in him screamed to resist. Don't fall. Not here. Not now. His nails scraped against the floor as he fought to stay upright.
The pressure did not lift. It only lingered, suffocating, smothering. And as the crowd writhed in agony, the celestial's eyes glimmered faintly, as though this was only the beginning.
The celestial's gaze swept across the crowd like a judge delivering sentence. His lips curled slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was amusement or disdain.
"Perhaps not all of you are hopeless," he said, voice ringing with cold authority. "A small percentage of you still stand, though barely. And fewer still remain upright without strain. Those are the ones that will succeed. The rest of you…" His eyes flickered toward the groaning, gasping mass. "…are yet to prove you deserve to live."
Hyun-Jae's body trembled against the invisible weight. His palms were slick with sweat, nails digging into the polished floor as he tried to push himself up. Every muscle screamed in protest, his ribs straining as though they might snap under the crushing force.
"Stand, if you can," the celestial continued. His tone was utterly detached, like a teacher assigning a cruel lesson. "Withstand this pressure for five minutes without fainting… or dying. Do so, and you will awaken too.
Above the crowd, the massive screen flickered. A bold countdown appeared.
5:00
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the rasp of desperate breathing. The numbers ticked down.
4:59… 4:58…
Hyun-Jae's teeth ground together as he tried to steady himself. His arms buckled, his face nearly pressed to the floor. Five minutes? Like this? I'll never
The thought was drowned out by the sound of someone collapsing nearby. A boy's body hit the floor with a thud, his eyes rolled back. Then another scream cut through the air as a girl coughed blood and crumpled. The attendants lining the walls did not move to help. They only watched, faces impassive, as if this was routine.
Hyun-Jae forced his gaze up through blurred vision. Around the crowd, he could see them, figures still standing, some hunched and shaking, others upright and steady as if the pressure were nothing. He envied them, hated them, but also clung to the thought: If they can do it… so can I.
His arms quivered. His throat burned. And the timer kept ticking.
4:32… 4:31… 4:30…
A cough tore through the room as another participant dropped, convulsing under the invisible weight. The celestial's eyes tracked them briefly, but his expression never changed. His voice cut through the suffocating air like a cold blade:
"Do not help them. If you interfere now, you cripple them for later. A hand extended here is a death sentence in the real trial. Let them rise… or let them die."
The words hit Hyun-Jae's ears faintly, muffled beneath the roaring of blood in his head. His thoughts were a haze, scattered and broken. He could barely hear his own gasping breaths, but through the fog one command rooted itself in his mind like an anchor:
Survive. Just survive this.
The timer glared above.
2:12… 2:11… 2:10…
Every second was an eternity. His muscles screamed with each twitch, his bones felt like they might splinter at the slightest movement. He dug his fingers into the floor as if he could carve strength from the cold surface itself. His vision shook, dark spots crowding the edges.
Somewhere near him, a guttural cry turned into silence. Another body slumped to the ground. The attendants still did not move.
1:03… 1:02… 1:01…
Hyun-Jae's lungs felt like they were filled with molten lead. Each inhale was a war, each exhale a knife dragging across his throat. He tried to block it all out the screams, the collapses, even the trembling of his own limbs. His mind narrowed down to a single, burning word that kept pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Survive.
0:13… 0:12… 0:11…
His vision blurred completely. His head felt like it was going to split in two. His body was no longer obeying him, only instinct kept him clinging to consciousness.
0:03… 0:02… 0:01…
And then—
The crushing weight vanished.
The sudden release sent Hyun-Jae sprawling onto the floor, his body trembling uncontrollably from the sheer contrast. Air rushed into his lungs in ragged gulps, but he was too exhausted to care if it sounded pathetic.
He lay there, sprawled out, unable to lift even a finger. Relief crashed into him, but it was dulled by exhaustion so deep it hollowed him out. For the first time since it started, he let himself relax, let his body sink into the floor.
I made it, he thought dimly. I… survived.
But he couldn't even be bothered to lift himself up.
Finally, when the trial ended and the pressure vanished like a wave receding from the shore, Hyun-Jae slumped against the cold floor. His body screamed at him to move, but his limbs felt like stone heavy, useless. Every breath was a ragged rasp. He didn't even try to rise, content to just exist in the silence that followed the five longest minutes of his life.
Then, a shadow fell over him. Gentle but steady hands slid under his arm, pulling him upright. His blurred vision cleared just enough to see Soo-Min. She looked maddeningly composed, her hair barely mussed, her posture as calm as if she'd just returned from a stroll. No tremor in her hands, no sweat on her brow. It was as if the celestial's crushing presence had skipped her entirely.
Hyun-Jae stared at her in disbelief. "You… didn't even" His words faltered, his throat raw.
Soo-Min flashed a small, guilty grin, one that was both sheepish and teasing at once. "I would've helped you sooner," she admitted, propping him against his seat, "but that wouldn't have been good for you in the long run." Her eyes softened, though, betraying her concern. "You needed to stand in that storm yourself."
Bamboozled, Hyun-Jae blinked at her, torn between irritation, gratitude, and sheer exhaustion. His head dropped back against the seat as he let out a long breath. "...Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely audible.
She patted his shoulder, firm enough to ground him but gentle enough not to hurt. "I knew you could do it," she said simply, her grin widening with quiet pride.
Hyun-Jae sank deeper into his chair, still reeling from what had just happened, but one thing lodged itself in his mind more stubbornly than the pain in his muscles. Soo-Min's unwavering faith in him.
As Hyun-Jae let himself sink into the seat, the sound of footsteps filled the arena. Attendants dressed in the same silver-white uniforms moved in swiftly, lifting the unconscious bodies scattered across the floor. One by one, they carried the fallen away through shimmering portals that opened and closed without a sound. The sight was eerie, an efficient reminder of how many had failed in just the first trial.
Hyun-Jae turned his head toward Soo-Min, a dozen questions burning in his mind. How had she stayed so calm and composed? Why did she seem have no evidence of exhaustion on her? But before he could voice even one of them, a subtle shift in the air silenced the crowd. The Celestial's presence, though restrained now, was enough to draw every eye back to him.
Floating above the center platform, the being's voice resonated through the hall, neither loud nor quiet, but impossibly inescapable.
"Whatever Etherea lay dormant within you," the Celestial intoned, "has now awakened. To endure my presence is to spark the flame within. You may not feel it yet, but it is there alive." His gaze swept across the survivors, a cold weight pressing against their souls. "Now, we will divide you into ranks according to what has awakened. Your true path begins here."
The massive screen above flickered to life once more, a new sequence of symbols and shifting patterns unfurling across its surface. The survivors straightened, nerves and anticipation sparking through the room.
Hyun-Jae clenched his fists weakly, a shiver crawling up his spine. He still didn't know what had changed inside him, only that something had and hopefully it would help him survive this.
Guided by attendants, the crowd was ushered toward a new wing of the facility, where several massive doors waited. Survivors were funneled into separate lines, each leading into a glowing chamber. Hyun-Jae found himself falling in step behind Soo-Min, her steady back the only anchor keeping his scattered thoughts from unraveling.
As the line inched forward, Hyun-Jae's mind churned and he couldn't help but wonder where he would be placed, and what that would mean for him.
The Celestial raised one hand, and the glow of the screen bathed the chamber in stark light.
"Prepare yourselves," he said, his words final and absolute. "This is just the beginning."