Rain hammered the abandoned building's roof as the blue system panel burned above the distant skyline.
> **[TIME REMAINING: 47:41:03]**
>
> **[QUALIFIED: 36 / 2,000]**
For once, even the two masked figures reacted.
One lifted their red-stained mask slightly, staring at the countdown as though it had insulted them personally. The other stepped closer to the broken window, shoulders tense beneath their hoodie.
Lucas Mourne looked at Alex. "Forty-eight hours? Aris is forcing everyone into a slaughterhouse."
Alex stood over his route map, eyes narrowed at the shifting system text.
"He wants movement," Alex said. "Panic. He wants the weak to start killing each other before the arena finishes them."
Lucas watched him for a moment, then lowered his voice.
"Why don't you manipulate the system and add more time?"
The room fell still.
One masked figure turned sharply toward Alex.
Alex gave a humourless breath. "Because Aris is watching."
Lucas's expression darkened.
"And even if he wasn't," Alex continued, "the system isn't the same one I interfered with before. It updates constantly—adapting, patching weaknesses, rebuilding its defenses. Every day it gets harder to touch."
He tapped the glowing countdown through the cracked window.
"To force an extension now, I would have to fight an active system while it is recalculating in real time. By the time I found a way in, the forty-eight hours could already be gone."
"And Aris would notice," Lucas said.
"He would notice the first wrong line of code."
Thunder rolled over the city.
The masked figure by the window finally spoke, voice muffled by their devil-pale mask.
"So there is no extra time."
Alex folded the map and reached for his sword.
"There is time," he said. "Just not enough to waste."
Lucas glanced north, toward the unseen finish line.
"Then we stop tracking side trails."
Alex's eyes hardened at the thought of Tom, Arthur, the demons, and the Midnight Church.
"For now," he said. "We qualify first. Then we hunt everyone who thought a timer could make us forget them."
Outside, the countdown continued to fall through the rain.
> **[47:40:18]**
Rain started running down Alex's face as he stood beneath the broken roofline, the nameless book heavy in his hand.
The sea is near and far.
He read the line again in his mind.
"What sea?" he murmured.
The obvious answer was an ocean—but the Book of the End was never obvious. It could mean the Sea of the Afterlife, the boundary where dead souls drifted beyond mortal reach. Or it could be something else entirely: a sea between worlds, a place that did not exist on any map, or a force waiting to be made real.
Then there were the vessels.
Alex knew only two with certainty:
- Sunny
- Arthur
Two out of five.
He looked north through the rain, toward the finish line and the unseen paths beyond it.
The Watchers would want Arthur brought to them. A vessel was not someone they would ignore—not with whatever role the five were meant to play in the creation of a new world.
But Arthur had changed the calculation.
At first, Alex had seen him as a connection: someone to find, protect, and possibly deliver to the Watchers when the time came.
Now Arthur was Arthur.
Someone stubborn enough to carry people who could not walk. Someone willing to make ugly choices and hate himself for them. Someone Alex had begun to care about more than was convenient.
Do I take him to the Watchers… or keep him away from them?
The Book offered no answer.
Tom was another problem—and one with a shorter clock.
The Midnight Church had been active far more often lately. Their symbols appeared in ruined buildings. Their followers were moving through the arena with purpose instead of fear. Alex had assumed they were gathering strength.
But perhaps they were moving because the Hollow Choir had gone quiet.
The Choir had not been seen nearly as much.
Maybe the Midnight Church believed the silence was an opening. Maybe they were filling the space the Hollow Choir had left behind. Or maybe both factions were moving around something larger, something connected to the demons, the sea, and the vessels.
Alex shut the book.
For an instant, its cover changed again—black leather, a title appearing in thin silver letters:
The Ones Who Are Carried
Then the words vanished.
Alex slipped it beneath his coat before Lucas could see.
"If the Church has Tom," he thought, "I find him before their silence becomes a funeral."
Inside, Lucas called for him through the downpour.
Alex closed the Book of the End and let the rain strike its cover.
For now, the sea, the vessels, the Midnight Church, Tom, and the Watchers could wait. None of those problems would matter if his group died before reaching the finish line.
And Aris had changed the shape of everything.
If Aris interfered again, it could make the tournament easier—or turn the entire continent into a graveyard. Alex preferred the first stage to remain untouched. Most of his own power was still sealed. Against Aris as he was now, Alex had no real chance.
Not yet.
He returned inside. Lucas and the two masked members looked up as rain hammered the abandoned building.
"We head north," Alex said. "No detours unless they put us closer to the finish line—or Arthur's group."
The red devil-masked man tilted his horned mask. "On foot?"
"If we find a car, we take it," Alex replied. "If it is broken, we fix it. Then we drive north and keep watch for Arthur and his teammates."
Lucas nodded. "And our roles?"
Alex placed a finger on the crude map.
Roles
- Lucas Mourne — Support you would preserve strength, treat injuries where possible, and reinforce the group when a fight became unavoidable.
- Red devil mask — Scout the one in a red mask will move ahead, search for a usable vehicle, track threats, and locate signs of Arthur's group without drawing attention.
- Black-and-white devil mask — Overwatch He would take high ground, monitor roads and rooftops, and signal danger before it closed in.
- Alex Lionheart — Vanguard, overwatch, assassin, and decision-maker then I would lead the route, clear immediate threats, take the decisive strikes when stealth failed, and make the final call when the road turned lethal.
Lucas looked at him. "That is too many roles for one person."
"It is what I can do," Alex said.
Outside, thunder rolled northward.
The red-masked scout rose first and stepped into the rain. The black-and-white mask moved toward the upper floor to watch the road. Lucas gathered the remaining rations and medical supplies.
Alex stood at the doorway, hand briefly resting over the hidden Book of the End.
"We qualify first," he said. "Then the complicated part starts."
Beyond the ruined buildings, half-buried beneath floodwater and vines, the outline of an abandoned vehicle waited in the street.
The red devil-masked scout moved first.
He crossed the street low and fast, boots slipping through oily rainwater as he approached the half-submerged vehicle. It was an old armoured utility truck—boxy, built for bad roads, its rear storage compartment still intact beneath layers of vine and grime.
Alex watched from the doorway, sword in hand.
The scout wiped mud from the driver's door. A faded emblem appeared beneath it: the old capital's emergency service insignia.
"Not civilian," Lucas murmured. "That may be useful."
The scout pulled the door open.
A dead body slumped sideways from the driver's seat.
It wore a rotted uniform and had been there long enough that the rain had washed most of it away. But the body was not fully still. Thin black roots threaded from its chest into the dashboard, pulsing faintly.
The scout did not touch it.
"Corruption," he called back. "But dormant."
Alex stepped closer, rain running off his coat. Through the windshield, he saw that the key was still in the ignition. The fuel gauge sat just above empty. One front tyre was flat, and the engine compartment had been torn open—as if something with claws had searched inside it.
But the truck could still be saved.
The scout checked the rear compartment and found more than anyone expected:
- a spare tyre
- basic repair tools
- two sealed fuel containers
- an old paper road map of the northern districts
Then the dead driver's head twitched.
The black roots in its chest brightened.
Lucas raised a hand, shadows gathering around his fingers. The black-and-white devil mask, watching from a broken upper window, gave a sharp hand signal toward the north.
Movement. Multiple ravager beasts. Coming this way.
Alex looked at the truck, then at the corpse waking inside it.
"We have minutes," he said.
The corpse's head snapped toward Alex.
Black roots writhed through its ribs, pulling rotten muscle upright in short, broken jerks. Its mouth opened—but before it could make a sound, Alex was already moving.
He crossed the flooded street in two steps.
His blade flashed once.
The corrupted driver's head struck the dashboard, and the body collapsed across the seat. The roots convulsed, searching for something to hold, then shrivelled into grey ash beneath the rain.
Alex wiped his sword against the ruined uniform and pulled the body from the truck. "Clear."
The red devil-masked scout jumped into the driver's seat and checked the ignition. The engine gave a weak, choking turn.
"Fuel is good," he said. "Tyre first. Then we pray the engine still remembers its job."
From the upper window, the black-and-white devil mask gave another signal.
Five ravager beasts. Two streets north. Closing in.
Lucas moved to the rear of the truck, shadows curling around his hands. "I can hide the sound for a little while."
Alex grabbed the spare tyre and tossed it to the scout.
"Do it fast," he said. "We leave before they smell the blood."
Thunder cracked above them.
The truck's engine coughed again—then almost caught.
Alex handed the spare tyre to the red devil-masked scout, then looked toward the northern street where the corrupted beasts were closing in.
"Get it running," he told Lucas. "I'll buy you the time."
Lucas frowned. "Alone?"
Alex was already moving. "Keep the truck ready."
He splashed through the floodwater, deliberately kicking aside a loose metal sign. It crashed against the road with a sharp, echoing clang.
Multiple ravager beasts turned at once.
They were lean, half-human things with too-long arms and rain-dark hides stretched over exposed bone. These are called Killamarsh species, a rare breed of ravagers that are close to looking like humans on two legs . They barely posses intelligence however once they accents another rank they fully develop human traits . This is why they are rare to find .Their heads tilted toward Alex, scenting the fresh ash from the dead driver and the living blood beneath it.
Alex raised his sword.
"Come on, then."
The first beast lunged.
Alex slipped beneath its claws and cut across its leg—not deep enough to kill, only enough to make it howl. He ran immediately, leading the pack through a narrow service lane between ruined buildings.
Behind him, the beasts gave chase.
One leapt from a collapsed balcony. Alex spun, caught its momentum, and drove it into a rain-filled wall. He kept moving before the others could surround him.
At the far end of the lane, he found what he needed: an overturned delivery bus blocking half the road and a collapsed pedestrian bridge above it.
He climbed the wreckage as the corrupted beasts rushed below.
Then he kicked loose a cracked support beam.
The bridge groaned.
Concrete, twisted metal, and floodwater crashed into the street, sealing the lane beneath a mountain of debris. The beasts screamed from the other side, clawing at the blockage.
Alex landed hard, pain running up his ankle.
A vehicle engine roared to life in the distance.
The truck.
He turned toward the sound just as the black-and-white devil-masked overwatch appeared on a rooftop, pointing past Alex.
Not north.
South .
corrupted beasts had heard the collapse and were now moving toward the truck from the opposite direction.
Sprinting Through the Flooded Streets
Alex ran.
Pain fired through his ankle every time his boot struck the drowned pavement, but he did not slow. Behind him, the collapsed bridge shook under the trapped beasts' claws. Ahead, a second pack emerged through the rain, converging on the armoured truck.
The engine roared.
Lucas was in the passenger seat, shadows coiling across the windshield to blur its shape. The red devil-masked scout had finished the tyre and was fighting the stiff gear lever. Above them, the black-and-white masked overwatch shouted from the roofline.
"Two at the rear—three on the driver's side!"
One ravager beast slammed into the truck's rear panel. Another climbed onto the hood, long fingers scraping across the glass toward Lucas.
Alex reached the street just as the truck began to move.
"GO!, GO!, GO!" he shouted.
The scout threw it into reverse. The truck lurched back through the water, knocking one beast away—but the movement opened a gap between Alex and the passenger door.
Lucas leaned out, one hand extended.
"Alex!"
Alex sprinted harder. A ravager beast broke from the side street and lunged for him, jaws wide.
He dropped beneath it, slid through the floodwater, and cut upward. His blade opened its throat as he passed. He caught Lucas's hand with one arm and the truck's doorframe with the other.
The scout accelerated.
Alex swung inside just as the beast on the hood smashed a fist through the windshield.
Lucas's shadows surged forward, crushing around its head and ripping it away from the glass. The truck surged down the ruined road, leaving the ravager pack clawing through rainwater behind them.
Alex shut the passenger door and drew a breath.
"North," he said.
The red-masked scout glanced at the old road map, then toward the road disappearing into the storm.
"North is where the capital gets worse."
Alex looked through the cracked windshield.
"Then we drive faster."
Alex looked at the northern road on the faded map, then shook his head.
"Not yet," he said. "Arthur first."
The red devil-masked scout glanced back from the driver's seat. "The finish line is north."
"And Arthur is somewhere in this capital," Alex replied. "We find him, then we go north together."
Lucas did not argue. He only unfolded the map across his knee and began comparing it to the drowned streets outside.
"Arthur's group was approaching from the west," Lucas said. "If they entered the capital looking for cover, they would avoid the main roads. Archives, stations, municipal buildings—places with strong walls and multiple exits."
The black-and-white masked overwatch leaned forward from the rear seat.
"Then look for created matter."
Alex turned slightly.
"Sunny," Lucas realized. "His attribute. If he made shelter, it would not look like anything built in this city."
The truck swerved through flooded backstreets, avoiding the broad avenues where corrupted beasts prowled between abandoned vehicles. Rain hammered the metal roof hard enough to make conversation difficult.
Then the scout slowed.
Ahead, beyond a collapsed overpass, stood an old municipal archive.
Most of it was ruined: broken windows, torn walls, and a roof sagging beneath rainwater. But inside its exposed central hall was something that did not belong.
A pale, clean-lined house.
Its walls were too smooth. Its roof was whole. Its shape was wrong against the decaying city.
"Sunny," Lucas said.
Alex felt the tension leave his shoulders for the first time since the timer appeared.
[TIME REMAINING: 47:32:19]
"We found them," he said.
But as the truck rolled closer, Alex noticed movement on the archive roof.
A girl stood behind the broken concrete edge, holding something near her mouth.
A whistle.
And down the avenue, close to the wrecked tram, Lola stood alone in the rain.
Three unfamiliar contestants were approaching her.
Alex's eyes narrowed.
"That is not a reunion," he said.
From the darkness beyond the tramline came the first low call of a corrupted beast answering a scream.
"Stop the truck," Alex ordered. "We get Arthur before this becomes a massacre."
The truck slowed beside the flooded avenue.
Alex saw the girl on the archive roof, whistle poised at her mouth. He did not know who she was—only that she was watching the street like she expected something terrible.
"Hey!" Alex called through the rain. "Get everyone inside. Dozens of ravagers are on their way."
Sarah froze.
The warning came too late to undo Arthur's trap.
Below, the three contestants had reached Lola. Lucas moved first. Shadows surged across the pavement, winding around their legs and weapons before they could react. They hit the ground hard, pinned but alive.
Sunny saw the opening.
With the last of his aether, he extended the barricade he had created earlier. Pale walls rose from the avenue on both sides, sealing the three contestants into a narrow space beside the wrecked tram.
Then Arthur stepped out of the shadows.
Rain ran off his coat. His face was calm in the way it only became when he had already decided to hate himself later.
He tied the contestants' hands.
"Tell me the fastest route north," Arthur said. "Tell me where the corrupted are concentrated. Tell me what you know about the finish line."
They refused.
Arthur's silence lasted only a moment.
Then he made the decision Sarah had feared.
He blinded one of them in one eye. He mutilated another's hand. From the third, he took an arm below the shoulder.
Their screams tore through the rain.
Sarah recoiled on the roof, face drained of colour. She hated what Arthur had done. She hated that the sound was exactly what he needed. And she hated most that she no longer had time to warn the captives about what was coming.
From the eastern streets came the first roar.
Then another.
Ravagers answered the screams first—huge shapes charging between drowned buildings. Behind them came corrupted beasts in packs: lesser beasts, twisted predators, and other creatures warped by the city's corruption.
Arthur looked toward the truck.
"Now!"
Lola ran. Lucas released the shadows and followed. Vaelis covered the retreat from the pharmacy ruins while Eldric helped Azrion Velcrest, the Heir Without a Throne, into the extended rear compartment.
Sunny forced the vehicle's interior wider with one final push of the Creator. The armoured truck groaned as new space formed along its rear frame.
Then Sunny collapsed against the wall.
"I'm out," he whispered. "Completely out."
Alex caught him before he hit the floor.
Without explaining, Alex pressed a hand to Sunny's shoulder and shared a portion of his own aether. A dim current passed between them.
Sunny's eyes opened slightly.
"It won't be usable straight away," Alex told him. "Your body needs time to convert it into your own aether. But it will keep you conscious."
The scout drove.
The truck tore north through the flooded streets just as the first ravager crashed into the barricade. Behind them, the screams stopped one by one beneath the roars, snapping jaws, and the sound of the corrupted pack descending on the trapped contestants.
Sarah sat rigid near the back, unable to look through the rear window.
Arthur did.
For a single second, he watched the avenue vanish beneath ravagers and corrupted beasts.
Then he turned away.
No one praised him.
No one thanked him.
The truck drove harder into the rain, carrying the survivors toward the north—and away from the people Arthur had sacrificed to buy them a chance.
[TIME REMAINING: 47:21:44]
Arthur held his bloodstained hands together in the dark.
Every leader makes hard choices, he told himself.
But the words did not make them clean.
The armoured truck tore through the rain, its tyres throwing black water across the drowned streets.
Arthur sat near the rear door with his hands locked together, staring at the blood that rain had failed to wash from beneath his nails. Behind them, the roars had faded—but not disappeared.
Then his stomach turned.
He shoved the door open against the wind and leaned out as the vehicle moved.
Arthur vomited into the flooded road.
For several seconds, there was only the sound of rain and the engine forcing its way north.
Lola reached toward him, then stopped just short of touching his back. She had seen what he did. She understood why he believed he had done it.
That did not make it easier to watch him break afterward.
Sarah sat opposite him, pale and silent. Her anger was still there, but the sight of Arthur shaking at the open door complicated it. He had not enjoyed it. He had not been untouched by it.
Vaelis watched without speaking. He had seen the truth in Arthur's face the instant the trap was set: this was not a leader proud of a necessary choice. This was someone terrified that the choice had revealed who he really was.
Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and pulled himself inside.
"Keep driving," he said hoarsely.
Alex, beside the front seat, glanced back at him. His expression did not soften, but neither did he judge.
"North?" the red devil-masked scout asked.
Arthur looked toward the grey horizon beyond the windshield.
[TIME REMAINING: 47:18:02]
"North," he said. "Before I have to make another choice like that."