Finally, he was here.
A young man stepped off the bus, his boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud. Before him stretched a massive pier, and beyond it, a floating fortress that defied gravity—Sikharns Academy. He was just one among hundreds of applicants, a small fish in a deadly pond. His name was Riju.
Riju strode forward, his gaze fixed on the dock.
"Halt," a voice barked. A guard stepped into his path, hand resting near his holster. "Where do you think you're going, kid?"
"For the selection," Riju replied, his voice unnervingly calm.
"Documents. You should have two," the guard demanded. "One must be an OI-2 type. Hand them over."
Riju reached into his bag, pulled out the crumpled papers, and offered them without a word. "Here, sir."
The guard scanned them quickly before nodding. "Good. You may proceed."
Riju boarded the academy's transport vessel. The moment he stepped into the main hall, the air grew heavy. It wasn't just the crowd; the entire atmosphere felt suffocating, as if the walls themselves were waiting for someone to die.
He walked through the rows of seats, his eyes glued to the slip of paper in his hand. "Seat F2," he muttered.
Thump!
He collided with another student.
"Ouch! Sorry! I'm really, really sorry!" the person blurted out. Before Riju could even respond, the guy scrambled away in a frantic rush, his eyes wide with terror.
"Strange guy," Riju whispered to himself. He found his seat and sank into it.
Minutes later, a silhouette ascended the podium. The hall fell dead silent.
"Greetings," the man announced. His voice was cold, professional. "Welcome to the selection. I am Eshar, your proctor. Your task is simple: Hide. You have three hours."
A low murmur broke out, but Eshar silenced it with a sharp glance.
"The grounds consist of six main buildings and eleven auxiliary structures. You may conceal yourselves anywhere. However, be warned... according to the documents you signed, we bear no responsibility for loss of life. If you are discovered, you will be executed with an AK-47. Check beneath your seats. You will find a knife. You are permitted to fight back."
Eshar's eyes swept the room one last time. "Begin."
The hall exploded into chaos. Applicants bolted for the exits, screaming and pushing. Riju, however, remained frozen. His hands began to tremble.
W-what do I do...? Panic finally set in. He frantically groped under his seat until his fingers felt cold steel. "Ah!" The blade nicked his palm, drawing a bead of blood. He gripped the knife, stood up, and finally started to run.
Screw it, just run! I need to get as far away as possible!
He dashed through a corridor when a sudden whistle sliced the air. A knife grazed his shoulder, thudding into the wall beside his head.
"Who's there?!" Riju shouted, spinning around.
"Well, hello," a voice chuckled from the shadows. "You'll be my third catch."
Riju gritted his teeth. "If it's a fair one-on-one, I'll take my chances. But an AK-47 against a knife? That's madness."
He didn't wait for an answer. Riju lunged forward with desperate speed, aiming for the attacker's throat. His opponent parried the blade with ease and drove a heavy fist into Riju's gut.
"Agh!" Riju gasped, staggering back as the wind was knocked out of him.
"You've got some nerve, kid," the attacker sneered.
Thinking fast, Riju hurled his knife—not to kill, but as a distraction. As the man flinched, Riju delivered a sharp kick to his chest, sending him stumbling back.
Huff... huff... The opponent's breathing grew labored. He was reaching his limit.
Riju retrieved his blade from a wooden crate just as a voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
"Attention all academy personnel. Immediate evacuation to the central building is ordered. Applicants, prepare yourselves. Commencement in ten minutes."
Taking advantage of the distraction, Riju threw his knife again. This time, it sank deep into the man's thigh.
"Agh!" The attacker buckled, clutching his leg in agony.
Riju didn't hesitate. He snatched a heavy metal pipe from the floor and advanced.
"Wait, wait! Enough! I was just joking!" the man panicked, pointing his knife shakily. Riju effortlessly batted the weapon aside. He picked up the fallen blade and drove it into the man's stomach. A choked groan followed, and Riju left him bleeding on the cold floor.
Meanwhile, in another part of the complex, Eshar was watching the clock. Three minutes left. But then, he paused. He sniffed the air.
"This smell... cordite."
BOOM!
A deafening explosion ripped through the air from the direction Riju had fled. Debris rained down as a building collapsed into rubble.
From the smoke, Eshar emerged, clutching his bloodied arm. "Dammit, I let my guard down," he growled.
A gunshot rang out. Eshar hit the dirt instantly. A silhouette materialized from the haze—blue hair, brown eyes, and a gaze that promised death. This was Sevrin, a top-ranked member of Liber's terrorist organization. These were the men who had orchestrated a coup against an empire that spanned the globe, assassinated the Emperor, and plunged the world into chaos.
"Annoying little fly," Eshar remarked, standing up. "Seems you're interrupting my schedule."
"You think I came here just to bother you, Eshar?" Sevrin retorted, hefting a massive war hammer.
"Damn you. I suppose I'll have to show you the extent of my power."
The two clashed in the center of the ravaged hall. Sevrin's hammer descended like a falling meteor. Eshar deflected with his karambit, but the blade shattered instantly. He pulled another knife, stabbing at Sevrin's leg, but the terrorist caught his wrist in an iron grip. Eshar used the opening to deliver a crushing blow to Sevrin's abdomen, making him spit blood. Sevrin responded by slamming his hammer onto Eshar's captured arm.
"Looks like the game's over," Eshar taunted, despite the pain. "You're weaker than I estimated."
"Where's the joke in that?" Sevrin shot back. "I clearly hold the advantage." But suddenly, he doubled over, his face contorting in searing pain.
Eshar spoke coldly. "You're just feeling it now? A pity. You've already lost."
The ominous click of a hammer cocking echoed through the hall.
"Seems the main event has started," Eshar whispered. "Damned roaches, getting in the way."
Elsewhere, Riju was still sprinting when he saw someone who looked like they were on vacation. A boy was lying back against a wall, eyes closed, looking utterly relaxed.
"Hey, you! What are you doing?" Riju hissed. "Run!"
"Huh? Just taking it easy," the stranger replied without opening an eye.
Riju stared at him. This guy has a death wish. "You got a problem with that?" the stranger asked.
"That's not what I meant! We're in the middle of a deadly selection!"
"Well, it's just my nature to stay relaxed," he answered, finally standing up.
KABOOM!
A grenade exploded behind them.
"Well, well. Finally found some more prey," a new attacker declared, stepping through the smoke.
"Damn it all," the relaxed stranger sighed. "Disturbing my peace. You'd better be ready."
"By the way," Riju asked, bracing himself. "What's your name?"
"Zavian," he replied.
Zavian moved like a blur, crashing into the larger attacker. Despite his smaller frame, he matched the man blow for blow. Fists collided, knives were drawn, and the air filled with the sound of combat.
Suddenly, a second assailant lobbed another grenade. Bang! Shrapnel sliced through the air, hitting Zavian.
"Hey! A little help here!" Zavian yelled.
"That's your problem," Riju replied coldly.
Zavian surged forward anyway, plunging his knife into the first man's chest before pivoting toward the second. He flung three knives in rapid succession, creating an opening for a devastating punch to the man's head.
"Damn it... agh!" the man grunted, falling.
Zavian stood over him, breathing heavily. "You're really starting to piss me off." He finished the fight with a brutal kick to the ribs.
He then shot an annoyed glance at Riju. "Unbelievable. You didn't lift a finger."
"Why should I?" Riju asked.
Before they could argue, a shadow fell over them. Eshar descended from above, landing silently between them.
Panic gripped them both.
To be continued...