Ezra spent the last days of seclusion surrounded by paper.
Sheets filled the room, layered over each other like fallen leaves. Symbols, half-formed circles, stars that didn't align, lines scratched out and rewritten. Some papers were folded. Some were torn. Some were kept neatly to the side, marked for later reference.
He worked on the gun symbols he planned to use.
Failure came often.
Success came, sometimes.
But satisfaction never stayed.
When his mind felt tight, he moved. When his body felt heavy, he studied again. Physical training, martial movements, and target drills blended into his days until time itself felt unclear.
The routine became simple.
Train. Study. Repeat.
Ezra stood before a tall metal pole. A screen rested in its center, dark and silent.
"This time," he said, clapping his hands once, "Hard mode."
He adjusted the setting.
The pole sank into the floor. The space around him cleared, walls shifting back as openings formed. Small holes appeared along the walls and ceiling.
** Target Practice Initiated. Good luck, Young Master Zara. **
Ezra inhaled slowly.
The air felt heavier, like it was pressing against his skin.
The first doll burst out, already firing an arrow.
Ezra moved before thinking.
His body shifted aside, the arrow slicing past where his head had been. The floor met his foot again just as another arrow came from behind.
He twisted.
Steel rang as he cut the arrow mid-air, spinning with the motion and using the broken shaft to deflect two more arrows from opposite sides.
He stepped back.
A rain of arrows fell in front of him.
Ezra rolled a steel bar across the floor and sprinted after it, weaving between shots. His hearing sharpened. His sight narrowed. Cognis flowed through his body, tightening his muscles, sharpening his reactions.
He reached the bar.
Clap.
A surge of Cognis rose from him. A symbol bloomed across his palm—one circle, two stars—burning faintly as he slammed his hand down.
The steel reshaped.
A revolver formed.
Ezra jumped back as arrows struck the exact spot he had been standing on.
In mid-air, he twisted. Three arrows passed close, one grazing his arm. Sweat flew from his face.
He landed.
Bang.
The first doll shattered.
He turned.
Bang.
The second doll broke before it could fire.
Two arrows came from behind. Ezra spun the revolver, blocking both, then fired again—clean, sharp.
The third doll fell.
He rolled, grabbed an arrow from the floor, and drove it into the last doll's chest.
** Target Practice Ended. **
Ezra exhaled.
He returned to the side of the room buried in research papers. Symbols covered the walls. Formulas overlapped each other.
He checked his watch.
"That was decent."
He wiped his face with a towel and drank water, his throat burning.
"I can enhance my body and control weapons at the same time now," he muttered, clenching his fist.
Time passed slowly.
Ezra sat still, legs crossed, back straight. The room was quiet except for his breathing. Cognis flowed through his body in a steady loop, warm at first, then calm, like water moving under ice.
As his mind settled, old thoughts rose on their own.
Memories he didn't invite.
It was almost time for the next trial.
That alone was enough to bring the familiar feeling back, the pressure in his chest, the tightness in his stomach. Survival. That word pressed against his thoughts again and again. He had enjoyed the month of preparation. For a while, it almost felt like freedom.
Almost.
But it wasn't the Fourth Trial that made his heart sink.
It was the thought that came with it.
I might have to kill again.
The thought sent a chill crawling up his spine. His breathing wavered for a second before he forced it steady. Cognis pulsed harder, responding to the shift in his emotions.
His fingers curled slightly.
And then there was the shard of memory.
The source of his ability.
Useful—too useful.
Knowledge appeared when he needed it. Training methods. Combat understanding. Cold logic that didn't belong to someone his age. At first, he was grateful. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Lately, something felt off.
It was subtle. Easy to ignore. But the more he relied on it, the more he felt his judgment shifting. His reactions felt sharper. His thoughts grew colder. As if someone else was standing just behind his eyes, watching.
A voice echoed faintly in his head.
Stop fooling yourself.
Ezra's brows knit together.
"…Shut up," he muttered under his breath.
The voice didn't answer. It never did. But it never truly left either.
He exhaled slowly.
Maybe these memories really were from a past life. Another world. Another version of himself. Or maybe that was just an excuse his mind created to stay sane.
Nothing was proven.
Speculation meant nothing.
"The more I dream about that person's memories," he whispered, voice low in the empty room, "the more familiar it feels."
His chest tightened.
"And the more I start questioning who I am."
His eyes opened.
For a moment, uncertainty flickered through them.
Then it vanished.
"But as long as it doesn't affect my decisions," he said quietly, "as long as it doesn't stop me from surviving…"
A faint fire lit behind his gaze.
"I don't care."
His Cognis stabilized again, flowing smoothly. The chill in his spine faded, replaced by something harder. Firmer.
Resolve.
Ezra closed his eyes and returned fully to meditation.
Time moved on.
And just like that, the final day of his seclusion arrived.
***
The hall was packed.
Rows of young Alchemists filled the wide space, shoulder to shoulder, their voices mixing into a restless hum. Above them, guards stood in a firm circle, the gold logo on their black cap catching the light. Beyond the guards, on the raised platform, the higher-ups watched in silence; eyes sharp, expressions unreadable, as if observing livestock that had finally learned to stand.
Ezra felt that gaze even without looking up.
"Children of Ashenlocke."
Kyle's voice flowed through the hall, calm yet heavy with authority. It cut cleanly through the noise. Every head lifted.
"This Fourth Trial will require you to pass through a Maze," he continued. "Inside it are seven stages, each with its own quest. You will be given one month to complete the maze."
A ripple of tension spread through the hall.
One month.
Murmurs broke out immediately.
"A whole month…?" someone whispered behind Ezra.
"If it takes that long, how hard are the seven stages supposed to be?" another voice muttered.
"When they said the next trial would be tough, I didn't expect something like this," someone groaned.
The unease thickened.
"Silence!"
Raymond's deep voice thundered through the hall. It felt like a hammer striking stone.
The murmurs died instantly.
"You will form teams of four," Raymond said coldly. "You may choose anyone you wish."
His gaze swept over them, sharp and heavy.
"After that, from the First Rank onward, you will enter any door of your choosing to enter the Maze. That is all."
As soon as his words ended, a loud mechanical sound echoed from the side of the hall.
Everyone turned.
A massive door slowly opened, revealing a long wall behind it, twelve doors lined up side by side, each dark and silent. Guards moved into position around the area, their presence firm and final.
The children surged toward the doors.
The hall erupted again, this time with excitement and panic mixing together.
"Who should I team up with?"
"I need someone strong!"
"Don't leave me out!"
Vera stood calmly amid the noise, hands behind her back. She tilted her head slightly to the right, eyes sweeping over the crowd in front of her.
Dozens of hands pointed at her at once.
Pamela already has Cale and the others. I don't need Zack.
Her gaze passed over him without pause. Then she looked at Nina and smiled faintly.
"My cute flower," Vera said, pointing. "Come."
A wave of groans burst out.
"Hehe," Nina laughed loudly as she ran to Vera's side. "Did you fools really think she'd pick any of you over me?"
Vera's eyes moved again. She pointed at a boy standing stiffly near the edge of the group.
"You. Come."
The boy froze for half a second—then jumped.
"Yes!" he shouted, voice cracking with joy, as he ran over. Envious stares followed him from all sides.
"And last but not least…" Vera's hand hovered, moving slowly across the group. Several people straightened, hope flashing in their eyes.
Then her finger stopped.
"Gena."
The noise dropped.
Gena blinked.
"…Me?" She pointed at herself, stunned.
"Who else is named Gena?" Vera replied dryly.
Under countless gazes, Gena walked forward, shoulders tense, steps careful. Nervousness showed on her face, but beneath it, a sharp, barely hidden joy stirred.
She chose me.
Vera turned and walked away with her team, leaving chaos behind.
Zack stood frozen, staring at her back.
Why didn't Lady Vera pick me…?
On the other side of the hall, tension gathered again around Veda.
Everyone wanted to stand beside him.
"Alright," Veda said calmly. "Linda, Nickolas, Tracy, and Ezra—you'll each lead a group like I will."
Linda shot Ezra a sharp glare.
Ezra stood with his arms folded, eyes lowered, not reacting. As always, he simply observed.
"No fighting," Veda added, his gaze passing over them. "I'll be called soon, so everyone will need to manage without me. Be careful."
Veda pointed at two girls and a boy.
They stepped forward quickly, relief and nervousness mixed on their faces. From the way the others reacted, it was clear—he had chosen the weakest ones in the group.
Once that was done, Veda turned and walked toward Ezra. Linda and the others immediately began arguing among themselves, already picking teams. Bobby followed behind Veda; steps hesitant.
"Ezra," Veda said, stopping in front of him. "You should take Bobby with you."
Bobby stiffened.
"I thought you'd pick him," Ezra replied. "He's always with you."
Veda laughed lightly, but there was something forced in it. "I have my reasons."
Ezra smiled. "Well, it's not like I have a choice."
"I…I won't hold you back," Bobby said quickly, trying to sound confident.
Before Ezra could answer, footsteps approached from the side.
Vera and her team had arrived.
"Hey, Ezra." Her voice was flat, emotionless. Then her eyes slid to the side. "And my little brother."
That look alone sent a chill down Veda's spine.
"V… Big sister," Veda greeted stiffly.
Ezra glanced behind her. Gena was standing behind Nina, half-hidden, gripping her sleeve. She looked nervous, but safe.
Ezra let out a small laugh.
Lucky Gena.
"What brings you here, Vera?" Ezra asked bluntly.
"Hey!" Nina snapped, pointing at him. "Why are you always so rude to my Lady? Show respect, lowline!"
She moved forward, but Gena grabbed her arm.
"Nina, calm down," Gena whispered.
Nina struggled for a moment before stopping. Vera raised a single hand.
"Tsk." Nina turned away, annoyed.
"I came to ask you for something," Vera said.
Her serious tone made Ezra tense.
That was unusual.
"I know you and Pamela have a past," Vera continued. "And I know she wants to kill you." She paused. "If you face her in this trial… I want you to spare her life."
Silence fell.
Ezra froze.
So did Nina. So did Veda. Even Bobby forgot to breathe.
"Lady Vera… just pleaded to a lowline…" Nina collapsed dramatically into Gena's arms.
The boy in Vera's team stared with his mouth wide open. Bobby looked the same.
"I didn't expect this from you," Ezra said honestly. "So… you really do care about people."
"Do I look like a cold-hearted monster to you?" Vera glared. "Your answer."
"I was about to ask the same thing," Veda cut in.
"You know I killed her brother," Ezra said quietly. "And someone close to you. You should be supporting her."
"That's why I didn't stop her," Vera replied flatly.
Ezra stared at her, then sighed.
"I don't think I'll even meet her," he said. "And I don't plan on killing anyone in this trial."
He scratched the back of his head.
"Bobby, let's go. We need to finish picking our team."
He walked away. Bobby hurried after him.
"I didn't expect you to beg him like that," Veda said softly.
Vera placed a finger on his throat.
"Do you want to die?"
"No. Sorry," Veda said quickly, hands raised.
She withdrew her hand and looked toward Ezra, now talking with the others.
"He says he doesn't want to kill," Vera murmured. "But his body is full of killing intent."
"I sensed it too," Veda replied, his expression serious. "Something feels wrong."
A guard's voice rang out.
"First Rank…Felix. Proceed to your chosen door."
Felix moved without hesitation. Lyra, Freed, and another boy followed him into the center door, confidence clear in every step.
One by one, teams entered.
Veda's group went through the far-left door.
Vera's team chose the door second from the center.
Finally, Ezra's team stepped forward.
Ezra. Bobby. A highline girl. A lowline boy.
They entered the fourth door on the right.
They entered, into a long hallway.
Dim lamplight hung on the walls, weak and uneven, barely pushing back the darkness. Dust covered the stone floor, disturbed only by old footprints. There was only one path—straight ahead, narrow and silent.
"Should we run?" the lowline boy asked, his voice small in the empty corridor.
"No, Lime," Ezra said, eyes fixed forward. "We walk. Slowly."
"Hmph."
The girl scoffed. "Acting cool already? What if another group enters the same door and runs past us?" She glared at him.
She was the highline, the one who had questioned him in the class when he introduced himself to the group.
"Lady Aliya…" Bobby said carefully, worry clear on his face.
"If they pass us, then so be it," Ezra replied coldly, not even turning to look at her. "And if you want to run, go ahead. No one is stopping you."
"You…!" Aliya pointed at him.
She stopped herself.
In her mind, a strange thought flashed.
He's… so cool!!
She raised her chin, pretending nothing had happened.
They kept walking.
Minutes passed. Then more. It felt like hours.
The air grew heavier. The silence pressed down on them.
Ahead, light appeared.
An opening.
"Finally," Aliya sighed. "Somewhere with better light."
Bobby didn't relax.
He was watching Ezra.
Ezra's gaze was locked on something far ahead—something at the very edge of the open area. You'd need sharp eyes… or enhanced vision to notice it.
"Green light?" Bobby muttered, focusing his Cognis into his eyes.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
Ezra narrowed his eyes.
There were more lights, but off.
Yellow.
Red.
…Like a traffic signal.
Something clicked in his head.
His blood ran cold.
Footsteps thundered behind them.
Four people burst out of the hallway, sprinting forward at full speed.
"We'll go first!" the leading girl shouted, waving at Ezra as they rushed past.
"Idiots!" Ezra roared.
"Everyone freeze…don't move!"
His voice hit like a command.
Aliya and Lime froze on instinct, even though they didn't understand why.
Then…
The girl's head exploded.
Blood and fragments sprayed forward.
Another member's leg vanished mid-step. Before his body could hit the ground, bullets tore through him, ripping him apart. Blood splashed onto the last two.
The girl closest to the corpses opened her mouth to scream…
Bang!
A bullet shattered her jaw.
The final boy was hit in the stomach, thrown backward. He slammed near Ezra's group, groaning. He had hardened his skin with Cognis just in time, but the force still crushed his ribs.
He tried to move.
Idiot…don't move!!
Ezra's mind screamed.
More shots followed.
Again.
Again.
Blood splashed across the floor, across the walls, across what was left of the boy.
The corridor went silent.
Ezra stared, his face twisting in disgust.
"…Shit."
A voice echoed through the maze, cold and indifferent.
"Welcome to the Fourth Trial."
"The Hell Maze."