Outside the Trial Room
The students still stood on the field, their expressions a mix of exhaustion, worry, and anticipation. One by one, many had entered the trial room, only to return bruised, battered, some barely able to stand. Rumors spread quickly — the room wasn't just a test of skill but a brutal endurance gauntlet.
Ray's mind raced, recalling memories from his previous life. If I remember correctly, he thought, I went through that trial once before—and came out badly injured. The principal later told us the real purpose wasn't the completion but to see who could last the longest.
B's voice suddenly cut into his thoughts, sharp and direct. Hey, kid, I think this trial isn't about defeating it. It's about survival, endurance.
Ray nodded in agreement before B could finish. "Yes, I figured it out too," he replied quietly.
B smirked in his mind. Well, you're smarter than I thought. So tell me—how long do you think you can last?
Ray laughed silently to himself. Last? I'm planning to finish it. Survive isn't enough—completion is the goal.
Just as their quiet exchange faded, the instructor's sharp voice rang out across the ground. "Ray! Your turn!"
Suddenly, all eyes locked onto him—especially the group from the four great families. They watched with keen interest, whispering among themselves. What made this boy, a newcomer with a mysterious background, so special?
Ray took a steadying breath and strode forward, his steps calm but purposeful. The murmurs swelled behind him as he approached the trial room door and passed through, disappearing into the unknown darkness beyond.
Meanwhile, on a raised platform overlooking the grounds, Principal Grey Ford turned to the instructors gathered with him—four women and three men, all experts with cold, analytical eyes.
"Pay close attention to this boy," Ford instructed, voice low and serious. "He's someone you'll be competing for in the future." His gaze tightened as he added, "Keep track of everything he does."
One of the female instructors, her gaze sharp but amused, chuckled softly. "A handsome little guy, isn't he? I wonder what it is about him that caught your interest so much, Principal."
Ford shot her a quick, unreadable glance but didn't answer. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on the trial's entrance, where Ray had just disappeared.
Ray stepped cautiously into the trial chamber, his senses immediately overwhelmed by the strange shifting of reality. The world around him blurred and reformed, revealing an empty, alien space with two imposing doors at its center—one bathed in deep blue, the other glowing a fiery red. The atmosphere felt thick and charged, as if the very air pulsed with unseen power.
B's voice echoed softly in Ray's mind. "This place… it isn't ordinary. It's a whole other world crafted by the power of an ancient artifact. This trial will push you far beyond anything normal."
Ray's brow furrowed, surprised. "An artifact... never heard of that."
"Few have," B replied calmly. "Just know it's why this trial is different. Be ready."
As Ray focused on the two doors, a small ethereal entity suddenly appeared between them. Its glow was soft but carried an undeniable authority.
"Greetings, challenger," the entity announced, voice smooth yet serious. "This is the game of choice—the first trial awaits. Behind these doors lie two paths: one leads to life and the continuation of your journey; the other to death, where you must face a fearsome entity in battle. Only one percent of challengers survive. Choose carefully."
Ray's mind raced, memories flooding back from his last life. There are no separate paths, he thought sharply. It's just a test of reaction—the doors represent chance and choice, but both lead to the same destination. Last time I failed because I was too weak. This time will be different.
He laughed softly. "So it's a game of mind and nerve. I'll choose the red door."
The entity's voice deepened slightly. "Red is the color of danger and blood. Many fall choosing it. Are you sure?"
"I'm damn sure," Ray said firmly, pushing the door open.
Barely fifteen seconds had passed before Ray found himself facing a figure standing silently in the dim chamber beyond. The man held a sword loosely in his hand. Though human in form, something was decidedly off: his eyes burned a blazing red and his presence radiated a cold, deadly power.
Without hesitation, Ray summoned a small bolt of lightning into his palm. The air around crackled with energy—then, in an instant, the figure vanished.
B's voice warned urgently, "The soul you face is highly skilled. Be careful."
Ray barely had time to react as something whistled out of the shadows—a severed hand flying with terrifying speed. The blade sliced through the lightning crackling in his palm, and in a sudden instant, searing, scorching pain exploded through his arm. His hand was gone.
The shock hit him like a thunderclap, white-hot agony flooding his nerves. He dropped to his knees, collapsing as his vision swam and blurred. Blood spurted fiercely from the damaged limb, hot against his skin. Every breath burned, sharp like knives stabbing his lungs.
Pain overwhelmed instinct. Before his mind could process the loss, before fear settled in, disbelief burned brighter. How had his hand been severed so effortlessly? He was meant to be ready. He should have seen it coming.
The crimson-eyed figure loomed over him like a merciless predator, eyes glowing with cold disdain, regarding him not as a threat, but a mere insect crushed underfoot. Ray's body trembled, not just with pain, but rage igniting beneath the torment: This fight had only just begun.