《The Chaos Tournament [LitRPG | Grimdark | SciFi | Slow Progression]》
Chapter 1 - Nigel Lowell
The air reeked of blood and death.
Nigel stood in the eye of a massacre, surrounded by the mangled remains of dozens of Sentinels¡ªbodies he didn¡¯t remember killing.
His right hand twitched. His fingers were drenched in blood that wasn¡¯t his.
The gun barrels clicked around him, their polished muzzles gleaming like judgment.
This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen.
But it had.
And now, all that remained was a metal ticket¡ªa tiny, cold escape from all the killing he had unleashed.
He looked at it, gripped it tighter.
The Chaos Tournament.
An unknown hell.
But maybe there¡ he could finally stop running.
With a shaky breath, he placed the device on his chest.
As the teleportation sequence triggered, memories flooded in¡ªof Tom, of Elyra, of his bad decision.
This wasn''t just escape.
It was punishment.
The Eleventh Ring paid in credits and silence. Nigel never cared for either.
Down in the mines, men dug to survive. He did to keep his mind busy, to keep the memories locked away as much as possible.
The dull clang of a pickaxe striking rock echoed through the coal mine. Dust hung thick in the air, settling into the creases of worn-out uniforms and the deep lines of exhausted workers.
Nigel stood near the back of the cavern; his breath steady as he drove his pickaxe into the stone. The impact sent a sharp crack through the tunnel walls, and chunks of coal tumbled down into the cart beside him. With practiced efficiency, he scooped up the stray pieces, tossing them in until the cart was filled to the brim.
A small digital display flickered on the side of the cart, tallying the weight. A thousand and three kilograms. A full ton.
Nigel barely glanced at it. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, then gripped the cart¡¯s handle and pushed.
The heavy steel wheels groaned in protest, grinding against the worn tracks, but the cart rolled forward with ease. Nigel¡¯s movements were fluid, unstrained, as if he were pushing nothing more than an empty crate.
A low whistle came from behind him.
Tom Meyer, a broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked hair and coal-stained skin, leaned against his pickaxe, watching with raised eyebrows. ¡°You¡¯re something else, kid,¡± he muttered. ¡°A full ton, and you¡¯re moving it like it¡¯s nothing.¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t stop. ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel like much,¡± he said simply.
Tom shook his head, falling into step beside him. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying. You shouldn¡¯t be here, boy. Someone like you? You could be a soldier, a bodyguard, hell, even one of those professional fighters up in the higher Rings. Why waste yourself in this hole?¡±
Nigel exhaled through his nose, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Because it¡¯s peaceful.¡±
Tom let out a dry laugh. ¡°Peaceful?¡± He gestured to the walls around them. The dim lighting, the endless dust, the distant coughing of sick miners. ¡°Is this peace to you? The Eleventh Ring was the latest to be unlocked, and the fastest to be forgotten. Not even those damned Sentinels come here.¡±
Nigel gave the cart one final push, locking it into place on the track system that would carry it up to the surface. ¡°It is to me.¡±
Tom sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked like he wanted to say more but held back. He¡¯d known Nigel long enough to recognize when the conversation was over.
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And Nigel, as always, wasn¡¯t one for long explanations.
They made their way toward the mine¡¯s exit, boots crunching over loose gravel.
¡°Hey, the offer to have dinner with me and Lilly is still up if you want,¡± Tom said.
Nigel paused for a second, considering. ¡°No, thanks. I think I¡¯ll just skip dinner tonight.¡±
Tom gave him a knowing look, a mix of pity and frustration. He had offered time and time again, but Nigel always refused. They both knew why¡ªNigel saw himself as a burden, an extra mouth to feed in a household that, while stable, wasn¡¯t exactly wealthy. No matter how many times Tom insisted otherwise, Nigel wouldn¡¯t change his mind.
The conversation ended there, as it always did.
Once outside, a sleek, luxurious car sat waiting for them near the entrance. Standing beside it was a man dressed in an elegant suit, his dark hair neatly slicked back.
Quention. One of the mine¡¯s owners.
¡°Hello, gentlemen. I see today was quite productive,¡± he said, eyeing the coal-filled cart. ¡°Looks like I have no choice but to pay you a handsome bonus. We were expecting about three hundred kilograms today, and yet here we are, with nearly two tons.¡±
Tom chuckled, patting Nigel¡¯s back. ¡°Yeah, this kid did almost all of it himself. Just hand him the whole bonus.¡±
Nigel shook his head. ¡°Give it to him. I don¡¯t need it.¡±
Tom turned toward him, frowning, but before he could argue, Quention had already pulled out his phone.
¡°Well, alright then,¡± the mine owner muttered, tapping at the screen. ¡°I¡¯ve just transferred the corresponding amounts to both of you. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.¡±
Tom didn¡¯t even have time to reject the extra pay.
Nigel gave him a small nod and started walking away before Tom could push the subject.
Tom sighed. ¡°You never take the easy route, do you, kid?¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t turn back. ¡°See you tomorrow, old man.¡±
They parted ways.
Nigel¡¯s home sat on the outskirts of the ruined city, past collapsed buildings and rusted-out vehicles long abandoned. It was a small wooden hut, barely large enough for one person. The walls were worn, the roof patched together in places, but it was livable.
Yet, despite the decaying structure, the garden in front of it was beautiful. Vibrant, well-kept flowers bloomed in careful arrangements, bushes were neatly trimmed, and vines crept up the sides of the hut, giving it an almost peaceful, untouched feel.
It had been his mother¡¯s garden.
She had planted the first seeds when he was a child, tending to them with quiet dedication. Even after she was gone, Nigel had kept it alive. It was one of the few things left of her¡ªone of the few things he hadn¡¯t let wither away.
He crouched near a row of deep purple flowers, plucking a few stray weeds from the soil. His hands moved automatically, but his mind was elsewhere.
Nazli Lowell had been many things. Strong. Unyielding. Fearless.
A mother, yes¡ªbut also a soldier.
She had pushed him harder than anyone else ever could, training him relentlessly from the time he could stand. She had introduced him to the Wardens, forced him to learn things no child should ever have to. At the time, he had hated her for it.
Maybe he still did, in some ways.
But he had loved her more than anything, too.
His fingers froze over the dirt, his chest tightening. He never let himself think about her too long. It always led back to the past¡ªto things he didn¡¯t want to remember.
Nigel clenched his jaw and stood up, shaking the thoughts away.
Enough of that.
The day was over, and tomorrow would come, just like always.
He turned toward the hut, stepping inside, shutting the door behind him.
Nigel¡¯s nights were always the same.
After setting his boots by the door, he moved through his small home, tidying up where he could. There wasn¡¯t much to clean¡ªjust a worn-out cot, a wooden table with a single chair, and a rusted shelf lined with a few essentials. Still, he put everything in its place, more out of habit than necessity.
Once satisfied, he grabbed a bucket of stored water and stepped outside. The night air was cool against his skin as he bathed quickly, pouring the water over himself in sharp, practiced motions. The cold barely registered.
Back inside, he dried off, pulled on fresh clothes, and dropped onto his cot. His body ached from the day¡¯s work, but it was the kind of exhaustion he welcomed.
Before sleep, he reached for the old radio sitting on the edge of the shelf.
It was a relic from another time, something he had found buried in the ruins years ago. Most people wouldn¡¯t bother with such junk, but Nigel had taken the time to pry it open, clean out the rusted parts, and piece it back together. Somehow, it still worked.
Inside, he had discovered a cassette¡ªor maybe a memory card, he wasn¡¯t sure. What mattered was that it held music unlike anything made in the Rings today. Soft, unfamiliar melodies, voices singing in a language he didn¡¯t recognize.
Whatever this was, it had been left behind by a world long gone.
And yet, here it was¡ªstill playing, staying alive.
The melodies were strange but soothing. The words, sung in a language long forgotten, felt like echoes from a distant past.
Nigel didn¡¯t know where the music came from.
And honestly, he didn¡¯t care.
He let the gentle hum of an old song fill the quiet space as his eyes grew heavy. Within minutes, sleep took him.
The next morning, Nigel woke before sunrise, as always.
The air was crisp when he stepped outside, his breath visible in the dim light. He stretched, rolled his shoulders, then started his walk to the mines.
The streets of the Eleventh Ring were quiet at this hour, save for a few early risers moving like shadows between half-collapsed buildings. The scent of damp earth and old metal lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the city''s slow decay.
Nigel walked with his usual pace¡ªsteady, unhurried. Routine. Familiar. Predictable.
Until it wasn¡¯t.
Up ahead, something felt off.
A man stood at the mouth of an alley, his back partially turned. His posture was rigid, calculated. Even from a distance, Nigel could tell he wasn¡¯t an ordinary citizen.
His uniform gave him away immediately¡ªpristine white with gold accents, a series of polished badges gleaming on his chest.
A Sentinel High Official.
His instinct told him. Something bad was about to happen.
Chapter 2 - Tragedy (1)
Nigel slowed his steps, keeping his distance. A Sentinel High Official had no business here. They ruled from their fortified towers, issuing commands from behind gilded walls, only descending into the lower Rings with purpose.
And judging by the man¡¯s posture¡ªrigid, patient, watching¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a casual visit.
Nigel followed his gaze.
At the far end of the alley, half-swallowed by shadow, stood Elyra.
A girl¡ªfifteen at most¡ªshifting uneasily beneath the weight of the Sentinel¡¯s attention.
His fingers curled slightly.
Something about this felt wrong.
But it wasn¡¯t his problem.
Nigel kept walking, but his mind lingered. The image of Elyra¡ªsmall, nervous, exposed¡ªclawed at the edges of his thoughts. The Sentinel hadn¡¯t moved, hadn¡¯t spoken, but his mere presence painted an ugly picture.
A man of his rank. Stalking a child.
There was no version of this that ended well.
His thoughts circled like vultures, tearing at the situation from every angle. He had no proof, no certainty. Maybe the man was investigating something. Maybe Elyra had gotten herself tangled in the wrong kind of trouble.
Or maybe¡ªhe was about to do exactly what Nigel feared.
His grip tightened.
He had spent years learning when to step in and when to walk away. Experience had taught him the cost of reckless action. He had seen what happened to those who intervened without thought, without a plan. And he had learned¡ªpainfully¡ªthat rushing into a fight unprepared only got you killed.
Helping meant exposing yourself. It meant drawing attention. It meant making enemies.
And for what? A girl he barely knew? A city that would let him rot in a ditch if their places were reversed?
His jaw clenched.
But if he walked away now¡
Would Elyra still be there tomorrow?
A slow exhale left his lips. Not my problem.
His thoughts had almost settled, retreating back into the safety of indifference when¡ª
A scream.
Sharp. High-pitched. Desperate.
His heart stopped.
Then¡ªhe moved.
By the time he reached the alley, his pulse was a thunderous roar in his ears.
The sight before him made his stomach lurch.
Elyra was pinned against the wall, her legs kicking helplessly, one of the Sentinel¡¯s gloved hands clamped around her throat. The other¡ªgripping the hem of her dress, forcing it higher.
Her eyes were wide with terror, her fingers clawing weakly at his arm, struggling for breath.
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And the bastard was grinning.
Nigel didn¡¯t remember moving, but his boot scraped against the ground.
The Sentinel¡¯s head snapped toward him.
For a moment, silence.
Then, a slow, irritated sigh.
¡°You should walk away, boy.¡± His voice was calm¡ªtoo calm. Bored, almost. ¡°If you do, you¡¯ll live. Simple as that.¡±
Nigel¡¯s hands curled into fists.
The official tilted his head, scanning him with something between amusement and condescension. ¡°You¡¯re from the mines, aren¡¯t you? I recognize the uniform.¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°Why throw your life away for some filthy rat?¡± His grip on Elyra tightened, drawing a weak, strangled whimper from her lips. ¡°Step back. Go home. Forget this ever happened. You¡¯ll be doing yourself a favor.¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t answer.
He stepped forward.
The official¡¯s expression soured. With a growl of annoyance, he shoved Elyra aside. She hit the ground hard, her breath escaping in a sharp gasp.
Then, he lunged.
The first strike came fast¡ªa blur of movement, aimed straight for Nigel¡¯s ribs.
Nigel twisted, barely dodging, but the second attack followed instantly. A sharp, punishing kick to his stomach. Impact. The force sent him staggering back.
He clenched his teeth. The bastard was good.
Sentinels weren¡¯t just powerful. They were trained killers. Every motion refined. Every strike efficient. Nigel had the strength advantage, but the official had control. And it showed.
Blow after blow, each one deliberate. Calculated to break him down.
Every counter he attempted¡ªintercepted. Redirected. Punished.
His breath grew ragged.
His mind screamed at him, demanding to know why the hell he had stepped in at all.
He had a life. A routine. Peace.
Now? He was fighting for it. Losing it.
The next strike crashed into his jaw, snapping his head back. Pain. His body slammed against the alley wall, knees nearly buckling. Dizzy. Heavy. Wrong.
He wasn¡¯t moving the way he should.
The anger. The regret. The despair.
And then.
A voice, not his.
"You¡¯re holding back."
Cold. Familiar. Coiling inside his chest like a slow, creeping tide.
"Why?"
It slithered through his mind, smooth, quiet, heavy¡ªlike an avalanche waiting to fall.
"You know how to end this."
His body moved before his thoughts could catch up.
One sharp step forward.
His hand shot out¡ªpiercing flesh, sinking deep¡ªlike a blade through wet paper.
For a moment, nothing.
The Sentinel''s eyes widened. Lips parted; a strangled sound caught in his throat. But before he could scream¡ªbefore he could move¡ªNigel¡¯s fingers clenched around his heart.
And ripped it free.
The organ burst in his grip. Blood sprayed across the alley walls, warm, viscous, staining everything in its path.
The Sentinel swayed. A breath. A twitch. And finally, he collapsed.
His body crumpled at Nigel¡¯s feet, dead.
Nigel stood motionless, chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. The haze in his mind lifted.
Silence.
Then¡ªawareness.
His gaze fell. To the body. To the blood. To his own trembling hands.
He had won.
But at what cost?
Elyra was still there. Frozen.
Her wide, terrified eyes darted between Nigel and the lifeless body. She was shaking. Breathing too fast. Clutching at the torn fabric of her dress.
¡°Run.¡±
She flinched at his voice.
Nigel took a step toward her, forcing his tone to stay even. ¡°Go home. Say nothing. Forget this ever happened.¡±
She hesitated. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak¡ªbut then, she just nodded sharply and ran.
Nigel listened to her footsteps fade into the dark.
Then, he exhaled¡ªshaky, uneven.
His gaze dropped.
The Sentinel¡¯s lifeless stare met his. Unseeing. Unmoving. White and gold soaked in red.
His fists clenched.
What the hell had he done?
His breathing hitched. Pulse hammering against his skull. The air felt thick. Suffocating. A weight pressing against his ribs, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
No.
Not now.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his body to move¡ªdropping to his knees beside the corpse.
He had to get rid of it.
No time to think. No time to process.
His hands hit the dirt. Fingers dug into the earth, tearing through it with raw, inhuman strength. Soil ripped apart like wet clay, stones crumbling beneath his touch.
His breath came in short, sharp bursts. His muscles burned. His nails split against the rough ground.
He didn¡¯t stop.
He couldn¡¯t stop.
Dig. Breathe. Dig. Breathe.
The hole was deep enough. Deep enough to make it disappear.
Nigel grabbed the body by the collar, dragging it over, shoving it in without ceremony. He stared down for a second, his vision blurring at the edges, before he started piling the dirt back in.
Hands moving fast. Ruthless. Efficient.
Until the body was gone.
Buried, and forgotten.
Only then did he sit back, chest heaving.
But it wasn¡¯t enough.
The blood was still there. Staining his hands. His clothes. Seeping into his skin.
The metallic scent choked his lungs.
He needed to get home. Now.
Chapter 3 - Tragedy (2)
Without another thought, he pushed himself to his feet and started walking.
No¡ªrunning.
By the time he stumbled through his front door, his hands were shaking.
He peeled off his bloodstained shirt and grabbed a bucket of stored water, pouring it over himself in sharp, frenzied motions. The freezing sensation barely registered¡ªhe just needed the blood off.
The water ran red as he scrubbed hard.
A sharp, metallic beep suddenly pierced the silence.
Nigel¡¯s head snapped toward the shelf where his radio-transmitter sat, its small screen blinking. An incoming call.
He stared at it for a second, hand frozen mid-motion.
Then, with a grimace, he reached for the device¡ª
But before he could reject it, the call answered itself.
The speaker crackled to life.
A voice¡ªlow, raspy, and far too calm¡ªfiltered through.
¡°Good evening, Nigel.¡±
His entire body tensed.
¡°Who the hell are you?¡± he demanded.
A short chuckle. ¡°Your savior.¡±
Nigel¡¯s grip tightened around the transmitter. ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer my question.¡±
¡°I know what you¡¯ve done,¡± the man continued, as if Nigel hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°And I know what¡¯s coming.¡±
Silence.
The weight of those words sank deep into Nigel¡¯s gut.
¡°¡What¡¯s coming?¡±
¡°The Sentinels,¡± the voice replied smoothly. ¡°And not just a clean-up squad. They¡¯ll burn the whole city down for this.¡±
His blood went cold.
The voice continued, calm and unbothered. ¡°There¡¯s only one way out. You need to escape the Eleventh Ring. And you don¡¯t have much time.¡±
Nigel clenched his jaw. ¡°Escape? You say that like I can just walk out.¡±
¡°Oh, you can¡¯t. But there¡¯s a way.¡± The man¡¯s tone darkened slightly. ¡°Go back. Find the body.¡±
A flicker of alarm shot through Nigel¡¯s spine. ¡°What? Why?¡±
¡°The Sentinel had an entry ticket for the Chaos Tournament.¡±
A heavy pause.
Nigel¡¯s breath caught in his throat.
¡°How the hell do you know this?¡± he asked, his voice edged with suspicion.
The man chuckled again, low and knowing. ¡°I know a lot of things.¡±
¡°That¡¯s not an answer.¡±
¡°No,¡± the man admitted. ¡°But we could keep chatting until the Sentinels arrive and kill everyone, including you. Or you can start moving.¡±
The words had barely settled when a deafening explosion shook the city.
Nigel whirled around, his breath catching in his throat.
Outside, distant screams filled the air.
Flashes of fire reflected off the sky.
They were here.
His time was up.
Nigel barely heard the raspy voice over the ringing in his ears.
¡°Go.¡±
He was already out the door, sprinting toward the alley where he had buried the Sentinel. The streets were bathed in flickering firelight, the screams of the dying twisting through the night. Smoke thickened the air, stinging his lungs as he ran.
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Then he saw them¡ªSentinels, their white and gold uniforms stained with blood, marching down the main road like hunters.
No way through.
His teeth clenched. He had to take another route.
His feet moved before he could think, turning sharply down a side street. The nearest path would take him through an old apartment complex¡ªone he had been inside countless times.
Tom¡¯s building.
Nigel rushed in, darting through the dimly lit hallways, his breath coming in sharp gasps. But as he passed the second floor, something stopped him cold.
Tom¡¯s apartment door was blown open, hanging off its hinges like a gaping wound.
His whole body locked up.
Go. You don¡¯t have time.
But his feet refused to move.
After a moment of hesitation, he stepped inside.
The first thing he saw was the dining table.
Tom lay across it, his body broken beyond repair. His arms sprawled limply at his sides, his once-strong hands curled into rigid fists. Deep burns and jagged cuts marred his skin, the wounds looking almost deliberate¡ªcruel in their precision. His face was frozen in an expression of pure agony, eyes hollow and unseeing.
And across the room, against the wall, was Lilly.
She was leaning against it, as if she had just slumped down to rest.
But she wasn¡¯t resting.
Her clothes were torn, her skin bruised and bloodied, and her wide, lifeless eyes were filled with tears that had never been wiped away.
Nigel¡¯s throat closed.
His vision tilted, the room growing smaller, tighter, suffocating.
His knees buckled, and he gripped the doorway for support. His chest heaved violently, trying to drag in air, but his lungs weren¡¯t working right. His mind was breaking apart, unraveling at the seams.
He should have accepted their kindness.
Tom had treated him like a son¡ªalways offering him food, help, company. Lilly had taught him how to cook, how to take care of a home. They had wanted him to be part of their family, and he had never let himself accept it.
And now¡ªthis.
His fingers dug into the wood of the doorway, nails splintering against it. His body trembled violently. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
Everything inside him collapsed inward.
Then¡ª
"Give it to me."
The voice.
"Let me take control."
His breathing slowed and the trembling stopped. He had let go.
For the first time since stepping into this nightmare, his body felt light.
And just like that, Nigel was gone.
The figure in the doorway straightened, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off a long, deep slumber. His muscles tense to an almost inhuman point.
He breathed in, slow and deep, tasting the air for the first time in far too long.
Then, he smiled.
Not Nigel¡¯s usual smirk.
No¡ªthis was something wide, twisted, and hungry.
His eyes flicked to the broken corpses. The smile faded.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring.
Tom had been a good man. A rare thing in this world.
And Lilly¡ªshe had been kind. A warmth Nigel had never let himself accept.
They didn¡¯t deserve this.
With slow, deliberate movements, he walked toward the dining table and gently adjusted Tom¡¯s arms, crossing them over his chest. He smoothed out his bloodied clothes as best he could, positioning him like he was only resting.
Then he turned to Lilly.
Carefully, he fixed her torn dress, making sure she was covered. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, wiping away the dried tears on her cheek with an unusual gentleness. He lifted her up and placed her alongside Tom, and despite everything, they would be resting together now.
It was the best he could do for them.
A silent moment passed.
Then, the smile returned.
His fingers curled into fists.
Now, the ones responsible would pay.
He turned from the bodies, stepping through the wrecked doorway and out into the burning city.
The night was waiting.
And he was ready to paint it red.
The city was burning, and outside, standing in the main road, a squadron of Sentinels laughed as they ripped through what was left of the district, setting homes ablaze, gunning down helpless civilians, enjoying themselves.
The smile split into a full, wretched grin.
¡°How delightful!¡±
The first Sentinel barely had time to react.
One moment, he was laughing. The next, a hand was inside his throat.
A wet, choking sound escaped him as the figure tore through flesh and muscle, ripping his larynx free in a single motion. The body hit the ground, twitching.
The others turned¡ªtoo slow.
The next man¡¯s ribs caved in as a boot slammed into his chest, sending his heart bursting through his back like shattered fruit. He was dead before he hit the cobblestone.
Two of them tried to raise their weapons.
The figure was already in the air.
He landed between them, bare hands splitting skulls open like melons. Bone fragments showered the ground as what remained of their heads caved in under his grip.
Another Sentinel screamed, turning to flee¡ªhis mistake.
The figure caught him by the ankle and swung him like a club, slamming him into the side of a building. Bones snapped like dry twigs. The body slid to the ground in an unrecognizable heap.
¡°Not so though now, right?¡± he said, as he smashed the skull of the already dead Sentinel.
And all he could do was grin.
He laughed¡ªa wild, unhinged sound, letting the chaos of battle consume him.
More.
He needed more.
By the time he reached the burial site, the figure¡¯s hands were soaked in viscera, his clothes soaked in gore.
He dropped to his knees, hands plunging into the dirt with reckless abandon.
Faster. Faster.
The body was still there.
He yanked it free, digging through the corpse¡¯s pockets with desperate hunger. His fingers brushed against something metallic.
The ticket.
There it was.
The grin faded slightly, and strength drained away.
"Tch. I suppose that¡¯s my cue."
His fingers curled around the metal slip, but the body was no longer his.
Nigel gasped as his consciousness snapped back.
His hands were trembling. His chest was heaving. The stench of death surrounded him, thick and suffocating.
And then he heard it.
The mechanical click of heat-plasma guns being loaded.
He looked up.
Dozens of Sentinels had him surrounded, weapons aimed at his head.
¡°Hands where we can see them!¡± one of them barked.
Nigel¡¯s grip tightened around the entry ticket.
He had no choice.
Instinct kicked in, and he slammed the ticket against his chest.
Immediately, the metal melted into his skin, spreading like veins of light across his body.
The Sentinels opened fire, but it was too late.
A multicolored vortex exploded outward, swallowing Nigel whole.
For an instant, he felt like he was being ripped apart and rebuilt all at once. The weight of reality twisted, folded, shattered¡ª
And then, silence.
The Eleventh Ring was gone.
Nigel was no longer there.
Chapter 4 - The Chaos Tournament
The first thing Nigel noticed was warmth¡ªnot the smothering heat of fire and destruction, but something softer. The dim glow of candlelight flickered against the walls, casting elongated shadows that swayed with the slow, rhythmic dance of the flames. The scent of aged wood mixed with the faint traces of tobacco, settling into the air like something old and lived-in.
His fingers twitched.
The last thing he remembered was the Sentinels surrounding him, weapons raised, their voices distant and unimportant beneath the crushing realization that there was no escape. He had been outnumbered, hunted. And now¡ª
Now, he was here.
His eyes snapped open.
The ceiling loomed high above him, the dark mahogany walls lined with towering bookshelves, each packed with tomes that smelled of dust and history. The room was too elegant, too foreign, its atmosphere weighted with an unsettling stillness that made his skin itch. Above, dozens of floating candles hovered in the air, their soft glow giving the space an almost ethereal quality.
A voice pulled him from his disorientation.
¡°This is the one.¡±
Nigel tensed immediately.
Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself upright, muscles stiff, breaths measured. The remnants of sleep clung to him, thick and disorienting, but he forced his thoughts into focus.
"Where¡?" His voice was hoarse, the word rough against his throat. He exhaled, blinking away the haze. "Where am I?"
¡°You arrived here a few hours ago. Unconscious.¡± The man¡¯s tone was smooth, practiced. ¡°If you made it this far, it¡¯s to register for the Chaos Tournament.¡±
Nigel¡¯s gaze snapped toward the speaker.
The man appeared middle-aged, thin but composed, his presence exuding an effortless control that put Nigel further on edge. A quiet, unreadable authority wrapped around him like a second skin. He sat leaned back in an ornate chair, pipe in hand, its tip smoldering faintly as tendrils of smoke curled upward. His glasses reflected the warm glow of the candles, obscuring his eyes just enough to make him feel like an enigma.
A few feet away, a woman stood in silence.
Tall, elegant, her arms crossed in a way that made it impossible to tell if she was relaxed or simply waiting. She was watching him¡ªnot idly, but with a quiet intent, as if she were studying something beneath the surface.
¡°Bernard D¡¯Traue,¡± the man introduced, gesturing to himself with a small, practiced motion before nodding toward his companion. ¡°And this is Amelie.¡±
Nigel remained still.
His heartbeat was still too fast. His body was still too ready to move. His mind kept slipping backward, pulled toward the memories he didn¡¯t want to relive.
Fire. Blood. The bodies he left behind.
He rubbed his temple, forcing his thoughts to quiet. "Yeah," he muttered, voice flat. "I¡¯m here to register."
But his mind was still calculating, still weighing the risks. Still deciding if this was a trap.
Bernard smiled faintly, something knowing behind the expression. ¡°Then let¡¯s get to it.¡±
He rose from his chair with the kind of effortless grace that suggested someone accustomed to control. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he already knew that the young man wasn¡¯t at ease.
Nigel forced himself to move, trailing behind them through the massive hall.
His senses stayed sharp, the weight of unease pressing against him with every step. Every instinct told him that something wasn¡¯t right. The silence felt too curated, the lack of guards too intentional.
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They entered a smaller room, where the decor was stripped down to the essentials¡ªa wooden desk, two chairs, and little else. The space felt more utilitarian, free from unnecessary embellishments, designed solely for function.
A place for negotiations. Or interrogations.
¡°Take a seat,¡± Bernard said, motioning toward one of the chairs.
Nigel sat, but he didn¡¯t relax.
His hands remained on the arms of the chair, his body slightly angled forward, weight balanced, ready to lunge at the first sign of danger.
Bernard settled across from him, exhaling another slow breath as he adjusted a stack of papers. "We¡¯ll make this quick."
The silence that followed wasn¡¯t empty. It carried something weightier, deliberate, a moment stretched just long enough to see if Nigel would react to it.
Then¡ª
¡°Name, age, weight, and height?¡±
Nigel exhaled, his expression unreadable. ¡°Nigel Lowell. Twenty-one. A hundred and eighty-one centimeters. Seventy-eight kilograms.¡±
Bernard hummed, jotting something down. His hand moved with an ease that suggested he had done this countless times before. "I assume you have skills, then?"
Nigel hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Then, he nodded. "Yeah."
Bernard¡¯s gaze lifted, meeting his over the rim of his glasses, studying him in the kind of way that suggested he already knew the answer to the next question.
¡°And how many do you possess?¡±
¡°Skip.¡±
Bernard smirked faintly, unfazed. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s the dominant attribute?¡±
¡°Next question.¡±
Bernard let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he tapped his pen lightly against the desk. ¡°Pass, pass¡ You¡¯re a cautious one, aren¡¯t you?¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t bother answering.
He simply watched as Bernard adjusted his glasses and set his pen aside. ¡°Very well. You¡¯re officially registered for the Chaos Tournament. That easy, right?¡±
He then tossed a small, black wristband to Nigel.
"This is your lifeline in the Tournament, the Chaos Bracelet" he said. "It tracks your status¡ªhealth, stamina, injuries. It logs your combat performance, marks your location, and even keeps record of your inventory. Without it, you¡¯re blind in the field. But as you¡¯re just a newbie, there are a lot of locked functions that you¡¯ll have to earn."
Nigel picked it up, turning it over in his hands. The material was smooth and cold, impossibly lightweight yet undeniably sturdy. Despite its unassuming appearance, he could feel there was more to it.
Bernard took a slow drag from his pipe, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. "It also holds an initial balance of ten thousand credits. Use it wisely."
Nigel slid the wristband onto his wrist, feeling it tighten automatically to a perfect fit. A faint pulse of energy rippled through it, barely noticeable.
Bernard leaned back, his sharp gaze settling on Nigel. "Now, let¡¯s talk about survival."
Nigel flexed his fingers, his grip on the wristband tightening slightly. Something told him that whatever lay ahead, this piece of technology was going to be the difference between life and death.
¡°The Tournament is brutal,¡± Bernard continued, his voice unhurried. ¡°A competition where most never make it past the first few months.¡±
Nigel said nothing, but his mind sharpened, absorbing every word.
Bernard studied him for a moment before continuing. ¡°You know about the Rings, don¡¯t you? The Chaos Tournament is the only way to unlock more of them. But¡ª¡± he paused, tilting his head slightly¡ª ¡°it has been over forty years since the last one was opened.¡±
The words lingered between them, deliberate and heavy.
¡°Forty years,¡± Bernard repeated, tapping his pipe against the ashtray. ¡°In all that time, no one has been able to clear the Twelfth Stage.¡±
Nigel¡¯s fingers brushed against the wristband as his thoughts drifted.
Forty years.
How many had died chasing whatever lay beyond the Stage?
Bernard¡¯s gaze remained sharp. ¡°The difficulty is simple. Each Stage is twice as hard as the previous one. By the time you reach the Twelfth, you¡¯ll be facing a challenge two thousand times more difficult than the First.¡±
Nigel barely reacted.
¡°If,¡± Bernard added, ¡°you even make it that far.¡±
Finally, Nigel spoke, his voice flat. ¡°And what¡¯s the First Stage?¡±
Bernard exhaled, pleased to see he was still interested. ¡°A city. Massive. The size of an entire Ring.¡±
Nigel processed that quickly. ¡°And the challenge?¡±
Bernard smirked. ¡°You¡¯ll find out once you enter.¡±
Leaning back, Nigel ran a hand down his face. His body still ached. His mind was still catching up. He had barely escaped the Eleventh Ring, only to land himself in something far more dangerous.
Bernard closed the folder in front of him and stood. ¡°That¡¯s all you need to know for now. The portal to the First Stage opens in a week. You¡¯ve been assigned Room Sixty-Seven¡ªjust head upstairs, and you¡¯ll find it. It would be good to wash yourself and rest¡±
Nigel exhaled, rising from his seat. ¡°Got it.¡±
Bernard gave a slight nod. ¡°Good luck.¡±
Nigel turned toward the door¡ªonly to collide with someone.
Amelie.
She had entered hastily, barely stopping herself before impact.
¡°Oh, sorry,¡± she muttered, stepping aside.
Nigel gave a short nod and brushed past her, heading for the stairs.
Behind him, the door clicked shut.
Amelie lingered for a moment, her gaze flickering toward Bernard. ¡°So¡ he¡¯s her son.¡±
Bernard sighed, adjusting his glasses before setting them down. ¡°After all these years, a new variable enters the equation. And, just as I feared¡ he came willingly.¡±
Amelie crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. ¡°We failed. But now that he¡¯s here¡ we have another opportunity.¡±
Bernard¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°Indeed. We should inform the boss.¡±
A few minutes later, they exited the room.
Bernard¡¯s eyes drifted toward a locked cabinet in the corner of the hall, where faint breathing could be heard.
¡°Time to clean up loose ends.¡±, he said, while materializing a dagger.
There was a lot to do.
Chapter 5 - The First Stage (1)
Nigel pushed the door open, stepping into his assigned room¡ªand immediately felt how out of place it was.
The space was large, too large, with a level of luxury that felt almost mocking. A massive bed with silken sheets, soft carpeting beneath his boots, and dark mahogany furniture that gleamed under the chandelier¡¯s golden glow. The room carried an air of refinement, a deliberate elegance, every detail curated to fit a life of wealth and comfort.
His gaze swept across the space, taking in what had once belonged to the Sentinel High Official who had carried the ticket before him. Whoever he had been, he had clearly lived well.
Nigel didn¡¯t care.
He was too exhausted¡ªphysically, mentally, in ways that went beyond simple fatigue. His body ached from days of strain, his mind still caught in the aftermath of everything that had happened.
Crossing the room, he made his way to a small table near the window, where a neatly arranged set of rations had been left for him. Tearing open the packaging, he ate quickly, barely tasting the dried meat, fruit, and sweet bread as he forced it down. His thoughts were too heavy, too restless to allow him to focus on something as simple as food.
When he finished, he headed toward the bathroom.
It was just as extravagant as the rest of the suite¡ªa wide marble tub, a mirror spanning an entire wall, rows of pristine towels and high-quality toiletries arranged with meticulous care.
He peeled off his tattered, bloodstained clothes and tossed them into the trash. There was no saving them.
Stepping into the shower, he turned the water as hot as it would go and let it cascade over him, feeling the grime and blood swirl away in thin red streams down the drain. The warmth should have been soothing, but the tension in his body refused to unravel.
His mind wandered back to the Eleventh Ring.
The heat of the flames. The screams echoing through the streets. The smell of charred flesh lingering in the air.
Tom and Lilly¡¯s bodies¡ªbroken, lifeless, beyond saving.
His fingers curled into tight fists.
The water scalded against his skin, but he barely noticed.
Forcing himself to move, he turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel as he lifted his gaze to the mirror.
For the first time since escaping, he really looked at himself.
His reflection stared back¡ªshort, damp black hair hanging messily over his forehead, deep amber eyes that carried an exhaustion far too heavy for someone his age. Shadows clung beneath them, his features sharp with fatigue.
He had no right to look this tired at twenty-one.
He stood there for a long moment, unmoving.
Then¡ªred flooded his vision.
His pulse spiked violently, a shock of rage slamming through his chest like a hammer.
The images came fast, sharp, unstoppable.
Burning streets. Mutilated corpses. Blood soaking into stone.
A deep, writhing anger coiled inside him, dark and consuming.
Something inside him snapped.
The mirror shattered¡ª
But not just the mirror.
The entire wall behind it collapsed.
The force of his strike sent splintered wood and fractured stone crumbling into dust, the impact ringing through the room like a violent exhale.
Then¡ªsilence.
Nigel stood there, breathing hard, his fist still outstretched, his mind catching up with what he had just done.
The anger was already fading, draining out of him as quickly as it had surged, leaving behind only the familiar weight of emptiness.
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He let out a slow breath.
Reckless.
But it didn¡¯t matter.
Turning away from the wreckage, he moved toward the wardrobe, retrieving a fresh set of clothes. The fabric was lightweight yet durable¡ªblack tactical wear, flexible and made for combat.
Pulling the gear on, he barely registered the act of dressing before making his way back to the bed.
The moment his body hit the mattress, exhaustion took over.
Sleep came quickly.
The week passed without incident.
Nigel stayed in his room, avoiding unnecessary interactions, using the time to rest and let his thoughts settle. The silence suited him. It gave him space to push aside the weight of everything that had happened, to compartmentalize the memories clawing at the edges of his mind.
Then, just hours before the portal to the First Stage was set to open, a notification flashed across his wristband.
[The Armory is now open. All participants may gear up before entry.]
He didn¡¯t hesitate.
The armory was massive¡ªan industrial storage hall that stretched endlessly in both directions, its towering shelves lined with an overwhelming selection of weaponry. Ranged, melee, explosives, traps¡ªevery variety of killing tool imaginable sat in waiting, gleaming under the artificial lights. Some were neatly displayed in reinforced cases, others mounted along the walls like relics of war, all waiting to be claimed.
As Nigel stepped inside, his shoulder collided with someone.
The impact was hard enough to send the other person stumbling backward, their balance completely thrown off before they landed on the floor with a sharp thud.
Nigel glanced down.
The guy barely reached his chest in height, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, his bowl-cut sitting awkwardly above a pair of oversized glasses. He had the look of someone who had no business being here. Thin, untrained. A nerd, by all accounts. Certainly not a fighter.
The man adjusted his glasses, blinking up at Nigel with wide eyes. "S-Sorry!" he stammered, scrambling to his feet in a rush.
Nigel reached out, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up with little effort. ¡°You good?¡±
The man nodded quickly. ¡°Yeah, thanks!¡± Then, without another word, he darted past him, disappearing into the rows of weapons.
Nigel watched him go for a moment before shaking his head.
Someone like that wasn¡¯t going to last long.
Pushing the thought aside, he turned his attention back to the armory and began inspecting the weapons.
The first thing that caught his eye was a rifle.
Sleek, lightweight, fitted with a long-range scope and chambered for Titanium-2 bullets¡ªthe only kind capable of piercing the defenses of a true Skill User. Lethal. Precise. But expensive. Ammunition like that wasn¡¯t just rare; it was costly and difficult to replenish.
He meditated for a few seconds, but decided not to take it.
Then, his eyes fell on something else.
A spear.
Its entire surface was vantablack, absorbing every trace of light that touched it, giving it the eerie appearance of a weapon carved from shadow itself. The name engraved on its side read:
Reaper.
Something about it felt right.
Nigel reached out, his fingers trailing along the weapon¡¯s edge. The curved blade was impossibly sharp, the metal carrying a sense of finality, as if it had been forged for a singular, absolute purpose.
He had been trained to wield all kinds of weapons. But this one¡ªthis one called to him.
Without hesitation, he took it after paying a hefty sum of credits.
Strapping the spear securely across his back, Nigel grabbed a few extra supplies¡ªa small collection of rations, medical kits, and a handful of simple traps that could buy him time if things went south. He didn¡¯t linger. There was no reason to.
The moment of entry was only minutes away.
Exiting the armory, he made his way toward the portal.
It stood at the center of an open field¡ªa massive circular platform, its surface lined with intricate patterns that pulsed faintly with energy. A shimmering barrier surrounded it, shifting and flickering like a living thing, its translucent glow stretching high into the sky. The air around it crackled with an almost imperceptible hum, the sheer force of whatever power it held making the hairs on his arms stand on end.
Around him, hundreds of participants had gathered.
They came in all shapes and sizes¡ªsome clad in heavy armor, others wearing little more than rags. Some carried weapons so massive it was a miracle they could lift them, while others bore nothing at all, their confidence suggesting they had other means of fighting. There was no uniformity here, no single thread tying them together. Only one truth united them¡ªall of them were here to survive.
Beyond the portal, a city loomed on the horizon.
Its towering skyscrapers gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, their exteriors pristine, untouched by time, war, or decay. The skyline stretched endlessly, far too large to belong to any ordinary metropolis. It wasn¡¯t just a city¡ªit was a world of its own.
The First Stage.
The one Bernard had mentioned.
Before Nigel could examine it further, a voice boomed from above, echoing across the field like a force of nature.
¡°Looks like everyone¡¯s here!¡±
Nigel¡¯s muscles tensed.
The voice had no visible source. It didn¡¯t come from speakers, nor from any discernible figure standing among them. It simply was, carrying across the landscape with an unnatural clarity that sent an instinctive warning through his gut.
¡°Participants of the Chaos Tournament! You are now in the First Stage! To advance, you must complete a challenge!¡±
A hush fell over the crowd.
¡°Right now, there are over ten thousand of you! To pass to the Second Stage, you must collect fifty Diamantines!¡±
Murmurs rippled through the field. Nigel¡¯s jaw clenched.
¡°How do you get Diamantines? Simple! By eliminating other participants! Each opponent you kill will drop one! You have twenty-four hours! Anyone who fails to gather fifty by the end of the time limit will be eliminated from the Tournament!¡±
Eliminated.
Nigel already knew exactly what that meant.
No second chances. No mercy.
¡°There are no other rules! Form teams if you wish or go solo! Do whatever it takes to survive!¡±
A countdown appeared in the sky, burning bright against the blue expanse.
Three.
Nigel tightened his grip around the Reaper, his mind already shifting into combat mode.
Two.
Some participants had already drawn their weapons. Others were locking onto their first targets, muscles coiled, ready to strike.
One.
The moment the countdown hit zero, the entire field shattered into light.
Chapter 6 - The First Stage (2)
When Nigel opened his eyes, he was somewhere else entirely.
The shift was instant, disorienting. His stomach lurched, the world tilting violently beneath him, his insides twisting like they were being wrung dry. Before he could stop himself, he doubled over, retching onto the pavement.
The sharp taste of bile burned his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still breathing heavily, and forced himself to take in his surroundings.
Towering skyscrapers stretched toward the sky, their mirrored surfaces catching the sunlight in a way that made his eyes sting. The streets were immaculate, untouched by time or decay, every road lined with sleek, modern structures that felt out of place after the chaos of the Eleventh Ring.
A city. Pristine. Perfect.
And yet, something about it felt wrong.
A flicker of movement overhead caught his attention.
Nigel squinted, gaze snapping upward just in time to see two military aircraft slicing through the sky at terrifying speed. Their sleek black frames wove between the buildings with practiced precision, engines screaming as machine guns roared to life.
A burst of gunfire shredded through the air.
One of the aircraft¡ªsmaller, weaker¡ªtook a direct hit.
The explosion detonated midair, a shockwave of fire and metal ripping across the skyline.
Shrapnel scattered in every direction, flames consuming the side of a nearby building. Tons of concrete and steel gave way, collapsing in a deafening cascade that sent tremors rolling through the streets.
Nigel gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the impact.
This isn¡¯t just a city.
It¡¯s a battlefield.
His gut twisted¡ªnot from fear, but from something deeper. Unease.
Something felt wrong.
Not about the city.
About the Reaper.
His fingers had been gripping the spear since he arrived, but for the first time, he felt something from it.
A pulse.
Not a heartbeat¡ªsomething deeper, something aware.
Slowly, he unstrapped the weapon from his back, turning it over in his hands. The vantablack metal drank in the light, its curved blade catching nothing, reflecting nothing, as if the material refused to acknowledge its own existence.
His fingers traced the razor-sharp edge.
It was a spear. Wasn¡¯t it?
Then why did it feel like it wasn¡¯t supposed to be?
A frown tugged at his lips as his grip tightened.
Instinct took over. Without thinking, he shifted his stance.
And the Reaper moved.
Not in the way a weapon should.
It flowed.
The shaft elongated, the blade expanding outward, curving into a massive, deadly arc. The metal rippled like liquid before solidifying again, its new form sleek, impossibly sharp.
A Scythe, meant to execute.
Nigel¡¯s breath hitched.
It changed.
A weapon that could morph.
A slow chill crept up his spine as realization settled.
¡°What the hell are you?¡±
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Nigel flexed his fingers.
The moment he did, the Reaper shifted¡ªits form flowing seamlessly back into a spear, the metal folding into itself like it had never changed at all.
He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. "Alright. That¡¯s good to know."
Holding the spear, he started walking.
The city stretched before him, eerily silent, its towering skyscrapers casting long shadows across the immaculate streets. The distant echoes of screams and explosions were the only real signs of life, sharp bursts of chaos cutting through the unnatural stillness.
Then¡ªa presence.
It crawled up his spine, a prickle of unease that set his instincts on edge. Someone was watching him.
His grip tightened around the Reaper.
He moved.
Spinning mid-step, he swung the spear without hesitation.
Steel clashed against steel.
His attacker had reacted just in time, leaping back as the Reaper¡¯s blade carved through empty space.
Nigel¡¯s gaze locked onto him.
A boy¡ªshort, wiry, younger than him, built for speed. His bright green hair stood out starkly against his sharp, narrow features, his lean frame carrying an energy that was both tense and coiled. In each hand, he gripped a dagger, the blades coated in a thick, purple liquid.
Poison.
Nigel took a step back, keeping the Reaper¡¯s blade between them. "I see we have our first participant," he said, his tone even.
The boy didn¡¯t answer.
He just lunged.
No hesitation. No warning. Just pure intent to kill.
Nigel barely dodged in time, the tip of the dagger slicing through his sleeve, missing skin by a fraction. But he could feel it: the poison touched his skin, causing a burning sensation, and then, immediate sluggishness on his left arm.
Fast. Too fast.
He swung low, aiming for the boy¡¯s legs, but his opponent flipped backward, avoiding the attack with terrifying ease.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he lashed out¡ªa sharp, precise kick aimed straight at Nigel¡¯s ribs.
Nigel blocked with his forearm, absorbing most of the impact¡ªbut the dagger followed immediately, slashing toward his throat.
Shit¡ª
He jerked his head back at the last second, the blade missing his neck by inches.
The kid wasn¡¯t just fast¡ªhe was skilled.
Adjusting his grip, Nigel countered, slashing toward his opponent¡¯s hands.
The blade connected¡ªa deep slice across the boy¡¯s wrist.
His grip faltered. One of the daggers slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the pavement.
A chance¡ª
But before Nigel could capitalize on it, his opponent ducked low, twisting his body¡ªand drove a fist straight into Nigel¡¯s nose.
Pain exploded through his skull. His vision blurred, his eyes immediately stinging with involuntary tears.
Nigel staggered, his vision swimming as he tried to blink the tears away. But the boy was already closing in.
A blur of motion¡ª
He was rushing forward, dagger aimed straight for Nigel¡¯s heart.
Too fast.
Nigel wasn¡¯t going to block in time.
¡°Useless.¡±
The boy smirked, certain of his victory.
But he had made a mistake.
He thought Nigel was still holding a spear.
The Reaper wasn¡¯t only a spear.
Nigel¡¯s grip shifted instinctively.
The weapon morphed in his hands, its shape twisting like something alive. The staff elongated, the blade unfurling into a massive, curved edge that gleamed wickedly under the city lights.
For a split second, the boy¡¯s eyes widened in shock.
Too late.
The Reaper carved through him, the curved blade slicing cleanly from side to side.
A short, strangled scream.
Then¡ªsilence.
The boy collapsed, body convulsing before dissolving into shimmering blue light.
Nigel stood still; breath heavy.
His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, a relentless, deafening drumbeat in his ears. His fingers curled around the Reaper¡¯s shaft, damp with sweat, his body still primed for battle.
He watched, surprised, as the last remnants of the boy faded into nothing, leaving behind only a single, glowing gemstone.
A Diamantine.
Slowly, Nigel bent down, picking it up between his fingers.
It was smooth, impossibly light, pulsing with a soft, cold blue glow.
A reminder.
This is what happens if you lose.
His jaw clenched.
He had won.
But barely.
That kid¡ªhe had been faster, better trained. Nigel had only survived because of one lucky move.
His grip tightened around the gemstone.
¡°How weak am I really?¡±
He exhaled sharply, shaking off the lingering tension. Forty-nine more to go.
The words left his lips quietly as he stared at the empty space where, just moments ago, a body had been.
He didn¡¯t like killing, but he had no choice.
Alongside the Diamantine, the boy had dropped a small collection of supplies. Nigel sorted through them quickly¡ªa few rations, some basic survival gear¡ªbefore his eyes landed on something far more useful.
The poisoned daggers.
A flashing image of his mother using dagger techniques came to his mind, but there was no time to dwell on it.
He crouched down, picking them up carefully.
They were light, well-balanced, crafted for speed and precision. The purple liquid coating the edges carried a distinct, acrid scent¡ªnot lethal, but paralytic.
That could come in handy.
As he ventured deeper into the city, the streets grew narrower, the towering buildings pressing in from both sides, their sheer size creating a sense of confinement that settled heavily in his chest. The further he walked, the stronger the feeling became¡ªa creeping awareness, an itch beneath his skin.
He was being watched.
Not from one direction. From everywhere.
His jaw clenched.
Above him, the same disembodied voice from before echoed across the city, amplified as if carried by unseen speakers.
¡°Three participants have collected fifty Diamantines and advanced to the Second Stage!¡±
Nigel stopped mid-step.
Already?
It had been barely an hour since the tournament began. That meant, somewhere in this city, people had already wiped out dozens of participants¡ªeffortlessly, systematically.
He exhaled sharply and pressed forward.
Eventually, the narrow streets opened into a wide plaza, a space where several major roads intersected. The open expanse should have felt like a relief after the city¡¯s oppressive corridors, but something about it was wrong.
Scattered throughout the square were twisted metallic structures¡ªdistorted sculptures shaped like animals, their steel-and-wood bodies warped beyond recognition. Their elongated limbs stretched outward at weird angles, their hollow eyes seeming to follow him as he stepped forward.
They were just statues.
Weren¡¯t they?
Chapter 7 - The First Stage (3)
Something buzzed past his ear.
Nigel stopped.
His muscles tensed as he slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing at something nearly invisible¡ªa thin, taut wire stretching from one of the twisted metal sculptures into a side street.
A trap.
His gaze flicked across the plaza, scanning the surroundings.
More wires. Dozens of them.
They wove through the square, threading between buildings, lacing through alleyways, some so thin they were nearly undetectable in the dim light.
A bad place to fight.
Carefully, he moved forward, stepping over the wires, keeping his senses sharp. Every movement was calculated, every step deliberate¡ª
"You should find a team."
Nigel spun instantly, his grip tightening around the Reaper.
At the edge of the plaza, leaning against one of the twisted sculptures, stood a familiar figure.
Amelie.
Her arms were crossed, her usual unreadable expression in place as she watched him with cool detachment.
Nigel narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here? Are you a participant?"
"Not exactly." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her tone casual. "But that¡¯s not important. What¡¯s important is that things are going to get¡ messy."
His grip on his weapon tightened. "And why are you telling me this?"
She didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she simply gestured to his right.
"Go that way. You¡¯ll find potential teammates. Form a group before nightfall."
Nigel hesitated.
Then, just like that, Amelie disappeared behind one of the sculptures.
His jaw clenched.
Every instinct screamed at him not to trust her. But if what she said was true¡
He didn¡¯t have much of a choice.
Letting out a slow breath, Nigel turned and started walking.
The further he went, the darker the streets became.
The towering buildings loomed overhead, packed so tightly together that sunlight barely reached the ground. Long, twisted shadows stretched across the pavement, swallowing entire sections of the path in an eerie twilight.
The city felt different here.
Wrong.
His entire body was on edge, every nerve primed for an unseen threat.
Something wasn¡¯t right.
His instincts screamed at him to turn back, to run, but there was no other path forward.
Moving carefully, he slipped behind a large dumpster, keeping low, using it as cover.
His fingers hovered over the Reaper.
He wasn¡¯t alone
Someone was here. Close.
He could feel it¡ªthe weight of unseen eyes locked onto him, pressing against the back of his skull like a persistent itch. His muscles tensed, every instinct primed for an attack¡ª
"Want to team up?"
The voice came directly in front of him.
Nigel¡¯s heart nearly exploded out of his chest.
Without thinking, he swung.
His fist collided with flesh, the impact solid and brutal.
The person dropped instantly, crumpling to the pavement with a dull thud.
Nigel stood frozen, breath heavy, heartbeat thundering in his ears.
What the hell¡ª?
Then, as he got a better look at the unconscious body, recognition clicked.
Blond hair. Bowl cut. Oversized glasses.
The same scrawny guy who had bumped into him at the armory.
Nigel exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. Just great.
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A groan broke the silence.
The boy stirred weakly, hands fumbling to adjust his crooked glasses. "Wh¡ what happened?"
Nigel crossed his arms, unimpressed. "You jumped out at me. I punched you. You passed out."
The boy sat up slowly, rubbing his nose. "Oh¡ yeah. That¡¯s on me."
He sniffled, blinking through watery eyes. "How long was I out?"
"Ten minutes."
Nigel reached into his inventory, pulled out a handkerchief, and tossed it toward him.
The boy caught it clumsily, dabbing at his nose. "Damn. Well, thanks for not killing me."
Another sniffle. He adjusted his glasses with a sheepish grin.
"Guess I should introduce myself¡ªWilliam. William Stoneswood."
Nigel stared at him, unimpressed.
William let out an awkward chuckle. "Sooo¡ funny story. I was kinda watching you."
Nigel¡¯s expression darkened instantly. "Excuse me?"
William shot his hands up in surrender. "Wait, wait, I know how that sounds! Let me explain!"
Dusting himself off, he stood. "I have this skill. I can blend into my surroundings. It¡¯s sort of like turning invisible."
He hesitated.
"And, uh¡ I may have been watching you since your first fight."
Nigel¡¯s jaw tightened.
This kid had been following him since the beginning?
William cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. ¡°And, well¡ I thought maybe you¡¯d want to form a team?¡±
Nigel¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What makes you think I won¡¯t just kill you when you least expect it?¡±
William froze.
The silence stretched.
Then¡ªhe let out a nervous laugh, forced and paper-thin.
¡°Uh¡ because I¡¯m a really fun guy?¡±
¡°Fine. I¡¯ll team up with you.¡±
William¡¯s face lit up instantly.
¡°But,¡± Nigel continued, voice flat, ¡°on one condition.¡±
The enthusiasm flickered. ¡°What condition?¡±
¡°Tell me your abilities.¡±
William hesitated for only a second before answering. ¡°My main skill is the one I already told you about. I can blend into my surroundings¡ªgood for spying, not much else.¡± He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I¡¯m¡ pretty bad at fighting. And I don¡¯t have any other skills.¡±
He adjusted his glasses, then looked up. ¡°What about you?¡±
Nigel studied him carefully before responding.
William barely stood one-sixty-five centimeters tall, thin, frail-looking, with that strange bowl-cut that made him seem younger than he should. But the Tournament only allowed participants eighteen and older, which meant he had to be close to Nigel¡¯s age.
Finally, Nigel answered. ¡°I specialize in close combat and firearms. That¡¯s about it.¡±
It was half a lie.
There was no way in hell he was going to reveal the full truth about his abilities. Not yet. He needed William to believe their exchange of information had been fair.
Besides, he was sure he wasn¡¯t the only one hiding things too.
William frowned slightly but didn¡¯t push further. ¡°Alright¡ well, we still need forty-nine more Diamantines. I hate to say it, but our best bet is for me to scout for potential targets and for you to take them down.¡±
His voice carried clear reluctance.
¡°You don¡¯t like the idea of killing,¡± Nigel observed.
William sighed. ¡°No, I don¡¯t. But what other choice do we have?¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t answer.
Instead, he said, ¡°We should find at least one or two more people to join us. Once night falls, things are going to get violent.¡±
William¡¯s eyebrows furrowed. ¡°How do you know?¡±
Nigel met his gaze evenly. ¡°Call it instinct.¡±
William looked skeptical but nodded anyway.
"Then we should get moving."
Without another word, they set off, following the direction Amelie had pointed them toward.
After several minutes of walking, they emerged into another open plaza¡ªsimilar to the one Nigel had seen earlier, with the same twisted metallic structures shaped like animals. Their warped limbs stretched in unnatural angles, their hollow eyes fixed on something unseen.
But this time, the air felt different.
Nigel stepped forward¡ª
And William vanished.
His body tensed instantly. His instincts screamed at him.
"William?"
A whisper brushed against his ear.
"Don¡¯t move. The entire section is one giant trap."
Nigel went still, muscles coiling like a spring.
"What¡?" he murmured under his breath.
William¡¯s voice remained low but clear. "I can also transmit my voice through any surface. Doesn¡¯t matter where someone is, as long as I know their position."
Nigel¡¯s eyes narrowed. So he had another skill after all.
"But this isn¡¯t the time for explanations," William added quickly. "There are four people hiding behind the dumpsters at the far end of the plaza. Two in each."
Nigel¡¯s jaw tightened. "Where are you?"
"Standing a few meters from them. And¡ I can feel it. An insane amount of bloodlust."
His grip on the Reaper tightened.
Killers.
Not just participants looking to survive¡ªhunters, waiting for easy prey.
"Yeah," William whispered. "I¡¯d bet anything they¡¯re waiting for nightfall to start slaughtering as many people as possible."
Nigel exhaled sharply. "What kind of trap is this?"
"I think it¡¯s a vacuum trap¡ªa field that activates when you step inside and suffocates you to death."
Nigel clicked his tongue. That could be a problem.
A moment passed as he studied the plaza, considering his options.
¡°I¡¯ve got a plan,¡± Nigel said. ¡°But I¡¯ll need your help.¡±
William narrowed his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±
¡°The dumpsters are just on the edge of the trap zone. I¡¯ll circle around and get into position. Once I¡¯m set, you¡¯ll draw their attention¡ªmake yourself look like easy prey. While they¡¯re distracted, I¡¯ll shove the dumpsters fully into the trap and lock the lids. Let their own ambush finish them off.¡±
Silence hung for a beat.
¡°That¡¯s... brutal,¡± William muttered.
¡°It¡¯s efficient.¡±
Another pause. Then, a long, resigned exhale.
"Alright. I¡¯ll distract them."
Nigel crouched low a few meters behind the dumpsters, muscles coiled, body ready to strike.
His pulse was steady. His breathing controlled.
One chance. That was all he¡¯d get.
William cleared his throat before stepping forward, deliberately making himself visible.
"Uh, hello?" His voice carried the perfect balance of hesitation and desperation. "Is anyone there? I need help!"
Silence.
Then¡ªmovement.
The lids of both dumpsters creaked open slightly, just enough for the figures inside to peer out.
Nigel didn¡¯t need to see their faces to know their intent.
Predators.
Their voices came soft, coaxing, dripping with false concern.
"Hey, kid. You okay?"
"You lost? You alone?"
Nigel heard the edge beneath their words¡ªthe hunger.
William hesitated, just long enough to make it believable.
"I¡ I think I¡¯m being followed," he stammered. "I don¡¯t know where to go."
One of them smiled¡ªNigel could hear it in their voice.
"C¡¯mon over here, buddy. We¡¯ll keep you safe."
William took a hesitant half-step forward.
Nigel moved.
In an instant, he slammed both lids shut.
The moment they tried to shove them back open, he heaved forward, driving the dumpsters into the vacuum trap.
A transparent energy field expanded outward, sealing them inside.
Screams erupted.
They thrashed, pounded, kicked¡ªbut Nigel was already on top of them, pressing the lids down with everything he had.
Then¡ªthe trap fully activated.
The air vanished.
Inside the dumpsters, the trapped men screamed in panic, their voices turning into choked, desperate gasps as their oxygen drained away.
The weight of the lids pressed into his hands.
Not yet.
He didn¡¯t flinch as the banging stopped. He told himself they were enemies. He had no choice. Still¡ he hated the silence.
He had to make sure the ones inside the dumpsters died.
After what felt like an eternity, William found the vacuum device and deactivated the trap, while Nigel opened the lids.
And inside, he found just what he expected.
Chapter 8 - The First Stage (4)
A second later, William reappeared beside him, pale and shaken.
"Holy shit."
William swallowed hard, nodding slowly.
"They¡¯re dead."
Nigel¡¯s voice came out flat. He stepped forward, gripping the edges of the dumpsters and lifting the lids.
Inside, the bodies were already disintegrated, leaving behind two Diamantines and some small boxes.
He grabbed them quickly, prying open the containers.
Nothing useful, just a few adrenaline elixirs.
He moved to the second dumpster.
Inside lay two more Diamantines¡ and a single, larger box.
Nigel reached in, pulled it free, and flipped open the lid.
Random supplies¡ªscattered tools, spare rations. But nestled between them was something else.
A photograph.
Two men, one older, one younger. Smiling.
A father and son.
Nigel stared at it.
The only reason there was one box instead of two¡ was because they had been sharing an inventory.
His fingers tightened around the paper.
He had just killed a family.
A slow breath left his lips. His mind barely registered the noise of the city around him, the distant hum of machinery, the faint echoes of movement in the alleys beyond.
Then¡ªwithout hesitation¡ªhe tore the photo apart.
Guilt wouldn¡¯t slow him down.
It was them or him.
Without another word, he crushed both dumpsters with a single, powerful kick, the metal caving in with a hollow crunch. Then, turning back to William, he said:
"We still need forty-five more."
William hesitated, still unsettled. "Anything useful in the boxes?"
"No. Let¡¯s keep moving."
Nigel didn¡¯t mention what he had just seen. No point in burdening him.
William hesitated, then fell into step beside him.
"What time is it?" Nigel asked, his voice low, controlled.
"Wait a second¡" William fished a small device from his inventory, tapping its screen. "It¡¯s seven in the evening."
Nigel glanced up.
The sky had darkened noticeably, a deepening twilight stretching over the city like a silent warning.
Amelie¡¯s words echoed in his mind¡ªby midnight, things would get violent.
So far, the Tournament had felt almost¡ structured. A controlled bloodbath. But it wasn¡¯t called the Chaos Tournament for nothing.
He had no idea what lay ahead, but one thing was certain¡ªthe city was immense.
A thousand people had been teleported here, and yet, in seven hours, he had encountered only five. That meant most had landed in dense clusters, forced into immediate bloodshed.
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Then, suddenly¡ª
A booming voice rippled through the city, cutting through the silence like a blade.
¡°Seven hours have passed since the Tournament began! It is time to commence our first event! In a few seconds, a message will appear before you with all the details. Good luck!¡±
The voice faded.
Silence returned.
William exhaled sharply. "Event¡ what exactly will it be?"
Then¡ªhis eyes widened.
"Oh¡ shit."
[ FIRST EVENT ]
[ THE HUNT ]
[ A bounty for the head of those most worthy. ]
[ 5 Diamantines for eliminating your target. ]
[ 10 if you manage to take out your predators. ]
[ You have 1 hour to complete the objective. ]
Nigel¡¯s frown deepened as he scanned the message. ¡°Target? Predator? What¡¯s he getting at?¡±
A second notification appeared before his eyes.
[ WILLIAM STONESWOOD ]
[ PREDATORS: CLAIRE MILES, DOVAK ANIR, CHRIS MOORE, D¡¯SIR VAHR ]
[ TARGETS: SHAUN RODRIGUEZ, M¡¯BATU, AND NIGEL LOWELL ]
Nigel¡¯s gaze flicked toward William. ¡°No way you¡¯re actually trying to hunt me, right?¡±
William paled. ¡°No, no, of course not!¡± he stammered.
Another notification followed.
[ NIGEL LOWELL ]
[ PREDATORS: NICO MORALES, WILLIAM STONESWOOD, NICK GRIMES ]
[ TARGETS: CLAIRE MILES, MARIA STAWSON, MATT GREEVES ]
The moment the message disappeared, an instinctive alarm shot through Nigel¡¯s body.
William felt it too.
Without hesitation, they moved, shifting back-to-back, scanning their surroundings as the weight of the situation settled.
They weren¡¯t alone anymore.
Their predators had already begun closing in.
Less than thirty seconds.
Nigel¡¯s jaw tightened. "Looks like it¡¯s going to be a rough one."
William swallowed hard. "Get ready!"
Nigel barely had time to react before one of the incoming participants rushed straight at him.
He could feel William trembling behind him, his back pressed against Nigel¡¯s¡ªa sharp contrast to the deadly certainty in the steps of their enemies.
He understood his fear.
But just as Nigel prepared to counter¡ª
The attacker suddenly changed course.
Instead of striking, the man leapt past them, tackling another participant to the ground and slashing his throat open in one swift motion.
A clean kill.
Nigel and William stood frozen as the body twitched once before going still.
The killer exhaled, flicking his blade with a practiced motion, scattering droplets of blood onto the pavement. Then, without hesitation, he turned to face them.
"He was my predator," the man said casually. "Bastard killed my teammate and chased me all over the city. He had it coming."
Nigel¡¯s gaze locked onto the stranger.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and built like a warrior. A man in his early thirties, his stance relaxed yet effortlessly commanding. His bright red hair was wild and unkempt, and a jagged white scar ran from his left eye down to his chin, carving a sharp contrast against his dark skin.
More than anything, though, it was his aura that stood out.
Then¡ªthe man¡¯s eyes shifted toward William.
"You," he said, pointing. "You''re William Stoneswood, right?"
William tensed, his breath catching in his throat.
"Name¡¯s Dovak Anir," the man continued. "I¡¯m your predator."
The moment the words left his lips, Nigel stepped in front of William, fingers tightening around the Reaper¡¯s shaft.
His muscles coiled, his entire body primed to strike.
Dovak immediately raised his hands in surrender.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there, man!" He sheathed his knife in one smooth motion. "Not everyone here is a bloodthirsty lunatic."
He gestured toward the corpse behind him. "I just took out the guy who was hunting me. You saw that, right? I¡¯m not out to kill for no reason."
Nigel didn¡¯t lower his guard. "Then what do you want?"
Dovak grinned. "To team up."
William blinked. "Team up?"
"Yeah." Dovak crossed his arms. "I had three Diamantines before, but now that I killed that guy, I¡¯ve got thirteen."
Nigel didn¡¯t answer immediately.
His eyes narrowed, studying Dovak.
The man was smooth, too easygoing¡ªbut was that just his personality, or was he hiding something?
Then, a soft whisper brushed against his ear.
"Nigel¡ he¡¯s telling the truth," William muttered. "My ability lets me sense when someone¡¯s lying. And he told us exactly how many Diamantines he has. If he had bad intentions, I don¡¯t think he would have done that."
Nigel remained silent for a few more seconds.
Then, finally¡ªhe relaxed.
"Fine."
Dovak¡¯s face split into a broad grin. "Good choice! Finding teammates in this mess isn¡¯t easy."
Nigel wasn¡¯t convinced.
"Before we go any further," Nigel said, his tone firm, "why did you think we¡¯d make good allies?"
Dovak chuckled, unfazed. "Easy. You two were standing back-to-back like partners, and when I showed up, you immediately moved to protect him. That gives strong good pal energy, dude!"
Nigel exhaled through his nose. "Right¡"
He still didn¡¯t fully trust either of them, but numbers meant survival.
And survival was all that mattered.
[ TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES UNTIL EVENT''S END ]
"So, how many do we have in total, partner?" Dovak asked, nudging Nigel with his elbow.
Nigel remained vague. "We have Diamantines, but we¡¯re still short."
Dovak smirked. "Ahhh, you don¡¯t trust me yet. Makes sense!"
He let out a hearty laugh, then clapped Nigel on the back¡ªreally hard.
"Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t slit your throat while you sleep!"
"Wow, that really puts me at ease," Nigel deadpanned, stepping away from him.
William, who had been watching the exchange quietly, kept his thoughts to himself.
In the short time they had known each other, Nigel had already defended him more than anyone else ever had.
For now, he would trust his judgment.
Chapter 9 - The First Stage (5)
The trio moved through the city for several minutes before arriving at a cluster of industrial storage containers, stacked haphazardly like forgotten relics.
The sun had nearly set, casting long shadows between the rusted metal walls. Night was closing in fast.
Nigel knew they needed to stop¡ªeven if just for a little while.
"This is as good a place as any to rest for a few hours," he decided. "William, I need you to scout the area periodically with your ability. Let us know if anyone approaches. The rest of the time, get some sleep."
William nodded immediately. "Got it."
Dovak grinned. "Oh? So you¡¯ve got the makings of a leader, huh?"
Nigel exhaled. "I think it¡¯s a little early to say that."
Dovak laughed, stretching his arms behind his head. "Then, oh great leader, assign me a task, too!"
Nigel smirked slightly. "Yeah. Shut up for a while."
Dovak raised a finger as if to argue¡ªthen, just like that, he went silent.
The three of them sat against the containers, passing around rations and water.
Dovak was the first to drift off, his snores light but obnoxious, a small pool of drool collecting at the corner of his mouth.
Every twenty minutes, as instructed, William scouted the area using his skill to blend with the environment.
The hours dragged on, but Nigel never fully relaxed.
Even when he closed his eyes, it was only to blink. His ears stayed sharp, tracking every distant sound.
Dovak, meanwhile, slept like a damn rock.
The rotations continued until the clock ticked past eleven.
Then¡ª
Dovak shot to his feet.
His entire demeanor shifted in an instant.
The easygoing smirk vanished, replaced by something sharp, intense¡ªlike he had become a different person entirely.
"You feel that?" His voice was unusually serious.
Nigel¡¯s eyes darkened. "Yeah."
A while ago, the city was quite alive¡ªdistant echoes of battle, the occasional gunfire, the faint stir of movement.
Now¡ªnothing.
A silence so unnatural, it felt like the world was holding its breath.
They waited.
Seconds ticked by. Then a full minute.
Nothing.
"Maybe it was nothing, haha," William said, though his voice lacked confidence.
Dovak¡¯s head snapped toward him.
"Grab onto something."
William blinked. "What?"
"I said hold on, damn it!" Dovak barked.
Nigel had already sensed it. He gripped the metal latch of a storage container as tightly as possible.
William, still confused, hurriedly followed suit.
Then¡ªthe earth shook.
A deafening roar ripped through the air, a sound so powerful it felt like the city itself was screaming.
The towering skyscrapers that once reflected the moonlight began to twist and shift. Some sank into the ground, swallowed whole, while others slid unnaturally across the horizon, as if dragged by an unseen force.
The city was shrinking.
"Get to the streets, now!" Dovak bellowed, his voice barely cutting through the chaos.
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But Nigel and William heard him.
They released their grips and ran.
The storage containers behind them vanished in an instant, the ground swallowing them whole like a collapsing stage.
The moment their feet hit the main road, the world lurched.
The ground beneath them shifted violently, as if the entire city was being rearranged in real time.
A wave of nausea slammed into Nigel. His stomach twisted painfully, his balance faltering as he dropped to one knee, clutching his chest to steady his breath.
"Hold it together, buddy!" Dovak grunted, grabbing his arm and yanking him upright.
William rushed to his other side, helping him stay on his feet.
The shifting continued for minutes, an endless churn of movement¡ª
Then, suddenly, it stopped.
Silence fell.
But the city was still moving.
Nigel could feel it, a deep, crawling sensation beneath his skin, as if the streets themselves were breathing.
Then, a message flashed before their eyes.
[ SECOND EVENT ]
[ ILLUSION CIRCUS ]
[ In the dead of night, the city shrinks, but its streets descend into madness. ]
[ And in the midst of this chaos, the Illusion Circus begins its first and only act. ]
[ Those who survive will earn a new chance at life, ]
[ but those who fail will fall into an endless trance. ]
Dovak scowled. "That does not sound good."
His eyes skimmed the text, and his expression twisted in disgust.
"A damn poem? I hate poems." He exhaled sharply. "We need to move. Now. Nowhere in this city is safe."
"Agreed," Nigel muttered. "We stay together. Maximum alert."
A sudden shiver ran down William¡¯s spine.
"Do you hear that?"
Nigel frowned. "Hear what?"
William¡¯s voice was barely above a whisper. "It sounds like¡ carnival music."
Dovak¡¯s brow furrowed. "I hear it too. But faintly."
William turned his head, his gaze locking onto something in the distance.
"It¡¯s coming from there."
He pointed at a towering skyscraper.
Before any of them could react¡ªthe building vanished.
In its place, a dirt road stretched into the horizon.
The ground rumbled again, shifting the entire landscape around them. Buildings warped and faded, disappearing only to reappear elsewhere in twisted new formations¡ª
But the road remained.
A single, unbroken path.
William¡¯s hand trembled.
"They¡¯re here."
Nigel and Dovak turned.
Down the newly formed street, a procession of ten people marched forward, moving with eerie, unnatural synchronization.
They wore brightly colored, extravagant clothing, their robes adorned with elaborate patterns that shimmered in the dim light. But their movements were wrong. Their limbs swayed in perfect unison, bending at impossible angles, their steps too light¡ªas if they weren¡¯t even touching the ground.
And at the front of the procession, leading them like a grand performer on stage, was a man.
Tall¡ªalmost unnaturally so.
Thin as a skeleton.
The man wore a crisp black tuxedo, perfectly tailored to his impossibly thin frame. Atop his head sat a grotesquely long top hat¡ªeasily half a meter in height, stretching toward the sky like an absurd monument.
A wide, unnerving grin carved across his face.
Then¡ªhis eyes found them.
The entire group stopped.
The grin twisted, distorting into something even worse.
And then¡ªhe danced.
His movements were unnatural, his body bending and contorting in ways that should not have been possible.
And in perfect sync, his followers moved with him.
Like puppets on invisible strings, their limbs snapped at grotesque angles, their bodies lurching and twisting as if their bones had been rewired. The air filled with the eerie sound of joints cracking, of flesh bending beyond its limits.
Then¡ªthe man¡¯s head snapped upward.
His smile grew wider.
Far too wide.
And in a single, blurred motion¡ªhe vanished.
Before Nigel or Dovak could react, he reappeared directly in front of William.
A massive, bony hand shot out¡ª
And closed around William¡¯s throat.
With an effortless motion, the man slammed him into the nearest building.
Concrete exploded on impact.
William¡¯s body went limp.
Blood dripped from his forehead, streaking down his pale skin in slow, uneven trails.
He didn¡¯t move.
The man tilted his head, admiring his work.
Then, with an elegant flourish¡ªhe resumed his twisted dance.
Nigel and Dovak launched forward, weapons drawn¡ª
But in the blink of an eye¡ª
The world changed.
They were no longer in the city.
A vast, endless green field stretched in every direction, the horizon swallowing the city entirely.
Dovak¡¯s jaw tightened. "So that¡¯s what ¡®Illusion Circus¡¯ meant."
"Back-to-back. Now."
Nigel¡¯s voice was firm, commanding.
He had experience with illusions.
The man who had attacked William hadn¡¯t just been strong¡ªhe had used an ability. A dangerous one.
Dovak didn¡¯t question him. He immediately pressed his back to Nigel¡¯s, both tense, waiting for an attack.
Then¡ªvoices.
A woman¡¯s voice rang out, smooth and elegant.
"Oh, what a delightful pair we have here."
A man¡¯s voice followed, mocking and cruel.
"A fine specimen indeed. And here I thought those filthy Debianites were extinct."
Dovak stiffened.
His fists clenched, his breathing sharp¡ª
"You son of a¡ª"
"Ignore them!" Nigel barked, shoving him slightly.
Dovak inhaled sharply, his entire body trembling with suppressed rage.
"I get it," he muttered through gritted teeth. "How do we get out of this?"
"We¡¯re still in the same place."
Nigel¡¯s voice was calm but firm.
"If we focus, we can sense where that bastard who attacked William is¡ªor even William himself."
Dovak started to speak. "I think we should¡ª"
He never finished.
A fist slammed into his face, sending him staggering back.
Standing before him was a Reikyjiak.
A humanoid insectoid, its chitinous body gleaming like polished obsidian, towering over them like some grotesque nightmare. Its mandibles clicked, its two scythe-like arms raised, each limb razor-sharp and glistening.
Dovak was too stunned to react.
Nigel moved. Instantly.
He shoved Dovak aside, stepping forward to take his place.
The Reikyjiak lunged.
Nigel drew the poisoned daggers he had acquired earlier and slashed rapidly¡ªbut the blades barely left a mark, their edges scraping uselessly against the creature¡¯s hardened exoskeleton.
The Reikyjiak didn¡¯t even flinch.
Then¡ªit screeched.
A piercing, high-pitched sound that ripped through the air, drilling into Nigel and Dovak¡¯s skulls like jagged glass.
Nigel staggered, ears ringing, the world tilting violently beneath him.
Then¡ªit twisted.
The Reikyjiak¡¯s form split.
Suddenly, there were hundreds of identical figures rushing toward him at once, their scythe-like limbs flashing in the fractured light of a shifting, kaleidoscopic sky.
Chapter 10 - The First Stage (6)
They were no longer in the field.
Now, they stood inside a massive, dimly lit factory.
Rusting metal beams stretched overhead, casting jagged shadows against the walls. The air was thick with the scent of oil and decay.
Then¡ªa voice echoed through the darkness.
A voice that made Nigel¡¯s stomach churn.
"That was the Debianite¡¯s illusion."
It was her. The woman from earlier, her tone laced with amusement.
"Now, let¡¯s see what nightmare lurks in this one¡¯s mind."
A figure materialized before Nigel.
Three men without faces, and at their feet¡ªa motionless body. A boy.
Nigel¡¯s breath hitched. He knew that body.
Unmistakable.
The boy lifeless form burned itself into his vision, just as it had all those years ago.
The woman laughed again, her voice like nails dragging across his skull.
"Oh, what a fascinating scene!" she cooed. "Little friend¡¯s dead, and all he could do was watch!"
Nigel clenched his jaw.
"None of this is real. None of this is real."
He repeated the words, forcing himself to focus.
If he lost himself to the illusion¡ªthis barely begun journey would end right here.
He turned toward Dovak, who was still dazed from the earlier blow.
"Dovak," Nigel muttered, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright.
"That punch wasn¡¯t real," he said, his voice firm. "Focus your mind. Not everything is real here."
Dovak blinked, his brow furrowing as he rubbed his jaw.
A second passed.
Then¡ªhis expression shifted.
"Holy shit." He rotated his jaw experimentally, then smirked. "You''re right. The pain¡¯s gone! That''s impressive."
"Good," Nigel said. "Now focus. Try to locate that bastard from before while I cover you."
Dovak froze.
"Wait, hold on¡ª" He frowned. "Didn¡¯t you just say none of this can hurt us?"
Nigel¡¯s expression darkened.
"No. I said that not everything¡¯s real here. They can still hurt us."
Dovak¡¯s grin returned.
"Ahh, got it. Well then¡ª"
Then, without warning¡ª
He suddenly crouched into the most ridiculous stance Nigel had ever seen.
It looked like he was sitting on an invisible toilet, straining with all his might.
Nigel sighed, stepping in front of him and readying the Reaper.
The air around them rippled.
Then¡ªat least ten Reikyjiaks appeared, charging at full speed.
Nigel didn¡¯t flinch.
The moment they reached him, their bodies dissolved into smoke.
A rich, amused voice rang through the air.
"Splendid!"
"Very few manage to see through an illusion so quickly."
"Indeed."
The woman¡¯s voice returned, tinged with amusement.
"This one has potential."
A figure emerged from the shifting shadows.
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Nigel¡¯s eyes narrowed.
The left side of the figure¡¯s body was distinctly feminine¡ªslender features, delicate curves.
The right side was undeniably male¡ªbroad-shouldered, sharp-jawed.
Two people, fused into one.
They both smiled.
"You have the honor of meeting me!" the male half declared. "My name is Ty!"
"And mine, Rel!" the female half added cheerfully.
Then, in perfect sync, they spread their arms wide.
"And together, we are¡ª"
"Not interested."
Nigel cut them off without hesitation.
Ty-Rel pouted.
"How rude."
"I must admit," Rel continued, unfazed, "I have no skill in combat."
"But that¡¯s what my dear Goh is for!"
With a snap of their fingers, a new figure stepped forward.
Another Reikyjiak. But this one was different.
Larger. Far more menacing.
Its humanoid arms were lined with multiple blades, and unlike the previous illusions, its hands were unmistakably human. It was real.
"My dear¡ don¡¯t hurt him too much," Rel cooed. "We¡¯ll be needing him."
The Reikyjiak didn¡¯t hesitate. It lunged, fast.
Nigel barely dodged in time, twisting his body just as Goh¡¯s claws sliced through the air where his throat had been.
Goh skidded to a stop, then turned sharply, rushing forward again¡ªfaster than before.
This time, Nigel couldn¡¯t evade completely.
A powerful fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs.
He staggered back, momentarily dazed, pain flaring across his torso.
Above him, Goh shrieked again.
But this time, Nigel¡¯s ears remained unaffected.
He recovered instantly, and without hesitation, he swung the Reaper.
Goh raised its arms defensively, ready to block¡ª
But at the last second, Nigel shifted his weapon.
The Reaper morphed.
Its blade extended.
Goh¡¯s left arm was severed instantly.
The creature hissed, jumping back as thick green blood splattered across the floor.
Nigel smirked. "Not so tough now, huh?"
Goh¡¯s mandibles clicked rapidly.
Then¡ªits severed arm twitched.
From the open wound, something sprouted.
A long, jagged blade, extending from where its elbow once was.
It lunged again.
Faster. Wilder.
It slashed in a frenzy, aiming for Nigel¡¯s vital points¡ª
But Nigel was faster.
He dodged every strike¡ªuntil Goh faked a feint.
Nigel instinctively dodged right, and Goh¡¯s fist swung for his face.
He barely tilted his head, avoiding a direct hit to the nose.
"Not this time."
His Reaper came down in a single, brutal arc.
Goh tried to block, but Nigel tensed every muscle in his body, adding a burst of raw strength.
The blade sliced straight through, and the Reikyjiak¡¯s body split in half.
Nigel exhaled, watching the corpse hit the ground.
Then, a piercing scream tore through the air.
"No! What have you done?!"
Rel stared in horror at the remains of her creature, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"You¡ you killed him!"
Her eyes filled with tears, shimmering with raw disbelief.
Meanwhile, Ty¡¯s half of their face twisted into pure, seething hatred.
Their voices merged into one, dripping with venom.
"I will remember you. And one day, I will return what you¡¯ve done to me."
With those final words, their bodies dissolved into swirling black smoke, vanishing into the illusion.
But the world remained warped.
Nigel¡¯s grip on Reaper tightened.
He turned back toward Dovak.
His companion was still locked in deep concentration, his face contorted with effort.
Minutes ticked by.
Then, suddenly¡ª
Dovak¡¯s eyes shot open.
"I found him!"
Without hesitation, he sprang to his feet and ran.
Nigel followed instantly, weaving through the ever-shifting illusion as the world around them morphed chaotically.
One moment, they were running across a vast plain. The next, they were inside the city.
Next¡ªdarkness. An empty, endless void.
Fifteen minutes passed in this twisting nightmare.
Then, at last, they arrived, and what they saw sent a deep chill down Nigel¡¯s spine.
The man who had attacked William stood before them.
But he was different now.
Taller. Horribly thin.
His body was pitch black, a shifting void in human form¡ªexcept for his head.
His cracked, leathery lips stretched into a grotesque smile, revealing rows of sharp, rotting teeth.
He did not move.
He only stared, his hollow, empty eyes flicking between Nigel and Dovak.
Their bodies tensed.
Weapons drawn.
Then¡ªhe spoke.
"Well done."
His voice was deep, hoarse¡ªinhuman.
"You¡¯ve found me."
He spread his arms, his monstrous frame casting a twisted silhouette against the shifting world.
"Allow me to introduce myself."
His grin widened.
"I am Charles. Owner of the Illusion Circus."
He let the name linger, as if expecting applause.
"Few ever reach me. My companions are scattered across the city, entertaining the other participants. But you¡"
His head tilted at an unnatural angle.
"You are not the first to stand before me today."
Then¡ª
His arm rose.
His long, skeletal fingers pointed directly at them.
"Let me give you a demonstration."
A crushing force slammed into Nigel¡¯s chest.
His knees buckled instantly.
The sheer weight of it was indescribable.
Like being pressed beneath a collapsing building.
Dovak dropped beside him, muscles straining under the invisible weight.
Neither of them could breathe.
Their bones creaked under the pressure, and Nigel realized¡ª
If this continued, their bodies would explode from the force alone.
Dovak¡¯s fingers twitched.
Then¡ªhis eyes flashed, and his wristband displayed a message
[ Null Pulse ]
A shockwave of energy radiated outward, shattering the overwhelming force like glass.
The instant it lifted¡ªthey surged forward.
Seizing the opening.
Nigel swung his Reaper.
Dovak brought down his black greatsword.
Their weapons rushed toward Charles¡ª
But he did not move.
Their attacks never landed.
An unseen force intercepted mid-air, redirecting their strikes downward.
The ground cracked beneath their redirected power¡ª
And then¡ª
Charles grabbed them both by the throat.
He lifted them effortlessly, their bodies dangling like broken dolls, and slammed them into the ground.
The earth trembled from the impact.
Before they could react, his fist came crashing down toward their skulls.
Nigel rolled¡ªjust in time.
The impact shattered the ground where his head had been.
Dovak evaded in the opposite direction and countered with a swift, upward slash.
His blade collided with Charles¡¯ chest¡ª
It barely left a scratch.
Nigel followed up with a sharp, precise strike to the ribs¡ª
Charles didn¡¯t react.
He only smiled.
With a single, inhuman shove, he sent them both flying.
Dovak managed to keep hold of his weapon. Nigel did not.
His Reaper skidded across the ground, spinning end over end before landing several meters away.
But it didn¡¯t matter. He wasn¡¯t helpless.
His hands flew to his belt, drawing the twin daggers he had taken from his first kill in the Tournament.
Then¡ªhe lunged.
He knew. He could see it.
The difference in power between them was overwhelming.
But that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t going to try.
Chapter 11 - The First Stage (7)
This wasn¡¯t just about survival anymore.
It wasn¡¯t just his life on the line.
William, Dovak.
If he held back now, he would die.
No¡ªworse. They would all die.
A notification flashed across his bracelet.
[ SERENUS ACTIVATED ]
[ TWENTY-PERCENT CAPACITY ]
A shift, like a door unlocking inside him.
His vision darkened at the edges, his pulse steadied. He felt calm.
The moment Serenus activated, the world slowed.
Every movement. Every breath. Every detail. Everything became sharper.
His muscles loosened, yet remained coiled like steel.
His breathing fell into a steady rhythm.
And for the first time in this fight¡ªhis power was evenly distributed.
Serenus.
A skill that allowed its user to clear their mind completely, reducing all thoughts to the essentials, specially created for survival.
It required extreme discipline and focus.
Nigel could only manage twenty percent of its full potential, but even that was enough.
His combat ability surged.
A temporary edge, only for a few minutes.
He attacked.
Dovak joined him at the last moment, and they charged in unison, their movements precise, refined.
When Charles lashed out, they were ready.
This time¡ªthey dodged.
His monstrous limbs sliced through empty air, missing them by mere inches.
Dovak lunged, his greatsword whipping upward in a brutal arc, aiming for Charles'' abdomen.
The blade connected, but barely penetrated.
Before Dovak could react, Charles simply drove his elbow downward, shattering the sword in two.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he shoved Dovak aside like a discarded rag doll.
Dovak crashed onto the ground, coughing from the impact, his wide eyes locked onto the broken remains of his weapon with disbelief.
Nigel kept moving.
Charles¡¯ hand shot toward him in a vicious, clawing strike¡ª
Nigel twisted away, evading with inches to spare.
This isn¡¯t working.
Even with Serenus, he was barely keeping up.
No openings. No chance to counter.
And then, an idea.
A high-risk move.
A technique he had barely trained in, reckless and dangerous. One Nazli taught him.
But in this moment¡ªhe had no choice.
His grip tightened on the daggers.
Daggerspin.
A technique that required absolute precision.
By rotating the blades at high speed, he could generate enough force to cut through even hardened defenses.
But the risk was immense.
A single mistake, one slip of focus¡ªAnd he¡¯d sever his own fingers, or even his entire hand.
While continuing to evade Charles¡¯ attacks, Nigel began.
The daggers started slow, moving in small, circular patterns in his hands.
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Each spin grew faster, faster¡ª
He moved his arms in a fluid figure-eight motion, keeping the blades in constant rotation.
The air hummed with sharp whirls.
Within seconds, the daggers were moving at blinding speed.
His focus was absolute.
But even in this state of clarity, he could feel it¡ª
Small cuts forming on his fingers and palms.
Blood trickled from his hands, a sign of his lack of control over the technique.
No time to stop.
Charles attacked again.
Nigel exhaled¡ªthen struck.
He brought his hands together, the spinning daggers aligning in a single deadly motion.
The technique wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªbut it worked.
Charles¡¯ hand flew off.
The severed limb hit the ground with a wet thud, fingers still twitching.
For the first time, Charles reacted. He just stared at the stump where his hand used to be.
He smiled. A deep, horrifying grin.
"Well, well." He whispered, almost reverently.
"Very well done."
Charles raised his remaining hand.
A burst of blinding light exploded from his palm.
Nigel and Dovak staggered back, their vision obliterated by the sudden flash.
When their sight returned¡ª
They were no longer on the battlefield.
They stood in a wide plaza, surrounded by dozens of people. At first, Nigel thought they were other participants. Then, he noticed the inconsistencies.
Something was wrong.
Floating above them, Charles spread his arms theatrically.
"Welcome, one and all!"
His voice boomed through the air.
"Tonight, you will put on a most spectacular performance!" He grinned, gesturing to the crowd.
"Some of you are real."
His voice dropped to a whisper, sinister and sharp.
"And some of you¡ are mere illusions."
Nigel¡¯s stomach dropped.
"But beware!" Charles continued, laughing.
"All of them will try to kill you."
His form began to fade.
"Now, entertain us with your show!"
And with that¡ªhe vanished.
"Shit."
Nigel cursed under his breath.
Dovak immediately drew another greatsword from his inventory¡ªas if the broken one had never existed.
"How the hell do we tell who¡¯s real?" Dovak asked, scanning the shifting horde.
Nigel¡¯s eyes narrowed, muscles coiling.
"It doesn¡¯t matter."
He raised the Reaper.
"They¡¯re all trying to kill us."
Dovak grinned.
"Good point."
"So what¡¯s the plan?"
"Simple."
Nigel exhaled.
"We just kill everything that approaches us."
Dovak laughed.
"Now that¡¯s something I can get behind!"
The battle had barely begun, yet it felt like an eternity.
Dovak swung his greatsword, cutting down everything in his path, but most were illusions¡ªvanishing into smoke the moment his blade passed through them.
Nigel was in the same situation.
But instead of using his weapons, he relied on his fists.
The Reaper had become heavier with every passing minute, the strain of wielding it unfamiliar, a reminder of how little he had trained with it.
The daggers were no better. His hands were still raw from Daggerspin, every movement sending sharp pain lancing through his fingers.
So he relied on what remained.
His own strength. His own body.
Blow after blow, he fought. But the relentless wave of enemies never seemed to end.
Exhaustion crept into his muscles, slowing his reactions, wearing him down.
Until suddenly¡ªit stopped.
The illusions no longer attacked.
Instead, they had turned their attention elsewhere, attacking someone in another part of the plaza.
Nigel, still breathing heavily, took a step back. "Only two of them were real."
Dovak, leaning against his embedded sword, frowned. "How do you know?"
Nigel lifted his hand, letting a small, gleaming gem roll between his fingers.
"Illusions don¡¯t drop Diamantines."
Dovak blinked.
"Oh." He exhaled, feeling slightly stupid for not realizing it sooner.
Before he could dwell on it, another enemy rushed at him.
Without hesitation, Dovak gripped his greatsword, spun on his heel, and delivered a single, clean cut.
The attacker was bisected instantly.
The body hit the ground, and another Diamantine rolled toward his feet.
Dovak let out a low chuckle. "That one was real."
Nigel didn¡¯t reply.
They took the brief moment of peace to recover their strength, but they kept their stances defensive, expecting the next attack at any moment.
Then¡ª
"Hey!"
A familiar voice shouted from the distance.
Both men turned sharply.
William came running toward them, waving one arm.
He was panting heavily, clearly out of breath from sprinting.
"I¡¯ve been looking for you guys for a while!" he called out, relief evident in his voice. "Things got bad real fast. I heard you through my ability and figured you were in trouble. I thought maybe I could help¡ even if I¡¯m not much of a fighter, I can still do something."
Dovak smirked. "Well, that¡¯s good to hear. How¡¯s the hit to the head?"
William¡¯s face scrunched in confusion. "What hit?"
Nigel and Dovak exchanged glances.
They both thought the same thing.
He didn¡¯t remember.
The blow Charles had dealt him must have been so severe that his brain simply erased the memory, which meant he had no idea what had even happened to him.
Nigel sighed. "Doesn¡¯t matter. Right now, we need to focus on surviving."
Without hesitation, the three of them fell into formation. Back to back.
A familiar strategy¡ªbut an effective one.
Then, as if sensing their readiness, the illusions surged forward once again.
Dozens of them roamed the plaza, searching for prey. And soon, they found them.
At least thirty figures emerged, surrounding them from all directions.
Nigel exhaled slowly.
With a single thought, he pulled the Reaper from his inventory. He had recovered a bit of strength, so it was time to use it again.
The weapon materialized in his hands, its familiar weight settling against his grip.
As his fingers curled around the shaft, the blade morphed into its scythe form, its dark, curved edge gleaming under the dim plaza lights.
Dovak lifted his greatsword, ready.
And then¡ª
William.
He was oddly calm. No panic. No hesitation.
In his hand, he held a single black dagger.
And for some reason¡ª
Nigel had a feeling he was hiding something.
"They''re coming!" William shouted.
A new wave of attacks surged toward them, forcing the trio to fight for their lives once again.
It took only a single hit to make the illusions disappear, but the problem was landing those hits¡ªthey moved with unnatural agility, dodging and countering with precise, well-timed strikes.
No matter how many they cut down, more appeared.
Their bodies ached, their movements slowed, and exhaustion weighed on them like lead chains. This wasn¡¯t a battle of power.
It was a battle of endurance, and they were losing.
Then¡ªthings got worse.
An illusion almost reached William.
Nigel acted on instinct.
He swung Reaper, the curved blade slicing through the air before cleaving straight through the figure, sending it flying several meters.
The moment his weapon hit the ground, he felt it.
A sharp, stabbing pain.
His ribs.
His breath hitched as he turned his head slightly, just enough to see¡ª
William.
Charging toward him.
His expression was twisted, a warped, unnatural grin stretched across his face.
And in his hand¡ª
A dagger, buried halfway into Nigel¡¯s abdomen.
Chapter 12 - The First Stage (8)
Nigel¡¯s body tensed in shock.
His mind froze for a fraction of a second.
Then¡ªsteel flashed.
A single vertical slash.
Dovak¡¯s greatsword split William in two.
Smoke.
The body vanished instantly. Not real, just another illusion.
Nigel exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself.
He took a step forward¡ª
And his legs gave out beneath him.
The ground rushed up to meet him, but he forced his body to catch itself before collapsing completely.
Pain.
A deep, searing agony burned through his side.
Nigel¡¯s hand trembled as he lifted his shirt to inspect the wound.
His stomach twisted.
The area around the puncture site was turning black.
Dark veins spread outward, pulsing beneath his skin¡ªand they were growing.
Fast.
The flesh around the wound boiled, as if it were melting from the inside out.
Nigel had never seen a venom like this.
And he had no idea what kind it was.
His breathing steadied.
Panicking wouldn¡¯t help. It wasn¡¯t like there was no solution.
Nigel forced his fingers to stop shaking, reaching into his inventory with practiced speed.
A small vial appeared in his hand.
Liquid Life, the label read.
He didn¡¯t hesitate.
He popped the cork with his thumb and downed the contents in one gulp, giving him instant relief.
His wounds sealed almost instantly¡ªeven the puncture left by the dagger.
Nigel clenched his fists, as the healing process caused some serious pain.
The poison vanished like it wasn¡¯t even there in the first place.
Liquid Life was a miraculous concoction, designed to accelerate the body¡¯s natural regeneration at a chemical level. Though it couldn¡¯t heal diseases.
The rich used it to delay the symptoms of terminal illnesses, prolonging their lives by days, weeks, or even months¡ªif they could afford it.
Nigel understood why.
A surge of power came with Liquid Life and lasted only seconds.
But Nigel used it well.
In a single, blinding motion, he lunged toward Dovak, who had no other choice but to fend off several illusions while Nigel was recovering, and with one brutal arc of Reaper, five enemies fell at once.
Then, just as quickly as it had come¡ª
The high faded.
His body returned to normal.
The dull ache of fatigue settled in again.
"You good, man?" Dovak grunted, knocking several illusions back with a powerful swing.
"For now¡" Nigel muttered, slashing the throat of another incoming attacker.
"What if we get the hell out of here and find William?," Dovak suggested as he started moving toward the edge of the plaza.
They moved quickly, cutting down a few remaining illusions as they went, until finally¡ªthe buildings swallowed them again.
They were back in the streets of the Citadel.
Dovak suddenly halted.
Nigel stopped just behind him.
Then¡ª
Dovak dropped to one knee and placed his palm flat on the ground.
He exhaled slowly, then pressed his weight into the earth.
A message appeared above his wristband.
[K?MPANA]
The moment the skill activated, a deep, resonant chime rang out.
Like a massive bell had been struck, sending a vibration rippling through the very fabric of the Citadel.
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The ground hummed beneath them, the sound carrying outward.
It wasn¡¯t harsh or violent.
It was subtle. Gentle. Almost comforting.
But its reach was far.
Nigel narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"
Dovak sighed. "K?mpana¡" He muttered the name like it annoyed him.
"One of my skills. It creates a sound wave that sends out a controlled vibration across a limited area."
Nigel tilted his head. "And what¡¯s the point of it?"
"Everything produces vibrations."
Dovak dusted off his hands as he spoke.
"With K?mpana, I¡¯ve learned to read them. When its wave collides with something I¡¯m looking for, I can detect its presence."
Nigel¡¯s eyebrows lifted. "That¡¯s actually pretty us¡ª"
"Yeah, yeah." Dovak waved him off. "But there¡¯s a catch."
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"I need to have felt the vibration before. Otherwise, I have no idea what the hell I¡¯m detecting. Maybe rough shapes, or people if they¡¯re near enough."
Nigel nodded slowly. "So, I suppose you were trying to find William."
Dovak¡¯s expression hardened.
"Indeed, my man, indeed. We¡¯ve only spent a few hours together, so I barely got a read on his frequency, but¡ I think he¡¯s about two hundred meters from here."
Nigel gritted his teeth.
"And?"
Dovak¡¯s gaze darkened.
"He¡¯s not alone."
They ran.
They weaved through the labyrinth of streets, pushing past debris, navigating around collapsed buildings¡ª
And then, finally¡ª
They found him.
William lay motionless, face down on the ground.
Three figures stood around him.
Their bodies rigid. Unmoving.
Their eyes locked onto something in the distance.
Illusions.
Nigel gritted his teeth.
"Probably left behind by Charles."
Dovak¡¯s fingers tightened around his greatsword. "Bastard¡¯s using them as watchmen."
Nigel nodded.
If they got too close, the illusions would activate.
Or worse¡ªthey¡¯d attack William instead.
They had to take them out without giving them a chance to react.
A simple plan formed in Nigel¡¯s mind. One that just required speed and raw brutality.
"Dovak."
His voice was low, barely above a whisper.
Dovak tilted his head slightly.
"I¡¯ll handle the two on the left with Reaper. The moment I move, you charge the one on the right and cut it down before it can react."
Dovak cracked his neck. "Got it."
Nigel met his gaze.
Then¡ªhe moved. "Now!"
They launched forward.
Nigel¡¯s scythe cut through the first two illusions in a single, fluid motion.
The figures flew apart, their bodies dissolving into black smoke before they even hit the ground.
At the same time, Dovak thundered forward.
His greatsword swung in a clean arc.
The final illusion never saw it coming.
The blade sliced through its neck, severing its head instantly.
The body barely had time to shudder before it disappeared.
The moment the last enemy was gone, they rushed to William¡¯s side.
Nigel knelt beside him, carefully turning him over.
His face was covered in blood.
A deep gash split the side of his head, just above his left temple.
Nigel¡¯s stomach tightened.
The bleeding had stopped, but¡
"Damn it¡" He muttered, reaching into his inventory.
A small vial appeared in his palm.
Liquid Life. The last one he had.
He uncorked it, tilting William¡¯s head back slightly before pouring the contents into his mouth.
For a moment¡ªnothing.
Then, William¡¯s wounds began to mend.
The gash sealed itself, leaving only a thin scar cutting through his hairline.
His muscles relaxed, the tension fading from his body.
Nigel let out a small breath of relief.
"Alright."
He hoisted William onto his back, securing his grip.
Dovak adjusted his sword.
"Let¡¯s move."
Without another word, they left the scene behind.
They walked for about ten minutes before finding a narrow alley they could use for cover. There, they carefully set William down against the wall.
"I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll wake up anytime soon," Nigel muttered. "That hit to the head was bad. He should be healed, but let¡¯s hope there¡¯s no permanent damage."
"And what do we do? Carry him with us? Leave him here?" Dovak asked, his voice laced with concern.
In his current state, William was dead weight.
Leaving him behind would be the logical choice¡ªit would make things easier, give them a better chance of surviving the tournament.
Nigel thought of leaving him there, but something flashed in his mind.
A smile from an old friend, and a single thought: What would he do now?
¡±We keep moving together, ¡± he said, with an unreadable expression.
Dovak sighed in relief.
¡°Good. Wasn¡¯t a fan of ditching him either.¡±
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a small cylindrical device. Without hesitation, he stabbed it into the ground and pressed a button on top. Thin rods extended outward, forming a large octagonal frame.
Nigel frowned. "What is that?"
"An amplifier." Dovak tapped it twice. "Think of it like K?mpana, but instead of activating my skill, it just expands my range. Not as precise, but good enough. Should last three hours¡ªgive or take."
Nigel watched as he finished setting up the device and then sat down beside it, keeping one hand pressed to the ground.
"So you can sense vibrations even without your skill?" Nigel asked, pulling a bottle of water from his inventory.
Dovak nodded. "Yeah, but it¡¯s like feeling a tremor without knowing where it¡¯s coming from. K?mpana lets me pinpoint exact targets. This thing just¡" He shrugged. "Makes the picture less blurry."
Nigel took a sip of water, letting the explanation settle. It made sense.
The plaza remained eerily quiet, shadows shifting with the dim light above.
For nearly two hours, they stayed on alert¡ªbarely speaking, barely moving. Their ears strained for the faintest sound, their bodies tensed in silent anticipation.
Every so often, Nigel glanced at William. His breathing was steady, his injuries healed, but his body remained motionless, as if his mind had yet to return.
The weight on Nigel¡¯s chest was lighter now.
The decision to stay had settled something inside him¡ªnot erased the guilt, but lessened its grip.
Then¡ª
A groan.
"I¡ what¡ what happened?"
William.
His voice was hoarse, his head slowly turning. His eyes, still unfocused, darted between them.
Dovak grinned. "Took a hell of a beating, that¡¯s what."
Nigel leaned forward. "Charles slammed you into a building. Knocked you out cold." He paused, then added, "We found you and used Liquid Life to fix you up. Otherwise¡" He gestured vaguely. "You¡¯d be as good as dead."
William blinked sluggishly. His thoughts were still scrambled, but the mention of Liquid Life snapped him back to reality.
"Wait¡ªLiquid Life? That stuff¡¯s expensive as hell!"
"I know," Nigel said, tearing open a ration pack. "Good thing there was a two-for-one special."
William stared at him.
"...You''re joking."
Nigel didn¡¯t even blink. "Am I?"
William opened his mouth to argue¡ªthen closed it.
Dovak snorted. "Damn. First time I¡¯ve heard you crack a joke, and it¡¯s about overpriced miracle juice."
Nigel ignored him and reached into his inventory, pulling out a strip of dried meat.
"Here. Eat."
William hesitated at first, but once he took a bite, he devoured it like a starving man.
Nigel handed him another. Then another.
He kept eating, shoveling down every piece offered like his stomach was bottomless.
Finally, he let out a satisfied sigh. "I think I¡¯ve had enough."
He swallowed, then hesitated.
"Uh¡ thanks," he said quietly. "For saving me. And¡ everything else."
"No problem, man," Dovak said, clapping him hard on the back.
William nearly choked.
Dovak winced. "Oh, uh¡ my bad."
William coughed a few times before looking up at Nigel, his expression more serious.
"Why?" he asked. "Why did you save me?"
He clenched his fists.
"Why waste Liquid Life¡ on me?"
Dovak opened his mouth to speak, but Nigel answered first.
"If we want even the slightest chance of making it through the Chaos Tournament, we need to stick together. Preferably alive," Nigel said. "Besides, no healing item can fix brain damage¡ªexcept for the one I gave you."
He made it sound like a purely strategic move. Like saving William¡¯s life was about survival, not sentiment.
But as he watched William stare at the ground, gripping the fabric of his sleeve, Nigel found himself gripping the Reaper a little tighter.
Deep down, he knew the truth.
He just wasn¡¯t ready to say it.
Chapter 13 - The First Stage (9)
No matter how much he tried to ignore it, Nigel had never been the kind of person to leave someone behind.
"I see¡ thanks," William muttered, shifting uncomfortably.
Dovak suddenly pressed his palm to the ground. "Someone¡¯s coming." His tone sharpened. "It¡¯s a woman."
Nigel stilled. "How far?"
"Close."
William¡¯s throat tightened. "What do we do?"
Nigel¡¯s response was calm. Too calm.
"Not many options. We wait. If she comes at us with bad intentions, it¡¯s three against one. Shouldn¡¯t take long to get rid of her."
The cold, matter-of-fact way he said it sent a chill down William¡¯s spine.
He suddenly remembered the first words he had ever heard Nigel say.
"No need to start killing each other just yet."
Had he misunderstood?
Maybe Nigel hadn¡¯t been advocating for peace.
Maybe he had been lulling his opponent into a false sense of security before striking.
Was that what he was doing now?
The thought terrified him.
But¡ he had saved his life.
That had to count for something.
William swallowed hard. "And¡ what if she doesn¡¯t want to fight?"
"Then we all go on our way and prevent unnecessary killing, " Nigel replied.
William exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders.
Dovak, however, wasn¡¯t relaxed. He pressed his ear to the ground, his expression turning serious. "Wait a second¡ I can feel metal vibrations. Coming from her."
Nigel¡¯s fingers tightened around Reaper¡¯s handle. "A weapon?"
Dovak shook his head. "No¡ it¡¯s different. The vibrations aren¡¯t separate from her body. It¡¯s like they¡¯re fused together."
That was enough of an answer.
"Guess we¡¯ll find out soon enough," Nigel murmured, weapon still in hand.
Minutes passed.
The night air was still, the alley around them silent.
Too silent.
Dovak¡¯s posture suddenly tensed.
"She¡¯s close." His voice dropped to a whisper.
They pressed against the alley wall, barely breathing.
She was just a few meters away.
Yet they still hadn¡¯t heard a single footstep.
Then¡ªher presence changed.
She stopped moving.
A voice, smooth and steady, cut through the silence.
"If you¡¯re planning an ambush," she called out, "I should let you know¡ªI already heard all three of you."
Nigel exhaled quietly. She had picked up on them before Dovak sensed her vibrations.
Interesting.
Dovak was the first to step forward, then Nigel, then William.
"That wasn¡¯t our intention, miss," Dovak said, his usual confidence returning.
The woman''s silhouette stood just beyond the alley¡¯s dim light. She was poised, unreadable, watching them with a quiet patience that put Nigel on edge.
"Then why were you waiting for me?"
Nigel met her gaze. "We were only going to attack if you showed hostility first."
A pause.
Then¡ª"I see."
William, who had stayed silent until now, finally took a better look at her.
She wasn¡¯t much older than them.
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A sleeveless military-style shirt, matching cargo pants. Everything about her was practical, built for movement, efficiency.
But what caught his attention wasn¡¯t her outfit, it was the way she stood. Like someone who had never once doubted their ability to survive.
But her most striking feature wasn¡¯t her presence.
It was the exoskeleton fused to her body.
Unlike the bulky, external exosuits used in older generations, hers barely protruded from the skin, seamlessly integrated into her arms¡ªand likely her legs as well.
Her hands weren¡¯t flesh and bone.
They were metal.
Her face was mostly concealed by a sleek black helmet, revealing only pale skin, soft pink lips, and a few strands of red hair that had slipped free.
She studied them, unbothered.
"So?" she asked.
Nigel and Dovak exchanged glances. Neither spoke.
William, however, stepped forward.
"Excuse me," he said, voice more nervous than he probably intended. "Would you like to join our team? I think the more of us there are, the bett¡ª"
"No."
She cut him off without hesitation.
"I barely know you. For all I know, you could be planning to kill me."
William froze.
Nigel rubbed his chin. "Fair."
Dovak grinned slightly. "If we wanted to attack you, we¡¯d have done it already." He spread his arms. "See? No sudden moves."
She wasn¡¯t amused.
"Listen." She had already started turning away. "I don¡¯t intend to fight you. I also don¡¯t intend to join you. I have more important things to deal with. If you survive and we cross paths again, I might reconsider."
She stepped past them but paused briefly, glancing over her shoulder.
Her eyes locked onto Dovak.
"And constantly tracking vibrations is a double-edged sword." Her tone was calm, almost indifferent. "You can find anyone¡ but anyone with half a brain can find you too."
Dovak¡¯s smirk faded slightly.
Before he could respond, she was gone¡ªvanishing between the buildings as if she had never been there.
Silence settled between them.
Not the tense, dangerous kind.
A relieved kind.
Because even though none of them had wanted to fight her, somewhere deep inside, they all knew the truth.
Even if they had attacked her together, she might have won.
Dovak was the first to break the quiet.
He ripped a strip of dried meat from his ration pack, chewing lazily. "So. Did you see that exoskeleton?"
William nodded, still processing. "It was fused to her body. That¡¯s not normal, right?"
"Not at all," Nigel said. "Most exoskeletons are worn like armor, not implanted." He exhaled. "If I had to guess¡ she probably hits harder than the three of us combined."
Dovak chuckled. "Yeah, I got that impression."
"But¡" Nigel continued, gaze thoughtful. "She¡¯s strong, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯s too far ahead of us."
William barely registered what his teammates were saying.
His mind was stuck on that woman.
The only part of her he had seen clearly was the lower half of her face. A delicate nose, sharp lips, and strands of red hair swaying lightly as she moved.
He found himself wishing he had seen the rest of her face.
"Hey."
Nigel snapped his fingers in front of him, pulling him back to reality.
"S-Sorry, I got distracted," William mumbled.
"We need to move," Nigel said. "We still don¡¯t know when this event will end, and there are only eight hours left before this Stage ends. We need to collect more Diamantines."
"On the hunt, then!" Dovak grinned. "I bet there are teams out there slaughtering everyone in sight. We should go for them first."
"Look," Nigel said, his tone firm. "Maybe killing isn¡¯t pleasant, but if we barely trust each other, I don¡¯t think we should go soft on anyone we run into. That girl just now was the exception because she did not try to attack us. If someone does not show hostility, we let them go. But if they do¡¡± He tapped Reaper¡¯s handle. "We take them out."
"Understood," William said, his voice steady.
With that, the three of them moved through the tight streets of the city.
Occasionally, a wide avenue appeared just a block or two away, but they avoided it.
Too open. Too exposed.
Still, no matter how much they tried to stick to the shadows, the shifting city always seemed to pull them back toward the main roads.
Nothing stayed the same for long.
Nearly an hour passed with no encounters.
Nigel was beginning to suspect they were walking in circles.
Then¡ª
They found a building.
It was shorter than the surrounding structures, with massive glass doors and windows covered in faded posters advertising products and sales.
"A supermarket?" Nigel muttered, stepping closer. His eyes scanned the signs in confusion. "What the hell is this?"
He pointed at a picture of a strange metal can with symbols written across a green label.
The letters looked ancient.
Almost like the writing of civilizations lost to time.
"Check this out," William said, pointing at another poster a few meters away.
It showed a woman.
She was young, dressed in a flowing purple gown, her skin a deep bronze, her eyes an unnatural shade of fluorescent green. She wore a radiant smile, holding a glass bottle filled with an unknown liquid, its label covered in the same indecipherable script.
"A¡ Druid?" Dovak said, furrowing his brow. He recognized her at a glance. "Why the hell would there be an advertisement featuring a Druid¡ written in their language¡ in a Tournament Stage?"
"Maybe it¡¯s just decoration," Nigel suggested. "But hold on¡ªwhat exactly is a Druid?"
Dovak crossed his arms. "They¡¯re an ancient race¡ supposedly as old as the Genesis Gods, even previous to whatever was before the Rings. But no one has seen a real one in ages. People think they went extinct."
"Like the Debianites," he added, his voice quieter.
Nigel raised an eyebrow.
That was interesting.
But it wasn¡¯t worth dwelling on. Not with everything at stake.
William, however, felt something spark inside him.
Curiosity.
"What happened to your people?" he asked.
His usual shyness was gone.
When it came to knowledge¡ªWilliam never hesitated.
"It''s a long story. Maybe I''ll tell you when things calm down."
William frowned but didn¡¯t push further. "Alright¡ then what if¡ª"
A thunderous explosion cut him off.
A section of a nearby building erupted, sending concrete and debris flying. The shockwave sent a tremor through the ground, and the three barely dodged the falling wreckage. Their eyes met. No words needed. They moved.
Nigel, Dovak, and William pressed themselves against the supermarket¡¯s outer wall, taking cover. From there, they had a clear view of the destruction.
Dovak narrowed his eyes. "I see something."
Through the smoke and fire, a massive black tank rolled forward. Its turret swiveled slowly, scanning for targets.
"I think they saw us but missed the shot," Nigel muttered. "We need to get inside. We can¡¯t take on a tank."
Dovak nodded. "Agreed."
They slipped through one of the entrances, moving as quietly as possible.
"Gotcha!"
A voice blared through an external speaker, metallic and distorted.
Then¡ªanother deafening blast.
The shell struck just behind them, close enough to throw William off balance. He staggered, disoriented.
Nigel grabbed his arm and hauled him inside.
Dovak whistled. "Hell of a shot, pal. You almost hit something." He laughed, but his grip tightened on his weapon.
"Get ready!" Nigel barked, shaking William to snap him back to focus.
With a grinding roar, the tank plowed straight into the supermarket entrance.
The impact sent walls crumbling, steel beams twisting, and shattered glass raining down. By the time the dust settled, the behemoth of a machine was wedged between the wreckage, blocking their only way out.
Another fight was about to start.
Chapter 14 - The First Stage (10)
Dovak grinned. "Ha! Idiots trapped themselves."
Nigel¡¯s expression darkened. "No. They trapped us."
Dovak blinked. "But¡ª"
"There¡¯s no other exit. I checked," Nigel said, turning to William¡ªonly to realize he was gone.
"Six of them," came William¡¯s voice, distant but steady.
Nigel spun toward the sound.
"They¡¯re climbing out. Trying to open the hatch."
Nigel and Dovak exchanged a glance. Neither moved, both gripping their weapons tightly.
¡°We can¡¯t rush in,¡± Nigel murmured. ¡°Too many unknowns.¡±
Dovak nodded. ¡°Yeah¡ for all we know, that thing¡¯s rigged to explode the moment we step too close.¡±
¡°Or worse,¡± Nigel said, eyes narrowing. ¡°They might have a skill waiting to trigger on proximity.¡±
They both turned their gaze to the tank, listening to the distant clanging of metal as the people inside struggled with the hatch.
Dovak exhaled through his nose. ¡°So¡ we wait?¡±
Nigel readjusted his grip on his daggers. ¡°We wait.¡±
They took a defensive stance, stepping back to a more controlled position near the remains of the supermarket shelves. If their enemies wanted a fight, they¡¯d have to step into the open to get it.
The sound of scraping metal filled the air.
Nigel and Dovak watched as, after several forceful attempts, the tank¡¯s hatch finally burst open. A large slab of debris was shoved aside, and one by one, their enemies emerged.
Three men. Three women.
Dressed in tattered punk-style clothing, their hair dyed in wild shades of neon, each with a distinct, unruly style. Their expressions were twisted in cruel amusement, eyes filled with bloodlust.
¡°Damn it¡ we can¡¯t even catch a fucking break!¡± Dovak pouted. "Well¡ this should be fun."
Before Nigel could respond, one of them¡ªa man with striking blue hair¡ªvanished.
Nigel barely had time to react before pain exploded in his ribs.
The force of the punch sent him skidding backward, nearly knocking the air from his lungs.
Dovak caught movement out of the corner of his eye and raised his greatsword, but he was too slow.
A woman with bright pink hair and a leather jacket struck first.
Ten thin needles buried themselves into his right arm.
His muscles locked. His fingers went numb.
For a second, panic flared through him¡ªhis entire right arm was dead weight. But Dovak wasn¡¯t about to go down that easily.
The woman lunged at him again, aiming to finish the job.
Big mistake.
Dovak planted his foot and drove it straight into her chest.
The impact sent her flying backward, her ribs cracking under the force. She collapsed, gasping for breath, on the brink of losing consciousness.
Nigel, meanwhile, had his own problems.
The blue-haired man¡¯s attacks were relentless. His movements were sharp, efficient¡ªfaster than the boy Nigel had fought earlier in the tournament.
And worse, he was only wielding a simple kitchen knife.
Nigel knew immediately: if that thing so much as nicked him, it wouldn¡¯t be a minor wound.
Nigel¡¯s mind pieced it together instantly.
Expansive Damage, a common use skill, but difficult to master.
It amplified the force of any weapon, no matter how weak, turning even a simple kitchen knife into a lethal tool. That explained why the blue-haired man wasn¡¯t carrying a proper weapon¡ªhe didn¡¯t need one.
Nigel had also noticed the faint yellow glow surrounding the blade, an unmistakable sign of the skill in action.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Because the fight was already over.
The moment his opponent lunged, aiming for his throat, Nigel moved. He ducked low, weaving past the strike with ease. In the same instant, his daggers flashed. One slice to the radial artery. Another just above the jugular. The paralysis was immediate.
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The blue-haired man¡¯s body locked up, his breath hitching. His wide, panicked eyes met Nigel¡¯s. He understood what had happened.
And in that moment, he stopped struggling.
He simply closed his eyes, waiting for the end.
Nigel granted him a swift, painless death.
As the body dissolved into nothing, a single Diamantine and an inventory box were left behind.
He took the gem without hesitation¡ªthere was no time to check the box.
Looking up, he spotted Dovak rubbing his right arm, testing his movement. But something was missing.
William.
Nigel¡¯s senses went on high alert. Before he could scan the area, a furious voice ripped through the air.
¡°Bastard!¡±
A towering woman stormed toward him, her face twisted in rage.
She was built like a war machine¡ªbroad shoulders, thick arms, fists that could crush bone. And from the way she glared at him, it was obvious.
The man he had just killed meant something to her.
Now she wanted revenge.
Nigel readied his stance. They locked eyes, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
She snapped first.
The woman charged, her fist swinging straight for his ribs.
Nigel saw it coming. He moved to dodge¡ª
And then¡ª
He was standing in the exact same spot.
The fist connected.
Pain exploded in his chest. The force sent him stumbling back, stealing the air from his lungs. He barely had time to react before it happened again.
He was back where he started, the attack about to land.
Another strike¡ªthis time to the face.
His head snapped back.
The world blurred. A deep, ringing sound filled his ears, drowning everything out. His vision tunneled, darkness creeping in at the edges.
He tried to move¡ª
But he was already back in place.
The loop was repeating.
He wasn¡¯t just being beaten.
He was trapped.
One more hit wouldn¡¯t kill him, but it would knock him out cold. And in the Chaos Tournament, unconsciousness meant death.
Through the haze, he saw her fist coming again¡ªslower this time, as if the world itself had tilted.
Then¡ª
Something slammed into his side.
He was shoved out of the way just as the punch whistled past his face.
Nigel collapsed against the ground, dazed.
A voice cut through the fog.
¡°Nigel! Snap out of it!¡±
William.
Nigel blinked rapidly, trying to focus. His teammate stood in front of him, sword drawn, body trembling.
William knew the truth.
The woman had used a time-loop based skill.
It trapped its victim in a repeating sequence, forcing them to relive the same actions until the effect wore off. Nigel had been stuck in it, doomed to take the hit over and over.
But there had to be limits.
No skill was without drawbacks.
And judging by how the woman was breathing heavily, eyes burning with fury, she wouldn¡¯t be able to use it again anytime soon.
Still, none of that mattered if Nigel couldn¡¯t get back up.
William tightened his grip on his sword, standing firm between his teammate and the furious woman.
His hands trembled. Sweat dripped down his face.
But he refused to move.
He wouldn¡¯t run. Not this time.
The woman lunged at William without hesitation.
Her first punch missed his face by an inch but smashed into his shoulder instead. Something cracked. Probably a bone. William clenched his jaw, swallowing a scream as another fist slammed into his cheek, sending him stumbling back. His vision blurred, but he held his ground. He tightened his grip on his sword and, through split lips, let out a weak smile.
He was still standing.
That only seemed to enrage her further. Her expression twisted into something monstrous, raw with fury. She had enough. No more playing around. With a deep breath, she activated another skill.
Her wristband displayed a message.
[ TITANIC STRENGTH ]
A surge of raw power coursed through her body, pooling into her right arm. The strength of a hundred men condensed into a single punch. The veins in her biceps bulged, her muscles trembling from the sheer force she was containing. One strike. That was all she needed. She¡¯d crush William, send his broken body flying into Nigel, and kill them both in a single blow.
She charged.
William, still swaying on his feet, didn¡¯t move. His smile lingered, though his glassy eyes betrayed just how little he had left in him.
He simply waited.
The moment her fist closed in, he calmly reached out with one hand¡ªhis fingers barely brushing against her knuckles.
"Nullification," he whispered.
The power drained from her body instantly.
The overwhelming strength¡ªthe rush, the euphoria¡ªvanished as if it had never existed. Her knees nearly buckled from the sudden loss, and she staggered back in shock.
A skill canceler? No. That was impossible.
William exhaled, raising his sword. His movements were sluggish, weak, but he still stepped forward, driving the blade toward her stomach.
For a second, she thought it was over.
Then she realized¡ªhis arms were trembling. The sword barely pierced her skin.
William was spent.
Her lips curled into a victorious sneer. Raising both fists, she locked her fingers together, lifting them high above her head. One final, crushing strike would put an end to him.
She inhaled deeply, steadied herself¡ª
And swung down.
The hit never landed.
A single hand caught her by the wrists, stopping her attack mid-air.
Nigel.
He stood behind William, gripping her arms as if they weighed nothing. His amber eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto hers.
"That¡¯s enough."
Before she could react, he slashed upward with his free hand, a dagger carving a clean, vicious line across her torso.
The blade wasn''t large, but the wound was deep.
Paralysis crept through her limbs¡ªthe venom taking effect.
Her strength collapsed all at once. Her body flickered, then dissolved into nothing.
A Diamantine clattered onto the floor.
Nigel picked it up, his fingers curling around the cold gem. His breath was heavy. His body swayed slightly, but he didn¡¯t fall.
William, still catching his own breath, stared in disbelief.
"How¡ How did you¡? You were getting wrecked just a minute ago," he panted.
Nigel wiped a smear of blood from his mouth. His voice was flat, eerily calm.
"I learn fast."
Then, after a pause, he turned his gaze toward William, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
"You¡¯re weak," he muttered. "You shouldn¡¯t have tried to protect both of us." He hesitated, exhaling through his nose. "You have to train, learn how to¡ª"
His sentence never finished.
His body finally gave out.
He collapsed, unconscious, before he even hit the ground.
William dragged himself over to Nigel, pressing two fingers against his neck. A slow, steady pulse. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He was alive.
Relief washed over him, but it didn¡¯t last. He had nothing to heal him with¡ªno potions, no supplies, and no access to Nigel¡¯s inventory. Just his sword.
And he wouldn¡¯t have time to think of another plan.
Footsteps echoed against the shattered supermarket floor.
A man and a woman emerged from the wreckage, stepping into the dim light.
The man was gaunt, almost sickly, with hollow cheeks and wild violet hair that stuck out in uneven tufts. The woman beside him was thin, unnaturally so, her face layered with heavy makeup that barely masked the cold sharpness of her expression.
William forced a smile, gripping his sword tighter.
They didn¡¯t look like much, but neither had the last ones.
Beneath their strange appearances, he could feel it¡ªraw, overwhelming strength.
He swallowed hard.
Another fight.
He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d survive this one.
Chapter 15 - The First Stage (11)
Dovak didn¡¯t hesitate. He stepped over the unconscious woman and drove his greatsword through her back. It wasn¡¯t the most honorable way to end a fight, but he didn¡¯t have the luxury of dragging things out. The blade tore through her with brutal efficiency. Her body barely had time to jolt before it began dissolving into nothing.
A sharp cry rang out behind him.
Dovak barely turned before a blur of movement closed in.
In the blink of an eye, a man stood right in front of him.
There was no time to think.
Their weapons clashed, sparks flying as metal met metal. Dovak barely managed to catch the incoming strike in time, his muscles straining against the force behind it.
The bastard was fast, stronger than he looked. A storm of blows followed, both of them locked in a vicious exchange. It was evenly matched¡ªfor now.
But Dovak couldn¡¯t focus. His mind kept drifting.
Where were Nigel and William?
Every time he tried to glance their way, his opponent cut off his vision, forcing him back into the fight. He grit his teeth, bracing himself for another strike. Then, finally¡ªhe caught a glimpse of them.
William was still standing. Barely.
His short sword trembled in his grip, his legs shaking¡ªnot from fear, but exhaustion.
The two remaining punks approached him slowly, their faces twisted in rage.
Dovak exhaled sharply. It made sense.
They had just watched their friends die.
William muttered something under his breath. He planted his feet.
And then, they lunged at him.
Dovak¡¯s heart pounded. His fingers tightened around his sword.
He should be over there.
He should be helping¡ª
Then he saw it.
The faint flicker of light from Nigel¡¯s wrist.
A message.
[BLOODLUST ACTIVATED]
William barely had time to react.
One moment, he was watching his opponents charge at him¡ªthe next, Nigel was on them like a beast unchained.
His movements were inhuman, fueled by something far beyond raw strength or skill. His muscles tensed like coiled steel, his entire body radiating heat. A crimson aura pulsed around him, flickering like an open flame. His eyes¡ªif they could even be called that¡ªwere glazed over, unfocused, yet filled with something primal.
Nigel wasn¡¯t thinking.
He was hunting.
Before William could even process what was happening, Nigel seized both attackers by the throat and threw them like ragdolls. Their bodies crashed against the debris-littered floor, skidding several feet before coming to a stop.
They groaned, struggling to rise.
Nigel didn¡¯t give them the chance.
The man with violet hair barely made it to his knees before Nigel was on him, gripping the back of his head and slamming it into the ground with enough force to crack the concrete. Blood splattered across the floor. William winced, expecting the man to go limp¡ªbut he didn¡¯t.
Somehow, despite what should have been a fatal impact, he twitched, barely holding himself upright. His entire body trembled, bones likely shattered, yet there was still fight in his eyes.
The woman lunged from behind, dagger poised for a killing blow.
Nigel turned at the last second, his fist colliding with her jaw. The sheer force of the hit sent her stumbling back, teeth flying from her mouth in a crimson spray.
She clutched her face, eyes wide in horror.
William could only watch.
Nigel was moving differently¡ªfaster, stronger, more relentless than before. It wasn¡¯t just rage. It was something far worse.
Something monstrous.
The punks must have realized it too, because this time, when they rushed him¡ it wasn¡¯t with confidence. It was desperation.
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Nigel didn¡¯t even flinch.
Before either of them could react, he moved¡ªa blur of motion, precise and deadly.
William barely caught the series of movements.
A brutal strike to the chest.
A sharp blow to the neck.
A final, sweeping kick to their legs.
Both attackers collapsed, bodies hitting the floor with dull thuds.
They lay there, gasping for breath, eyes darting between each other in silent understanding.
William saw it too¡ªthe realization that they had lost. That this was the end.
They turned to Nigel, watching as he stepped forward to deliver the killing blow.
Then¡ªit stopped.
The aura around him flickered. His body trembled.
His knees buckled.
And then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he fell.
William¡¯s heart nearly stopped.
Nigel lay motionless, his body drained, steam rising faintly from his skin.
The punks hesitated, exchanging glances. The moment they realized he was unconscious, their expressions changed¡ªfrom fear to opportunity.
They pushed themselves upright, shaky but determined. Their gazes shifted toward William.
First, they¡¯d kill Nigel.
Then, they¡¯d deal with him.
They took a step forward¡ª
Dovak struck.
A single, wide sweep of his greatsword carved through both of them in one motion.
They barely had time to process what had happened before their bodies dissolved into nothing, leaving behind two shimmering Diamantines.
Silence fell.
Dovak exhaled, lowering his weapon.
His gaze flicked toward Nigel¡¯s unconscious form, then to William¡ªwho was barely staying on his feet.
¡°¡Well, that was a damn mess. This dude has a lot of hidden tricks, huh.¡±
Dovak nudged Nigel¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hey. You with me?¡±
Nigel¡¯s lips barely moved. His voice came in a whisper. ¡°¡Not yet. Too soon¡ too late¡¡±
Dovak frowned. ¡°The hell are you talking about?¡±
Before he could press further, William¡¯s body slumped to the side. He was out cold.
Dovak exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Well, ain¡¯t that just perfect.¡±
With a grunt, he laid both of them flat on the ground and pulled two small vials from his inventory. Revitalizers. He tilted their heads back, making sure each one drank before tossing the empty bottles aside. The effects would take a few hours, but at least their conditions wouldn¡¯t worsen.
He sat nearby, stretching his sore muscles. Compared to them, he was barely winded. After witnessing Nigel¡¯s outburst, Dovak had been able to focus on his own fight. His opponent never saw it coming. A quick grab from behind. A sharp twist. A clean kill.
It hadn¡¯t taken long.
Now all that was left was to watch over these two fools until they woke up.
A low groan broke the silence.
Nigel stirred, his body aching in ways he hadn¡¯t thought possible. Every inch of him throbbed, muscles burning as if he had been set on fire from the inside out.
¡°Shit,¡± he muttered. His voice was hoarse.
He tried to sit up. His limbs protested, his body sluggish, but he forced himself upright. ¡°How long was I out?¡±
Dovak, who had been leaning against a pile of rubble, glanced at his wristband. ¡°About half an hour.¡±
Nigel exhaled sharply. "Half an hour¡?" His gaze shifted to William, still lying motionless nearby.
Dovak followed his line of sight. ¡°That kid took a beating.¡± He ripped off a piece of dried meat with his teeth, chewing lazily before continuing. ¡°Kept trying to cover you every time you hit the ground. Don¡¯t think he landed many hits, but he held his own.¡±
Nigel¡¯s jaw tightened.
He tried standing, bracing himself with one knee on the ground. The moment he put weight on his legs, they gave out beneath him.
Pain shot through his body as he collapsed.
¡°Damn it!¡± he spat, gripping the dirt beneath his fingers. Every breath sent fresh pain through his ribs. His entire body felt like it had been put through a grinder.
Dovak raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah, well, that¡¯s what happens when you go full berserker mode and don¡¯t remember it.¡±
Nigel shot him a glare. ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡±
A weak voice cut in.
¡°¡Before I blacked out,¡± William murmured. ¡°You activated something. A skill.¡±
His voice faded again, and his head lolled to the side.
Dovak moved to check him, placing two fingers to his pulse before nodding. ¡°He¡¯s fine. Just exhausted.¡±
Nigel¡¯s hand drifted to his wristband, fingers brushing against the device. His mind raced back to the last thing he remembered before losing control.
A message.
A single line of text had flashed across the screen just before his mind blanked out.
[BLOODLUST ACTIVATED]
He flexed his fingers, recalling the searing heat that had coursed through him. The sheer power. The moment he let go, nothing else had mattered except the fight. It was a skill he used once¡ no, to be exact, he used once.
That was dangerous.
"Guess I really didn''t know what I signed up for," he muttered.
Dovak let out a snort. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t tell me¡ªyou never even checked how the damn wristband works?¡±
Nigel remained silent.
Dovak sighed, shaking his head. ¡°Unbelievable. That thing organizes your skills, dumbass. Every time you use one, it logs it. Guess you finally triggered one of your buried instincts or whatever.¡±
Nigel frowned. "But I don¡¯t name my skills."
¡°Then maybe the wristband does it for you,¡± Dovak shrugged. ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s been there all along, and you just never knew."
Bloodlust.
A skill powerful enough to push him beyond his limits¡ªbut at what cost?
Contrary to Serenus, this one was far more¡ primal.
Once the soreness in his legs subsided, Nigel forced himself into a crouch.
Then, a squat.
Then another.
Dovak watched, unimpressed. "Really? Right after almost dying, you''re doing squats?"
Nigel ignored him. His muscles screamed in protest, but he needed to move.
He needed to build up strength, because despite all the fights they¡¯d won, despite making it through the first night¡ªhe had still collapsed.
Something deep inside him whispered that he couldn¡¯t afford to be weak.
That next time, he wouldn¡¯t be saved.
That voice in his head¡ªthe one he had spent years trying to drown out¡ªspoke again.
That wasn¡¯t very smart of you.
Nigel clenched his jaw.
You can¡¯t trust them. Trust only in yourself, and me of course.
The voice was cold, sharp, slicing through his thoughts like a blade.
They¡¯re strangers. Just like before, just like her.
His fists tightened.
¡°Shut up.¡±
The words barely escaped his lips, but he heard them.
Dovak tilted his head. "What?"
Nigel¡¯s expression darkened. "Nothing."
He went back to training, forcing his mind to focus.
Dovak let the silence linger for a moment before speaking.
¡°¡Now that I think about it,¡± he muttered. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen any message saying the event¡¯s over.¡±
Nigel¡¯s movements stopped.
His shoulders tensed.
That was true.
Throughout the night, the tournament announcements had been constant. But now¡ªnothing.
That meant one thing.
¡°The Illusion Circus is still active,¡± Nigel said.
Dovak grabbed his greatsword. ¡°Which means we¡¯re still in danger.¡±
Nigel pulled himself up, stretching out his sore limbs. His blood still burned from the fight, but his mind was sharp again.
They would have to be careful.
They weren¡¯t out of this yet.
Chapter 16 - The First Stage (12)
William jolted upright with a strangled gasp.
¡°No! Stop!¡±
His voice echoed through the empty supermarket, sharp and panicked.
Dovak nearly choked on his dried meat, while Nigel¡¯s hand instinctively went to his weapon.
¡°The hell¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Nigel muttered, scanning their surroundings in case the outburst had drawn attention.
William¡¯s chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat beading on his forehead. His fingers curled into his sleeves as if trying to ground himself. ¡°I¡ I think it was just a nightmare.¡±
Dovak reached into his inventory and tossed him a bottle of water. ¡°You think?¡±
William caught it and downed the entire thing in a single gulp.
Dovak smirked. ¡°Damn. Thirsty?¡±
William wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯ve had nightmares since I was a kid.¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t look convinced, but he let it go.
¡°Then let¡¯s move,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ve been stuck here too long.¡±
William got to his feet, but his legs wobbled beneath him. He caught himself against a nearby shelf, cursing under his breath.
Dovak whistled. ¡°Still shaky? Try some squats. Gets the blood flowing.¡±
William gave him an incredulous look.
¡°Trust me,¡± Dovak grinned. ¡°If it works for him¡ª¡± he jabbed a thumb at Nigel, ¡°¡ªit¡¯ll work for you.¡±
Nigel rolled his eyes but didn¡¯t argue.
With a reluctant sigh, William crouched and pushed himself back up. Then again. And again. By the time he finished, his legs had steadied, and the trembling was gone.
¡°See? Told ya,¡± Dovak said, stretching. ¡°Now let¡¯s get out of here.¡±
The trio approached the supermarket¡¯s ruined entrance, stopping in front of the massive wreckage blocking their path.
The black tank was still wedged between collapsed chunks of concrete, its enormous frame sealing off the exit.
Dovak scowled. ¡°There were windows here, weren¡¯t there?¡± He ran a hand along the solid wall, searching for an opening.
¡°Only on the far side,¡± Nigel replied. ¡°These walls are reinforced, protected by some kind of forcefield. Our best bet is to move enough debris to crawl through.¡±
Dovak groaned. ¡°So more heavy lifting. Fantastic.¡±
With no better option, they got to work.
For smaller chunks, one of them could handle it alone. But every now and then, they came across pieces of reinforced steel or concrete slabs that required all three of them to lift.
¡°Might be a good time for some super strength,¡± Dovak muttered, exhaling sharply as he dropped a particularly heavy piece. ¡°I know I¡¯m quite strong, but this things are just heavy as heck.¡±
¡°Not worth wasting a skill on this,¡± Nigel said. He adjusted his grip and shoved another block aside.
Dovak snorted. ¡°Oh, come on. What about Kalipto? The guy who could lift entire battleships with one hand?¡±
Nigel shot him a flat look. ¡°You¡¯re seriously bringing up a legend right now?¡±
¡°I believe it¡¯s real,¡± Dovak grinned.
¡°Well, good for you,¡± Nigel muttered, wiping dust off his hands.
Before Dovak could continue the argument, William called out.
¡°Got something!¡±
They turned to see him clawing at a gap in the wreckage, his movements frantic.
¡°Help me widen it! We can get through!¡±
With renewed urgency, they tore at the remaining rubble. It took another few minutes, but finally¡ªthe hole was big enough to crawl through.
The moment they stepped outside, the moonlight hit them like a slap to the face.
William squinted, shielding his eyes. The sky was dark blue, streaked with thin wisps of clouds. A crisp night breeze carried the scent of dust and stone through the abandoned streets.
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For a moment, it almost looked normal.
No bodies. No blood. No sounds of battle. Just empty roads and towering buildings stretching toward the sky.
Dovak let out a low whistle. ¡°Eerie as hell.¡±
Nigel stayed silent. He didn¡¯t trust the quiet.
Then¡ª
A deep, guttural rumble shattered the stillness.
The ground trembled. A dull crack echoed through the city.
They turned¡ªjust in time to see two massive skyscrapers ripped from their foundations.
The buildings wrenched free, concrete and steel groaning in protest.
For one surreal moment, they hovered midair.
Then¡ª
They slammed into each other.
A deafening boom split the air. A shockwave burst outward, sending a dense cloud of dust and debris cascading through the streets.
Nigel tensed.
The Illusion Circus wasn¡¯t over yet.
¡°And now what?¡± William groaned, exasperation heavy in his voice.
He didn¡¯t get an answer.
Because two hundred meters ahead, fresh screams tore through the air.
Then¡ªanother impact.
Two more skyscrapers collapsed into each other, their foundations grinding like broken bones. The explosion of dust and debris roared toward them, swallowing the streets in a choking cloud.
The wind pressure alone felt like an invisible force, slamming into Nigel¡¯s body.
He shielded his face with one arm, the other reaching blindly into the swirling chaos.
¡°Take my hand!¡± he shouted.
No response.
His stomach dropped.
Shit.
Then¡ªa hand grabbed his wrist.
Firm. Cold. Metal fingers pressing into his skin.
Not William. Not Dovak.
A woman''s voice. Steady. Sharp.
¡°Claire Miles.¡±
Nigel barely registered the name before she tugged him forward. It was the woman from before. ¡°No time. Move.¡±
The grip was unshakable, her strength obvious even through the storm of dust.
¡°Where are my teammates?¡± Nigel coughed.
¡°No idea,¡± Claire said. ¡°They¡¯re not near us. And whatever¡¯s causing this?¡± She gestured vaguely at the swirling destruction around them. ¡°It¡¯s tearing the city apart. Fast.¡±
Nigel gritted his teeth. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡±
¡°If you want to get out of here in one piece, follow me.¡± Claire¡¯s voice was even, but something in the way her metal fingers twitched made Nigel pause.
¡°What is it?¡± he asked.
Claire hesitated. Then¡ª¡°The buildings ahead? They¡¯re gone.¡±
Something in her tone made the air feel colder.
Nigel frowned. ¡°What do you mean ¡®gone¡¯?¡±
¡°I mean they were just there, and now they¡¯re not.¡±
A deep vibration ran through the ground. Like something massive shifting beneath them.
For the first time, her fingers trembled.
Something was messing with her exoskeleton.
¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Claire said quickly, keeping her voice steady. ¡°We need to move. Now.¡±
Nigel hesitated only for a second.
Then¡ªhe nodded.
¡°Lead the way.¡±
He had no other choice but to follow her and try to find his teammates. She did not show hostility before, so there was no reason not to.
They ran through the shifting maze of dust and debris, Claire guiding him forward with unwavering certainty.
For minutes, they pushed through the blinding chaos, the world around them a formless blur of swirling ash and crackling static in the air.
Then¡ªthey emerged.
And what they saw stole the breath from their lungs.
The entire city had changed.
Buildings no longer stood in place.
They floated.
Dozens¡ªno, hundreds¡ªof skyscrapers hovered above them, spiraling in a slow, impossible dance. Some were tilted at unnatural angles, others rotating lazily, untethered from gravity itself.
The ground beneath them had fractured, torn apart by unseen forces.
Lightning slashed across the sky, jagged veins of blue and violet energy crackling through the storm clouds.
The Illusion Circus was ending.
And it wasn¡¯t going quietly.
¡°So that¡¯s what¡¯s messing with me,¡± Claire muttered, flexing her fingers. ¡°It¡¯s not just a storm. I think it¡¯s¡ª¡±
¡°Move!¡± William¡¯s voice cut through the air.
Before she could finish, he shoved both her and Nigel aside.
A bolt of lightning tore through the sky.
It slammed into the ground, scorching the earth, leaving a smoking crater just inches from where they had been standing.
The impact rumbled through their bones.
Claire exhaled slowly, then glanced at her metallic limbs.
"Maybe I¡¯m acting like a giant lightning rod."
William let out a breath of his own, still shaken. ¡°Yeah, and those things are coming down everywhere.¡± He gestured toward the crackling veins of electricity now dancing through the clouds.
From behind them, a familiar voice called out.
"So, have you decided to team up with us after all?"
Claire turned as Dovak emerged from the haze.
¡°For now,¡± she said simply.
Nigel frowned. ¡°Where the hell were you two?¡±
¡°The dust storm threw us apart,¡± Dovak said with a shrug. ¡°William found you with his ability. I tried using mine, but it was chaos out here.¡±
Nigel gave a small nod, then glanced at William.
¡°Thanks.¡±
William grinned, clearly pleased with himself. ¡°No problem.¡±
Then Claire spoke up, louder this time.
¡°The First Stage ends in a few hours. And from the looks of things, whatever¡¯s coming next isn¡¯t going to be easy. We should officially form a team.¡±
The three men exchanged glances.
They hadn¡¯t expected Claire to come around so quickly. But given the situation, it made sense.
¡°We need to count our Diamantines,¡± she continued. ¡°As a team, we only need fifty. I have fifteen.¡±
Nigel rolled his shoulders. ¡°I took down five people. That¡¯s twenty.¡±
¡°I have twelve,¡± Dovak added. ¡°That brings us to thirty-two.¡±
Everyone turned to William.
He fidgeted under their stares. ¡°¡I, uh. I don¡¯t have any.¡±
A beat of silence.
Claire exhaled. ¡°Then we still need eighteen more.¡±
Before anyone could answer¡ª
A deep, earth-shaking boom split the air.
They all turned just in time to see an explosion rock the heart of the city.
Buildings were dragged toward its center.
The air distorted, twisting as though space itself was collapsing inward.
Then¡ª
A message flickered to life on their wristbands.
[The Illusion Circus bids farewell with one final show.]
[The last challenge begins soon.]
[FIFTEEN MINUTES UNTIL FINAL EVENT.]
Nigel let out a long sigh.
¡°¡Great.¡±
Dovak crossed his arms. ¡°Is it just me, or have these events been kinda¡ tame? I thought the Chaos Tournament was supposed to be brutal.¡±
Nigel¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure.¡±
Dovak scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m serious. Feels like they¡¯re trying to psych us out¡ªmake us paranoid so we¡¯re easy prey when the real thing starts.¡±
Nigel shook his head. "Look around."
Everyone did.
And that¡¯s when they realized¡ªthey were moving.
Not walking.
Not running.
The entire city was shifting beneath them.
Buildings that once stood anchored in place now glided forward as though on invisible tracks.
The streets liquefied, their surfaces no longer solid asphalt but something that flowed like sand.
The air grew colder.
Storm clouds thickened above them, swallowing what little light remained.
The city itself was being pulled toward the final stage.
And there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Dovak let out an exaggerated sigh.
¡°I don¡¯t think these are just mere illusions.¡±
Chapter 17 - The First Stage (13)
"Watch out!" Nigel yelled, yanking William backward.
A towering structure blurred past them, moving at terrifying speed before colliding head-on with another building. The impact sent a cascade of debris crashing down, forcing them to scramble for cover.
They pushed forward, weaving through the chaos, but the city itself seemed determined to slow them down. Buildings were shifting, streets buckled under their feet, and above them, the storm crackled with unnatural energy.
"This tournament finally lives up to its name!" Dovak laughed, dodging a falling slab of concrete.
No one else found it funny. They were too busy trying not to get crushed.
"Focus!" Claire shouted. "We have less than five minutes to reach the center!"
She barely finished before a chunk of stone the size of a football smashed against her helmet. The impact threw her off balance, and she crumpled to the ground with a sharp gasp.
William rushed to her side, pulling her up as she swayed unsteadily.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concern laced in his voice.
Claire hesitated. "Yeah¡ but my helmet''s fried. I can¡¯t see anything."
William stared at the damaged visor. "Then take it off."
"I can¡¯t." Claire¡¯s voice was calm, but her grip on his arm tightened. "Doesn¡¯t matter right now. You¡¯ll have to guide me."
William swallowed hard. "A-alright."
She leaned into him, her metal fingers gripping his shoulder for support. He stiffened.
His brain barely registered the chaos surrounding them¡ªthe crumbling city, the deafening storm¡ªbecause right now, all he could think about was the warmth of her breath near his ear and the weight of her against him.
"Look!" Dovak suddenly pointed.
Not far ahead, a lone warrior stood amidst the wreckage. Clad in black samurai armor, he barely moved, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his katana.
William and Claire weren¡¯t the only ones who noticed.
A group of at least fifteen participants had spotted the swordsman and rushed toward him, weapons raised.
The warrior finally moved.
With a single, fluid motion, he drew his blade. And not a single one of them stood a chance.
"That¡¯s¡" Nigel trailed off, unable to look away.
The swordsman wasn¡¯t just fighting¡ªhe was performing. His movements were effortless, a seamless blend of speed, precision, and grace.
But the strangest part? There was no blood. No limbs severed, no agonized screams¡ªonly bodies dropping lifelessly to the ground as the warrior cut through them with terrifying efficiency.
A peaceful death.
Nigel forced himself to turn away. They didn¡¯t have time to watch. His gaze flicked to William and Claire. Surprisingly, they were moving in perfect sync, William guiding her through the rubble as if they had trained together for years.
Dovak, meanwhile, kept stealing glances at the swordsman, watching in awe even as he sprinted forward.
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"Get down!" Dovak suddenly shouted.
Without hesitation, they all hit the ground. An entire building flew over their heads.
It hurtled through the sky like a projectile before slamming into another structure, both getting sucked into the massive vortex forming above them. The storm raged on, and the city was collapsing.
The final event was about to begin.
"This is getting more insane by the second," William muttered, struggling to keep his footing while making sure he didn¡¯t take Claire down with him.
The storm had worsened.
The winds howled like a living beast, and the rain hit like a shower of needles, each drop stinging as it struck their skin. Thunder cracked overhead, splitting the sky apart, while lightning bolts continued to rip through the city, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.
Then¡ª
A voice boomed through the chaos.
"Participants!"
It was the announcer. Her words cut through the storm, echoing through every corner of the collapsing city.
"The final event of the First Stage of the Chaos Tournament is here! You¡¯ve had it easy so far, but this time, things will be different!"
Nigel and the others kept running, not daring to slow down.
"What must you do? Simple! The city will continue shrinking toward the center for the next thirty minutes! If you do not collect the required Diamantines before the city collapses into a single point¡ªwell, you die! But it won¡¯t be that easy! Not only will you have to avoid getting crushed, but you¡¯ll also have to survive the catastrophe unfolding around you! Good luck!"
A sharp beep followed, and a message flashed on their wristbands:
[THIRTHY MINUTES REMAINING]
[COLLECT THE REMAINING DIAMANTINES BEFORE THE DEADLINE]
They pushed forward, weaving through the falling rubble. If they could reach the center, they might have a chance to gather the last few Diamantines without getting crushed by the storm.
But they weren¡¯t the only ones with that idea. As soon as they reached the heart of the city, they saw them. Dozens of participants, and nearly all of them were locked in battle.
Blades clashed, skills flared, and the scent of blood hung thick in the air.
"We stay together and cover each other¡¯s backs!" Nigel shouted.
"No!" Claire snapped. "We need to split into pairs!"
Nigel turned to her, frowning.
"Are you insane? We¡¯ll get torn apart in seconds!"
"She¡¯s right," Dovak added.
"Shut up, you don¡¯t look like the thinking type," Claire shot back.
Dovak took a step forward, bristling.
"The hell did you just say?"
Nigel quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
"Not worth wasting energy on this," he muttered. "Let¡¯s focus on not dying and getting those Diamantines."
Claire exhaled sharply. "Fine. Then I¡¯ll go on my own."
She turned, taking a few steps away from the group¡ªthen suddenly stopped.
After a moment of hesitation, she turned toward William.
"I still can¡¯t see. Would you be kind enough to help me?"
William stiffened.
His gaze flicked to Nigel, who met his eyes with a hard, unreadable look.
Then¡ªNigel gave a slight nod.
"Let me know if anything happens," he said.
With that, Claire and William moved off, keeping close but not straying too far from the others.
Dovak scowled, watching them go. "That girl is a¡ª"
Fwip.
A flash of movement.
A single arrow sliced through the air, aimed directly at Dovak¡¯s face.
But before it could land, Nigel¡¯s hand shot out, catching it inches away from his skull.
"Move!" Nigel barked, tossing the arrow aside.
Dovak barely had time to react before they were both sprinting, weaving through the rain of incoming projectiles. Arrows whistled past them, embedding into the crumbling pavement.
Then¡ªthud.
One struck Nigel square in the shoulder.
He barely flinched. His tactic shirt absorbed the impact, reducing it to nothing more than a dull blow. Lucky. Any other armor, and the arrow would have punched straight through.
They didn¡¯t slow. Not until they pinpointed the archer¡¯s location.
And there he was, perched atop a small, half-collapsed building.
The moment the archer spotted them closing in, he dropped down, disappearing behind the structure.
"He¡¯s not alone," Dovak muttered. He skidded to a stop, slamming his palm against the ground. Feeling. Searching.
A second later, his eyes snapped up.
"One¡¯s charging straight at us."
Nigel followed his gaze¡ªjust in time to see an old man sprinting toward them at unnatural speed.
His eyes widened. "Shi¡ª"
Too late.
The elderly warrior blurred forward, closing the gap in an instant. Before either of them could react, he swung a massive war maul straight into Dovak¡¯s side.
The impact sent Dovak flying.
His body slammed into the archer¡¯s shelter with bone-crushing force. The building didn¡¯t stand a chance. It collapsed instantly, burying him in a cloud of dust and rubble.
The archer nocked another arrow, drawing his bow to finish Dovak off.
He never got the chance.
Nigel was already there. A single sweep of his scythe severed the archer¡¯s arms. The man barely had time to register his own dismemberment before the blade came down again.
Another clean strike, another body hitting the ground and disintegrating.
Chapter 18 - The First Stage (14)
The old man stood at a distance, watching. Calculating. His wrinkled fingers gripped his war maul, knuckles whitening as he weighed his options.
Dovak rolled his shoulders, shaking off dust and debris as he took his place beside Nigel. Together, they braced for another attack.
The old warrior finally made his decision. He charged.
Nigel and Dovak readied themselves¡ªfeet planted, grips tightening around their weapons.
Then, just as the old man closed the distance¡ª
A building flew straight into him.
The impact was instant. Bone and stone crunched together, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Dead before he could even swing.
Nigel barely had time to react before another massive chunk of debris hurtled toward them. Too fast to dodge.
Dovak threw away his greatsword.
Flexing his legs, he exhaled, planting his feet in place. Nigel could only watch.
The moment the rock reached them, Dovak met it head-on with his fist.
The force of the punch shattered the stone into a thousand fragments.
Tiny shards rained around them, scattering like glass.
Dovak blinked, looked at Nigel and winked with a wide grin "Debt repaid."
Nigel barely seemed to hear him. He mumbled something under his breath, eyes distant, before suddenly snapping back to focus.
"Stay alert."
Elsewhere, William swallowed hard. "Uh¡ I don¡¯t think splitting up was such a good idea."
"Silence." Claire¡¯s voice was sharp. "I make the decisions. Divide and conquer. Besides, I need you to guide me. I can fight just fine, but I can¡¯t navigate blind."
William rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean¡ yeah, okay."
Then¡ªtrouble.
Two figures emerged.
One wore a metal mask shaped into a sorrowful frown. The other bore a matching grin.
Between them, they held a single weapon¡ªa long, segmented chain, with a grip at each end.
William¡¯s stomach twisted. "...This looks bad."
Claire¡¯s hands tensed. "I can feel it. That¡¯s a Twin Chain."
"A what?"
Before he could finish the thought, Claire shoved him to the ground. A whirling blur of metal sliced through the air where his head had just been.
"Stay sharp!" Claire barked.
Her exoskeleton pulsed, releasing a shockwave that knocked back the incoming chain strikes.
The masked men didn¡¯t falter. They surged forward, aiming to trap Claire in their weapon¡¯s coils.
But she was faster.
Ducking, weaving, she evaded each attempt with machine-like precision. Then¡ªa counterattack. Charging her left arm, she lunged at the sorrowful-masked man. A direct strike to the face.
She never landed the hit.
The chain snaked around her wrist, tightening like a python. Before she could break free, they yanked¡ªslamming her into the ground.
William panicked.
Rushing in, he swung wildly at the grinning masked man¡ªonly for the chain to wrap around his leg.
Pain exploded up his calf as the pressure threatened to snap the bone. Tears blurred his vision. But he refused to give up.
Reaching deep, he focused. His wristband displayed a message.
[NULLIFICATION ACTIVATED]
The moment his palm touched the chain, its energy flickered¡ªvanishing.
The masked man hesitated.
William gritted his teeth. It worked. Even through the pain, he raised his knife. Shaking, exhausted¡ªbut ready to fight.
Claire took the opening.
Her opponent never even saw her coming.
A single, ruthless strike. The sorrowful-masked man collapsed into the dirt, unmoving.
The last remaining attacker turned just in time to see Claire standing over his fallen partner. For the first time since the tournament began, her helmet was gone.
Fiery red hair. Freckles. and glowing, orange eyes. Not human.
William barely breathed.
Claire smirked.
"Now the fun starts."
Then¡ªshe vanished.
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One moment she was still. The next¡ªshe was upon him.
Her movements were mesmerizing. Mechanical, yet fluid.
Every motion¡ªevery twist, every kick, every strike¡ªwas a seamless harmony between human instinct and machine precision.
One decisive hit. And the mask shattered.
For the first time, the masked man¡¯s face was revealed.
Eyes wide.
Full of terror.
Two hits. Both arms¡ªuseless.
Three hits. Right leg¡ªimmobilized.
And the fourth¡ªa brutal strike to the chest.
His ribcage collapsed inward, lungs crushed beyond repair. For a few agonizing seconds, he struggled to breathe¡ªthen, his body dissolved into dust, leaving behind a Diamantine.
Claire let out a shaky breath. ¡°Damn¡ still not used to Overload.¡±
Her exoskeleton¡¯s orange glow faded back to silver.
William took a slow step forward. "What¡ was that?"
She rubbed her temples. "I forced my exoskeleton past its normal limits. Gave myself a strength boost, but¡ª"
A sudden, sharp gasp cut her off. Her body seized up.
¡°Claire?¡± William took another step.
She clutched at her eyes, gritting her teeth.
¡°My helmet¡ªquickly!¡±
William grabbed it off the ground and pressed it into her hands. She snapped it on, locking it into place. For a long moment, she simply breathed.
Finally, she exhaled. ¡°¡That was close.¡±
William stared at her, concerned. ¡°What just happened?¡±
Claire straightened, her tone eerily casual. ¡°Exposure to open air burns my eyes. Not a big deal.¡±
¡°¡That¡¯s not normal,¡± William muttered. ¡°Is it a¡ª¡±
¡°Yes, it¡¯s a condition,¡± she cut in. ¡°Not important right now.¡±
William frowned. He wanted to press further, but now wasn¡¯t the time.
Claire took a deep breath. ¡°We need more Diamantines.¡±
William sighed. ¡°Yeah, yeah¡ let¡¯s go.¡±
They set off again, searching for more participants to hunt. They never got the chance.
The ground trembled beneath them. Buildings shifted, the cityscape twisting and reshaping itself, and thick wall of dust erupted into the air, obscuring their vision.
As they stumbled through the chaos, they weren¡¯t alone.
Dozens of participants crashed into them, thrown together by the unpredictable movement.
Then, finally¡ªstillness.
When the dust settled, William coughed into his sleeve. ¡°¡Where the hell are we?¡±
A familiar voice answered.
¡°Claire? William?¡±
Dovak.
Emerging from the haze, he grinned at them.
¡°Guess we¡¯re all back together again¡ªwhether we like it or not.¡±
¡°Seems that way,¡± Nigel added, stepping into view.
Claire rubbed her visor, though it was useless. ¡°What just happened?¡±
Nigel exchanged a look with Dovak.
¡°No clue.¡± Dovak crossed his arms. ¡°One second we were fighting¡ªnext thing I know, the city starts moving, and we get thrown into this mess.¡±
Nigel frowned, glancing at their surroundings. ¡°¡Something¡¯s coming.¡±
They all felt it. Something big. Something final.
The First Stage of the Tournament of Chaos was about to end.
¡°Congratulations on making it this far!¡± a woman in red floating above them announced, her voice booming with theatrical cheer. ¡°Your efforts have earned you the right to witness a final surprise event!¡±
A sudden rumble spread through the ground.
All around them, glowing blue particles gathered and began to coalesce¡ªshaping themselves into dozens of crystalline forms. Diamantines.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the air grew tense.
¡°Before you, stand all remaining participants and teams,¡± the woman continued. ¡°Whoever reaches fifty Diamantines first will advance to the next Stage¡ªand receive a bonus of one hundred thousand credits per team member!¡±
The offer echoed like a bell in a slaughterhouse.
¡°Remember,¡± she added with a grin, ¡°credits can be exchanged for armor, weapons, and valuable resources in the later Stages of the Tournament!¡±
¡°It¡¯s like a damn advertisement,¡± Dovak muttered under his breath.
But the woman was already raising her hand.
¡°Let the final event¡ begin!¡±
With a sweeping motion, she brought her arm down, and a massive horn blared through the arena.
Then¡ nothing. No one moved. Every participant stood frozen, eyes darting, calculating, waiting. The tension was suffocating. No one wanted to be the first to charge. No one wanted to be the first to die.
Claire, Dovak, William, and Nigel instinctively moved into a tight circle, standing back-to-back.
¡°This is¡ really not good,¡± William said, his voice shaking.
¡°How many Diamantines do we still need?¡± Dovak asked.
¡°Sixteen,¡± Claire answered, scanning the enemy teams.
Nigel remained quiet, his gaze fixed on the surrounding competitors. Four teams were already watching them¡ªeyes sharp, bloodthirsty. Their weapons twitched with anticipation, wicked grins spreading across their faces.
They wanted blood. Nigel knew what was coming. And he knew what had to be done.
He exhaled through his nose.
¡°Get behind me. Wait for them to make the first move.¡±
¡°What? Are you planning to serve us up on a silver platter?¡± Claire snapped.
¡°Tr¡ªjust trust me,¡± he said, stumbling over the word as if it were foreign on his tongue.
William didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Alright.¡±
Dovak grinned, sliding into position. ¡°If you¡¯re about to pull off something crazy, I wanna see it up close.¡±
Claire hesitated, eyes narrowing. Then, reluctantly, she moved behind him. ¡°Fine. But if this goes to hell, don¡¯t expect me to save you.¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t answer.
His focus was elsewhere.
And the battlefield was about to burn.
Dovak grinned. ¡°Oh, this is gonna be good.¡±
William let out a slow breath, settling into position. He wouldn¡¯t admit it, but he was just as eager to see what Nigel had planned.
Nigel scanned the battlefield, locking onto as many enemies as he could. He knew that skill would leave him completely drained¡ªhe had to make it count.
With a deep inhale, he activated it.
A hot gust of wind rippled through the area before thick, crimson liquid seeped from the ground, rising into the air and shaping itself into dozens of blood-red spears.
William¡¯s eyes widened. That was not just raw power¡ªit required great control.
He glanced at Nigel¡¯s wrist, expecting the bracelet¡¯s display to show the skill¡¯s name, but there was nothing.
Nigel¡¯s veins bulged grotesquely, his sclera flooded red from burst blood vessels. His amber eyes burned with an eerie glow.
The battlefield fell silent. The other teams had halted, frozen in place as dozens of spears hovered above them, aimed directly at their heads and hearts. No one was stupid enough to make the first move.
"L-listen..." Nigel¡¯s voice came out strained, choked. "The... moment I let this loose... r-run and grab the... D-Diamantines... fast..."
Dovak grinned, lowering into a sprinter¡¯s stance. "On your signal, boss."
Nigel clenched his jaw, his entire body trembling under the strain. Then¡ªhe exhaled.
The spears condensed further. With a sharp motion, he dropped his arm.
The blood-red lances shot forward.
Some barely scraped past their targets, while others pierced through bodies effortlessly, cutting through flesh and bone as if they were paper.
A chorus of screams filled the air, but Nigel wasn¡¯t watching. His vision blurred. His legs buckled.
Dovak, Claire, and William rushed into the chaos, sweeping up as many Diamantines as possible while fending off the remaining participants.
"Fourteen left!" Dovak called out, slamming a man into the ground and snatching two gleaming gems.
"Ten!" Claire followed, knocking out another pair of opponents.
"And now six!" Dovak cheered, dodging an attack.
William was locked in a desperate clash with a one-armed fighter, the man roaring in fury as he swung wildly despite his injuries.
"Three!" Claire shouted, her adrenaline-fueled grin widening.
"One more!" Dovak bellowed.
But then¡ª
They forgot about Nigel in the heat of the moment.
He had collapsed to his knees the instant his skill was unleashed. His vision flickered, darkening. His body refused to move. He could barely even hold his weapon.
Then, in the chaos, he saw it.
A barbaric-looking man barreling toward him, greatsword raised high, charging straight for his neck.
"Got it! The last one!" William¡¯s voice rang out, triumphant.
The blade cut through the air. It never reached Nigel¡¯s throat.
Nigel closed his eyes. A black vortex swallowed them whole. The woman in red floated above them once more, beaming.
"Congratulations! Nigel Lowell, Dovak Anir, Claire Miles, and William Stoneswood! You are the winners of this event! One hundred thousand credits each¡ªand you officially advance to the Second Stage of the Chaos Tournament!"
They had done it.
A well-earned rest awaited them after so much chaos.
Chapter 19 - Nyx & Sam
Somewhere in the Tenth Ring, the fire crackled softly, its faint warmth barely pushing back the cold that seeped through the cracks in the outpost¡¯s weathered walls. Outside, the wind howled, sweeping through the hollowed-out husks of old buildings, a bitter reminder that the place had little warmth left to offer.
Nyx sat cross-legged on the floor, idly turning her knife in her fingers, the firelight casting sharp shadows across her face. The flickering glow caught in her violet eyes, making them seem even colder than usual. Across from her, Sam lounged against a rusted supply crate, peeling back the lid of a dented can of tuna with an exaggerated grimace.
¡°This is just sad,¡± he sighed, lifting the can as if inspecting a crime scene. ¡°You¡¯d think after years of surviving in hell, the Wardens could afford something better than expired fish.¡± He gave it a tentative sniff. ¡°I swear, this smells worse than the last batch. You think food poisoning counts as a combat injury? Maybe I can get out of patrol duty.¡±
Nyx didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Eat it or starve, Sam.¡±
He groaned. ¡°Heartless. Completely heartless.¡±
She finally glanced at him, arching a brow. ¡°You¡¯ve eaten worse.¡±
¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I liked it.¡± He stabbed his fork into the mushy contents, grimacing before taking a reluctant bite. ¡°Ugh. I¡¯d kill for real food.¡±
Nyx leaned back against the crate, but her thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
The Wardens were losing. They both knew it.
Over the past few months, Sentinel raids had grown more precise. More ruthless. Outposts wiped out overnight. Safehouses exposed. Squads disappearing without a trace.
It was only a matter of time before they found this place, too.
¡°This is getting bad,¡± she muttered, almost to herself.
Sam let out a dry laugh. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re just now figuring that out? I thought the pile of bodies three bases ago was a good hint.¡±
Nyx shot him a look. ¡°I mean worse. They¡¯re finding us too easily.¡±
Sam twirled his fork idly. ¡°Well, yeah. The Sentinels don¡¯t screw around. And if the High Sentinel¡¯s involved, we might as well start digging our own graves.¡±
Nyx¡¯s jaw tightened.
The High Sentinel.
The man who had burned her city to the ground.
The suffocating smoke, blotting out the sky. The deafening roar of collapsing buildings. The screams, swallowed by Sentinel gunfire.
And the worst part? It hadn¡¯t been a war.
No enemy forces. No terrorist group like they had claimed. Just civilians. Ordinary people, wiped out in a single night under the guise of ¡°security measures.¡±
That was when she had learned what real power was.
Nyx exhaled slowly. Fighting back against power meant never letting it consume you.
And yet, here she was¡ªthinking about it again.
"You¡¯re doing it again," Sam noted, watching her with rare seriousness.
Nyx inhaled deeply, forcing herself back to the present. "It doesn¡¯t matter."
Sam hummed, unconvinced.
Before he could push further, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.
A young cadet burst into the room, breath uneven, face pale. "General Nyx¡ª" He hesitated, glancing between the two of them.
Nyx sat up straighter. "Speak."
The cadet swallowed hard. "News just came in from the Eleventh Ring."
Nyx¡¯s fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife.
"Go on."
The cadet hesitated. "A week ago, there was an attack. City Seventeen was wiped out. No survivors."
The fire cracked loudly. Then¡ªsilence.
Nyx felt something heavy settle in her chest.
The Eleventh Ring.
Where he lived.
She hadn¡¯t spoken to him in years. Had barely let herself think about him beyond fleeting moments of regret and what-ifs. But now¡ª
Her knuckles whitened around the blade¡¯s handle.
Nigel.
She forced the thought away. Dwelling on it wouldn¡¯t change anything. She stood up abruptly, grabbing her coat.
Sam raised a brow. "Uh¡ where exactly are you going?"
"I need to confirm something."
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He stared at her for a moment before realization clicked.
"Oh."
Nyx fastened her gloves, movements quick and precise. "I¡¯ll go to the ruins. If the Sentinels really did wipe out the entire city, there should still be evidence."
"Or it¡¯s a trap."
"Maybe." She adjusted her belt, checking her knives. "But I have to see for myself."
Sam exhaled through his nose, then pushed himself up, tossing the empty can aside.
"Fine, fine. You win. But I¡¯m coming with you."
Nyx turned to him, eyes narrowing. "You don¡¯t have to."
He smirked. "Yeah, but you¡¯d miss me."
She rolled her eyes and headed for the exit. "Get ready. We leave in an hour."
Sam let out an exaggerated sigh. "Great. Another suicide mission. Just what I needed."
But despite the sarcasm, he was already strapping on his gear.
They went to the building were the portal that would take them near City Seventeen was.
The machine was falling apart. A rusted metal frame, half its wiring exposed and fraying, barely holding itself together. The generator stuttered weakly, fighting to stay running.
Nyx crossed her arms, watching as a tired-looking soldier in patched-up gear cursed under his breath, adjusting the frequency dials. Every time the machine sputtered, his scowl deepened.
"How long is this going to take?" she asked, patience wearing thin.
Sam, standing beside her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, let out a dramatic sigh.
"Oh, don¡¯t rush the man. He¡¯s performing technological necromancy here. You can¡¯t just force these things to work with sheer willpower."
Nyx shot him a look.
Sam smirked. "Or maybe you can. Have you tried kicking it?"
The soldier didn¡¯t even look up. "Try it, and you can walk."
Sam muttered something under his breath but wisely let it go.
After several more minutes of tweaking, the machine let out a violent spark, and a swirling vortex of unstable energy formed within the rusted frame. It flickered erratically, barely holding together, but it was enough. The soldier wiped his brow.
"It¡¯ll get you there. Try not to die mid-jump."
Nyx wasted no time. "Let¡¯s go."
Sam groaned. "Ugh, I hate these things."
Then, without another word, they stepped through.
The sensation was instant and unnatural¡ªlike being ripped apart and stitched back together in the span of a heartbeat.
When they emerged on the other side, a dull gray landscape stretched before them.
The Eleventh Ring outpost was barely holding together¡ªa skeletal ruin of makeshift barricades, damaged comms towers, and exhausted soldiers keeping watch at poorly guarded entrances. Beyond it, the horizon was a wasteland of rusted metal and crumbling concrete.
And the air¡ªthick with the stench of oil and decay.
Nyx took a measured step forward, scanning the area. "Status report."
One of the stationed soldiers snapped to attention, but there was a weariness in his posture, like a man long past the point of hoping for good news.
"General Nyx," he greeted. "No sign of enemy movement. We received reports of the massacre a week days ago, but we haven¡¯t been able to confirm it. No reinforcements were sent."
Sam scoffed. "Yeah, because dead people don¡¯t need backup. Damn, news travel slow around here. This shit happened a week ago and we just received the report?"
The soldier¡¯s jaw clenched. He didn¡¯t reply.
Nyx ignored Sam¡¯s remark. "Any surviving civilians?"
The soldier hesitated. "Not that we know, ma¡¯am. If there were, they didn¡¯t come here."
Nyx gave a small nod, then turned to Sam. "We move now."
Sam stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. "Figured. A nice, peaceful stroll through the land of broken dreams. Can¡¯t wait."
The trek was slow. Unforgiving.
With no real cover, they were exposed to the elements¡ªthe biting wind, the occasional dust storm that stung their skin, the unsettling silence of a city that had already been dead long before the massacre.
At some point, Sam kicked a jagged piece of metal aside. "Hell of a place to live."
Nyx didn¡¯t respond.
She had spent most of her life surviving in places like this.
But this time, the journey felt different. Not just because of the emptiness¡ªbut because something was waiting at the end of it.
By the time the city came into view, the sun had dipped behind a thick curtain of smog, staining the sky in bruised shades of orange and gray.
And then, they saw it.
The smell hit first.
A heavy, choking stench that coiled around them like a living thing¡ªcooked flesh, rot, blood soaked too deep into the stone to ever wash away.
Bodies.
Piles of them. Some burned beyond recognition, others left to bloat and rot in the open air, like garbage tossed aside. Blackened corpses slumped against collapsed buildings. Human remains crushed beneath the weight of fallen steel.
Whatever the Sentinels had done here, it hadn¡¯t been war.
It had been erasure.
Sam exhaled sharply. "Well, that¡¯s a new level of fucked up."
Nyx stared at the devastation, her fists clenching so tightly her knuckles went white.
She had seen massacres before. She had witnessed cities burn.
But this¡ª
This was systematic.
The Sentinels hadn¡¯t just killed. They had made sure nothing remained.
A slight movement caught her eye¡ªa ragged cloth, shifting with the wind. For a fraction of a second, she thought someone was still alive.
But it was nothing. Just debris.
She let out a slow, controlled breath, but it did nothing to suppress the anger coiling in her gut.
"They¡¯re animals," she muttered, voice laced with venom.
Sam didn¡¯t argue.
There was nothing to argue.
They moved carefully, eyes scanning their surroundings.
But the Sentinels weren¡¯t here. Of course, they weren¡¯t. They never stuck around, and they left nothing worth returning to.
Once they were certain they were alone, Sam exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.
"We¡¯re not leaving them like this."
Nyx turned to him.
"The bodies," he clarified. "We should at least separate them. Bury them, if we can. I know it won¡¯t make a damn difference, but leaving them like this is just wrong."
She hesitated. Then¡ªshe nodded.
"Agreed.¡±
They worked for hours.
The process was slow, grueling. The bodies were broken, mangled, burned beyond recognition. They sorted them carefully, silently, trying to grant some scrap of dignity to those who had been denied it in death.
But there was one body they never found.
Nigel¡¯s.
Nyx stood over the last grave, arms tense at her sides.
Sam dusted off his hands. "So¡ what now?"
She was about to respond when her radio crackled.
Not from her touch. The channel had switched on its own.
Then, through the static, a voice slid into her ear. Smooth.
"You¡¯re wasting your time, Nyx."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who is this?"
A low chuckle. "No need for introductions."
Sam stiffened, shaking his head frantically, mouthing, Don¡¯t engage.
Nyx ignored him. "How did you get this frequency?"
"That¡¯s not important." The voice remained casual, unfazed. "What is important is that you¡¯re needed elsewhere."
Her grip tightened. "Explain."
A pause. Then, with quiet certainty¡ª
"Nigel Lowell is alive."
Her entire body locked up.
"He¡¯s in the Chaos Tournament," the voice continued. "He¡¯s already advanced to the Second Stage."
Sam cursed under his breath, shaking his head even more aggressively.
But the voice remained calm. "I can arrange it so you join him immediately. Skip the First Stage entirely."
Nyx said nothing.
She didn¡¯t know this man, and that was the problem. Whoever he was, he wasn¡¯t offering this out of kindness. He probably had an agenda. A purpose.
Then¡ªhe spoke again.
This time, only for her.
Sam saw the shift in her face. He couldn¡¯t hear the words, but whatever was said, it changed everything.
Nyx¡¯s jaw clenched. Then, after a heartbeat¡ª
"Fine. I accept."
Sam threw up his hands. "Of course you do. Because why would we ever take the safe option?"
Nyx didn¡¯t bother responding.
She turned her back to the graves. Back to the ruined city.
She had a new destination now.
Chapter 20 - The Contact (1)
Back at the Eleventh Ring outpost, the dim glow of emergency lights flickered overhead, casting uneven shadows along the battered walls. The air was stale, thick with the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and rusting metal. Soldiers moved about¡ªcleaning weapons, checking supplies¡ªbut none of them paid much attention to the two officers walking through the main barracks.
Sam broke the silence first.
¡°So. What¡¯s next?¡± He stretched, rolling his shoulders before lacing his hands behind his head, smirking. ¡°Let me guess¡ªmarch right up to the Sentinels and ask nicely for directions?¡±
Nyx barely spared him a glance. ¡°We¡¯re going to the Second Ring.¡±
Sam¡¯s arms dropped. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What?¡±
Nyx kept walking toward the command room, expecting him to follow. He did.
¡°We¡¯re meeting Samuel there. He¡¯s arranging a meeting with someone.¡±
Sam scoffed. ¡°Uh-huh. ¡®Someone.¡¯ You mean your mysterious radio boyfriend?¡±
Nyx stopped. Turned. Her violet eyes locked onto him with quiet intensity.
¡°It wasn¡¯t a ¡®boyfriend,¡¯ Sam. It was someone who knew something only I could know.¡±
That shut him up¡ªfor a second.
Then, he muttered, ¡°Right. And we¡¯re just gonna trust that? No name, no face, just some cryptic voice promising the world? You know that sounds like a textbook scam, right? Could be some sixty-year-old dude with an eye patch and a beer gut, catfishing you into a trap.¡±
Nyx exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple.
¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of ignoring leads.¡±
Sam crossed his arms. ¡°Fine. But how, exactly, do you plan on getting to the Second Ring? Last I checked, we don¡¯t have invitations to the high-society dinner party.¡±
Nyx resumed walking, her mind already moving ahead. ¡°The Eternal Train.¡±
Sam blinked.
Then, he blinked again.
¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±
She didn¡¯t respond.
Sam let out a long, suffering sigh. ¡°Of course you¡¯re not joking. Because why would we ever do things the easy way? No, let¡¯s just sneak onto the most secure transport in the Rings, ride along like a couple of stowaways, and hope we don¡¯t get caught and vaporized. Fantastic plan. Very subtle.¡±
Nyx ignored him, already calculating the logistics.
¡°We¡¯ll need to get to the Eighth Ring first. The train stations there are less fortified than the ones in the inner Rings.¡±
Sam narrowed his eyes. ¡°Less fortified. Not unfortified.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll sneak in, board the train, stay out of sight, and get off in the Second Ring,¡± she continued. ¡°Simple.¡±
Sam let out a sharp laugh. ¡°Yeah. Simple.¡±
Nyx shot him a warning look.
He raised his hands in surrender. ¡°Alright, alright. I¡¯ll shut up. When do we leave?¡±
¡°Tomorrow.¡±
The wind howled through the abandoned outskirts of the Eighth Ring, a relentless force that whipped up dust and loose scraps of metal, rattling them across the cracked pavement. The night was deep, cold, and stretched infinitely above them, casting an eerie glow over the towering train station ahead.
It loomed like a fortress, its dark silhouette contrasting against the artificial lights that pulsed along its floating rails¡ªa technological marvel in a dead world. The levitating tracks extended endlessly in both directions, disappearing into the abyss beyond the ring¡¯s edge.
Nyx and Sam stood in the shadows, just outside the station¡¯s floodlit perimeter. The air smelled of oil, steel, and something faintly metallic¡ªa scent that clung to everything in the industrial sectors.
At the entrance, Sentinels stood in formation, their white-and-gold armor reflecting the harsh artificial lights. Their weapons were drawn, visors scanning, their movements precise. No wasted gestures. No distractions. They weren¡¯t just standing guard. They were waiting for something.
Sam adjusted the strap of his gear bag, casting a wary glance at the station. ¡°So, fearless leader. What¡¯s the plan?¡±
Nyx¡¯s sharp eyes swept across the area, taking in every detail. ¡°We can¡¯t go through the front. There are too many guards.¡±
Sam rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, I figured that much.¡±
She ignored him. ¡°See the maintenance scaffolding on the east side?¡±
Sam followed her gaze. A thin, skeletal framework of walkways stretched up the side of the station, clinging to the structure like an afterthought. Some sections looked stable. Others¡ªless so. Dangling cables swayed gently in the wind, and rusted beams groaned under their own weight.
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¡°Climb up, avoid patrols, get onto the platform undetected,¡± she stated. ¡°From there, we find an access hatch on the underside of the train. Crawl in before departure.¡±
Sam let out a low whistle. ¡°Risky. I like it.¡±
They moved.
Keeping to the deepest shadows, they darted across the open ground, their steps light, deliberate, silent. Every second stretched unbearably long, the floodlights sweeping dangerously close as they made their way toward the scaffolding.
Reaching the base of the structure, Nyx scaled it with ease, her body moving with practiced efficiency. Sam followed¡ªless gracefully.
Halfway up, he muttered under his breath, ¡°If I fall to my death, tell everyone I was incredibly handsome.¡±
Nyx didn¡¯t answer.
At the top, they crouched behind a steel beam, peering down at the platform below.
The train was massive¡ªa sleek behemoth of black metal, its surface polished to a mirror sheen, hovering just above the levitating tracks. It hummed softly, a quiet mechanical growl as workers moved around it, checking systems, running diagnostics. The Sentinels remained stationed near the entrance, unaware of the two intruders lurking above them.
Nyx spotted the hatch. ¡°There.¡±
They timed their descent with the shifting patrols, moving with precise, measured steps. The moment the guards¡¯ backs were turned, Nyx slid down onto the train¡¯s surface, unlatched the maintenance hatch, and slipped inside.
Sam followed, grumbling as he squeezed into the tight space.
The compartment was cramped, suffocating, barely large enough to move in. Wires and pipes ran along the walls, and the low hum of the train¡¯s power core vibrated through the metal floor.
Then¡ªa deep, resonating rumble.
The train lurched forward, slowly at first, then building momentum. The outside world became a blur of neon lights and industrial ruins, fading into the distance as they vanished into the inner Rings.
They were on their way. The journey stretched on for days.
The compartment wasn¡¯t meant for long-term occupancy, but they made do¡ªrationing supplies carefully, using the narrow crawlspaces to stretch their legs when the patrol cycles allowed.
Water was limited, food even more so. Pre-packed rations¡ªstale, tasteless, but enough to keep them moving.
Sam sat with his back against the cold metal wall, tearing into a dry protein bar. ¡°Next time,¡± he grumbled between bites, ¡°we smuggle ourselves in with something more comfortable. Like a real train seat.¡±
Nyx barely spared him a glance.
Bathroom breaks were the trickiest part¡ªtiming their movements to avoid security sweeps, sneaking into employee quarters when necessary, and slipping back into their hiding place without a trace. It was a delicate balance, one wrong move spelling disaster.
But they made it.
And then¡ªthe Second Ring came into view.
The train slowed, its engines humming softly as it approached the pristine white station. The contrast from where they had come from was almost disorienting. The air was clearer, untouched by smog. The buildings¡ªtall, sleek, almost sterile¡ªstretched toward the sky, their white surfaces gleaming under the sun.
Security was tighter here. The Sentinels patrolled in well-organized formations, their armor polished to perfection, weapons held with a casual precision that only came from absolute confidence.
Nyx''s eyes flicked across the patrols, calculating. ¡°We can¡¯t use the same exit.¡±
Sam scoffed. ¡°No shit.¡±
They waited. Watching. Searching for a window of opportunity.
And then¡ªthey saw it.
A cargo crew unloading supplies. A hatch opening just long enough for them to slip through.
They moved.
Ducking low, they weaved through the workers, blending into the organized chaos. The moment their feet hit solid ground outside the train, they broke away¡ªsilent, swift and unnoticed.
The moment they entered the city, the shift was jarring.
The air was light, crisp, untainted by the rot of the lower Rings. The streets were clean, unnervingly so. Every surface, pristine. Every building, flawless. A city untouched by struggle, where war was something that happened to other people.
Sam let out a low whistle, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. ¡°Wow. I hate how nice this place is.¡±
Nyx said nothing. She led them away from the main streets, sticking to the less-patrolled alleyways. They moved quickly, efficiently, avoiding open spaces, slipping between gaps in surveillance.
They walked until they reached their destination.
A secluded hut, hidden deep within an untouched forest outside the city¡ªits aged wood and unassuming design a stark contrast to the pristine Second Ring. A security array surrounded the area, invisible to most, yet Nyx knew exactly how to bypass it.
Inside, two figures waited.
Samuel stood near a wooden table, arms crossed. Beside him, a man Nyx recognized instantly.
Bernard.
And next to him¡ªa woman.
Amelie.
Samuel¡¯s sharp gaze flicked to them as they entered, scanning them from head to toe with his usual calm, clinical intensity.
¡°You two look like you¡¯ve been dragged through a sewer.¡±
Sam huffed, brushing off his coat. ¡°Feels about right.¡± He stretched, wincing slightly. ¡°Ever tried stowing away on a train for days? Great for your back, not so great for your hygiene.¡±
Nyx barely acknowledged him. Her attention was locked onto Bernard.
¡°You¡¯re the one arranging this meeting.¡±
Bernard, seated with the same air of deliberate patience as always, gave a slow nod. ¡°I am.¡± His voice was smooth, measured¡ªcalm in a way that never felt entirely natural.
¡°And you must be Nyx. I¡¯ve heard quite a bit about you. It is my first time seeing you in person, but I think you already know about me.¡±
Nyx didn¡¯t react. ¡°Then you know we don¡¯t have time to waste.¡±
A faint smile tugged at Bernard¡¯s lips. ¡°Agreed. But first¡ªsit. Rest.¡± He gestured toward the chairs across from him. ¡°I imagine you haven¡¯t had a proper meal in days.¡±
Sam, already moving before Nyx could object, dropped into a chair. ¡°Finally. A man who understands priorities.¡± He reached for a tin of food from the table, prying it open. ¡°Please, don¡¯t mind if I do.¡±
Nyx remained standing. ¡°Who¡¯s the contact?¡±
Bernard set his elbows on the table, fingers steepled. ¡°Someone with access to the Tournament.¡±
Nyx¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°That¡¯s vague.¡±
¡°It¡¯s necessary.¡± Bernard¡¯s tone didn¡¯t shift. ¡°You¡¯ll meet them soon enough. For now, all you need to know is that this opportunity doesn¡¯t come often.¡±
Nyx exchanged a glance with Sam.
Still chewing, he raised an eyebrow. ¡°¡I don¡¯t like this.¡±
"And what do you want in return?" Nyx asked.
Bernard chuckled softly. "Straight to the point. I like that." He leaned forward slightly. "We want the same thing, Nyx¡ªthe downfall of the Sentinels. A change in the Rings. And to do that, we need pieces in play."
Nyx crossed her arms. "You think Nigel is one of those pieces."
Bernard¡¯s gaze remained steady. "Don¡¯t you?"
Silence settled over the room.
Nyx took a slow breath. She wasn¡¯t sure what she expected from this meeting, but Bernard was proving to be just as cryptic as the man on the radio.
"Fine," she said. "Set up the meeting."
Bernard nodded. "You¡¯ll have your chance soon."
Sam leaned back in his chair. "Great. Love these mysterious, high-stakes missions with no clear plan. Really gets the blood pumping."
Nyx shot him a look.
He raised his hands. "I¡¯ll shut up."
Amelie, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "You¡¯ll need to be ready to move at a moment¡¯s notice. I suggest you rest while you can."
Nyx exhaled sharply but nodded. "Let us know when it¡¯s time."
Bernard smiled faintly. "Oh, you¡¯ll know."
With that, the meeting was over.
Nyx and Sam left the secluded hut, following Samuel along a quiet, narrow path that stretched into the outskirts. The further they walked, the more distant the city felt¡ªfar from its gleaming towers, beyond the ever-watchful gaze of the Sentinels.
For a fleeting moment, they allowed themselves to imagine a life beyond war.
But they both knew better¡ªthat was an impossible dream.
Chapter 21 - The Contact (2)
The house was small but sturdy. It was simple¡ªtwo rooms, a compact kitchen, and, most importantly, a functioning bathroom. Someone had clearly prepared it in advance, ensuring it had just enough supplies to last a few days.
Samuel unlocked the door and stepped aside. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯ll serve. There¡¯s food, water, and a place to sleep. Get some rest¡ªyou¡¯ll need it.¡±
Nyx entered first, scanning every corner out of habit. The space was clean, practical. No personal touches, no unnecessary decorations. Just the bare minimum, like everything in her life had been for years.
Behind her, Sam ducked slightly to squeeze through the narrow doorway, his broad frame making the space feel even smaller. He rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness of the long journey. His silver hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in every direction from days of travel.
He took one look around and clapped his hands together. ¡°Alright, I call dibs on the shower.¡±
Nyx grabbed his collar before he could take another step. ¡°No. You wait.¡±
Sam groaned but didn¡¯t argue. He knew better. Though she stood just a little shorter than him, she had a presence that could make anyone feel small. Her slim frame was deceptive, hiding dense muscle beneath the worn combat suit she still hadn¡¯t changed out of. Even after everything, her violet eyes remained sharp, unwavering.
Without another word, she disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
By the time she emerged, cleaner than she¡¯d been in days, Sam was sprawled across the couch, arms thrown dramatically over his head.
¡°Finally,¡± he muttered, dragging himself upright. He barely spared her a glance before pushing himself to his feet. ¡°Right. My turn.¡±
He grabbed his things and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Nyx alone in the quiet.
She sat at the small table in the living area, towel-drying the ends of her damp hair. Her body ached, exhaustion settling into her bones now that the adrenaline had worn off. The last few days had been a blur¡ªradio calls, train-hopping, an unexpected meeting that only led to more questions. And now, waiting. Again.
She exhaled slowly, letting her head tip back against the chair.
The sound of running water from the bathroom faded into background noise as her mind drifted. There was no telling how long they¡¯d be stuck here. Hours? Days? Bernard hadn¡¯t given them a timeframe, just vague instructions to stay put. She hated waiting. Hated sitting still. Every second felt wasted.
A few minutes later, Sam reappeared, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. He looked less miserable now, though his usual smirk was absent, replaced by something more neutral.
He plopped into the chair across from her. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s next?¡±
Nyx crossed her arms. ¡°We wait for the signal. Could be tomorrow. Could be in a few days. Either way, we stay low and stay sharp.¡±
Sam exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. ¡°Not a fan of waiting. You know I like action.¡±
Nyx smirked faintly. ¡°Figured.¡±
Sam leaned back, studying her for a moment. Then, his voice dropped a little. ¡°You think this is a good idea?¡±
A long pause stretched between them.
¡°¡No,¡± she admitted finally. ¡°But it¡¯s the only one we¡¯ve got.¡±
Sam blew out a breath, pushing his chair back. ¡°Well, here¡¯s hoping we don¡¯t regret it.¡± He stretched, letting out a loud yawn. ¡°Alright, boss. I¡¯m crashing. Wake me if the world ends.¡±
Nyx didn¡¯t respond, only giving a small nod as he disappeared into one of the rooms.
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She sat there for a little while longer, letting the silence settle.
Tomorrow, they¡¯d see what came next.
Two days passed by.
Nyx was already awake when the radio crackled to life, the sharp static cutting through the early morning stillness.
She grabbed the device from the nightstand, bringing it to her ear. ¡°Nyx.¡±
Bernard¡¯s voice came through, calm as ever. ¡°Get to the hut. Now.¡±
Nyx frowned. ¡°The meeting was scheduled in two hours.¡±
¡°I know. But our contact has arrived ahead of schedule.¡±
That got her attention. She sat up fully, brushing strands of violet hair from her face. ¡°Understood. We¡¯re on our way.¡±
From the other room, a groggy voice groaned in protest. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. It¡¯s barely dawn.¡±
¡°Get up,¡± Nyx ordered, already pulling on her boots.
Sam staggered out a moment later, silver hair a tangled mess, rubbing his eyes. ¡°What, did your radio boyfriend wake you up again?¡±
¡°Bernard,¡± she corrected flatly, adjusting the holster on her thigh. ¡°He says the contact is waiting.¡±
That made Sam pause mid-yawn, his hand lowering slightly. ¡°Wait¡ªthe one getting us into the tournament?¡±
Nyx nodded.
Sam let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of sleep. ¡°Alright. Give me five minutes.¡±
They moved efficiently, gathering their gear and ensuring everything was in place before stepping outside. The city was still waking, the streets quiet under the soft glow of the rising sun.
Nyx led the way, her pace steady but urgent. Every step felt heavier than the last, anticipation curling in her stomach. She had no idea what to expect, and she hated that.
Within minutes, they reached the secluded hut. The door was slightly ajar, the faint scent of old wood and dust lingering in the air as they stepped inside.
Bernard was already there, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. His gaze flicked toward them, but Nyx barely noticed¡ªher attention was drawn immediately to the figure standing beside him.
The contact was a silhouette of pure black.
Their clothing was seamless, smooth¡ªalmost too smooth. Even their hands were covered in the same dark material, and beneath the hood, a featureless mask concealed any trace of identity. They stood unnaturally still, radiating an air of controlled patience, as if their presence alone warped the space around them.
And then, they spoke.
¡°You are finally here.¡±
The voice sent a subtle but undeniable chill down Nyx¡¯s spine. Deep. Resonant. Neither distinctly male nor female. The words seemed to carry weight, as though they didn¡¯t just speak¡ªbut imposed themselves into the room.
Sam stiffened beside her. His usual carefree demeanor cracked, replaced by wary tension.
The figure took a single, deliberate step forward. ¡°You stand before a unique opportunity. Do not waste it.¡±
Nyx narrowed her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re the one arranging our entry?¡±
¡°I am.¡±
There was no hesitation in the reply, no room for doubt.
¡°Skipping the first stage is no small matter,¡± the contact continued. ¡°Consider it a privilege. One that will not be offered again.¡±
Bernard remained where he was, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Sam, however, was far less patient. He frowned, shifting his weight slightly. ¡°Alright, so what¡¯s the catch?¡±
The contact turned their head toward him, the movement eerily smooth.
¡°You carry hope.¡±
Sam blinked. ¡°...What?¡±
¡°The gears have begun turning. You must move forward, or they will stall. If they stall, the mechanism will never open. And without that¡ the truth will remain buried.¡±
Silence thickened the air.
Nyx didn¡¯t react, but she felt Sam shift beside her, his muscles tensing. They were both used to cryptic nonsense, but something about the way the figure spoke¡ªcalm, absolute¡ªmade it impossible to dismiss.
Before either of them could demand clarification, the contact reached into their cloak and produced two small, metallic devices, no larger than a coin.
¡°These will take you to the first Delta Zone.¡±
Nyx took one, rolling it between her fingers. The surface was impossibly smooth¡ªno markings, no seams, nothing to indicate how it worked.
Sam hesitated before grabbing his. ¡°So that¡¯s it? No more weird riddles? No last-minute life advice?¡±
The figure remained still.
Then¡ªwithout a sound, without the slightest shift in the air¡ªthey vanished.
Not teleported. Not walked away.
One moment they were there. The next, the space where they stood was empty.
Sam took a step back, eyes widening. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s new.¡±
Nyx¡¯s gaze lingered on the empty space, her grip tightening around the device.
Bernard finally pushed off the table, his voice unusually careful. ¡°I don¡¯t know who they are,¡± he admitted, ¡°but they¡¯re not someone you ignore.¡±
Nyx turned to him, studying his face. ¡°Who arranged this meeting?¡±
Bernard exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°I was only told to facilitate it. Nothing more.¡±
Sam let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand down his face. ¡°Great. So we¡¯re just rolling with this, then?¡±
¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Nyx muttered, eyes still on the device in her palm.
Bernard¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°One last thing before you go.¡±
Nyx and Sam looked up.
¡°The Chaos Tournament isn¡¯t just a battlefield,¡± Bernard said, his voice steady. ¡°The scale of power inside it is unpredictable. And the further you go, the stronger the opposition gets. If you don¡¯t evolve, you die.¡±
A pause.
Nyx gave a slow nod. ¡°Understood.¡±
Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°More cryptic warnings. Love it.¡±
Bernard gestured toward the devices. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±
Nyx and Sam exchanged a glance.
Sam scoffed. ¡°Well. No turning back now.¡±
Without hesitation, Nyx pressed her thumb to the device.
A split second later, the world shattered around them.
Chapter 22 - Delta Zone (1)
Nyx and Sam landed on solid ground, the lingering sensation of teleportation rippling through their bodies like an aftershock. The sudden shift in environment was almost jarring.
Gone were the scorched battlefields, the suffocating stench of gunpowder, and the looming presence of Sentinel patrols. Instead, they were met with something wholly unfamiliar.
Wide, pristine roads stretched before them, framed by sleek, modern buildings untouched by war. The air smelled different¡ªcrisp, filtered, as if even the atmosphere had been curated to perfection. Artificial sunlight cast a golden glow over the district, highlighting the towering palm trees that swayed gently along the sidewalks.
It was¡ a resort.
Nyx¡¯s steps slowed, her eyes scanning the strange in-between space. The Delta Zone was more than just a checkpoint¡ªit was a manufactured oasis, a resting ground designed to lull participants into a fleeting sense of peace before the next stage of the tournament tore them apart again.
Luxury hotels loomed overhead, their sleek facades advertising five-star accommodations. Neon-lit storefronts boasted everything from high-grade weaponry to casual fashion, while massive entertainment complexes lined the streets¡ªa cinema, a casino, even a high-end bowling alley. The entire place pulsed with energy, a stark contrast to the brutal reality that awaited beyond it.
Sam let out a low whistle, hands resting on his hips as he took in the sight. ¡°Now this¡ªthis is what the tournament should¡¯ve been. Skip the murder games, keep the five-star getaway. Everybody wins.¡± He stretched his arms above his head, looking almost impressed. ¡°I mean, come on. A casino? We could¡¯ve just gambled our way to an early retirement.¡±
Nyx barely heard him.
They walked further into the district, weaving through the steady flow of participants. A nearby caf¨¦ bustled with activity, where a few contestants sat on an outdoor terrace, sipping drinks as if they weren¡¯t trapped in a battle for survival. Further down, a group gathered around a massive holographic billboard displaying tournament statistics¡ªplayer rankings, recorded fights, even betting odds on who would survive the next stage.
¡°They¡¯re really making a show out of this,¡± Sam muttered, eyeing a vendor selling luxury meals, completely out of place in an event built on bloodshed. ¡°Can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s genius or messed up. Either way, it¡¯s one hell of a way of entertaining.¡±
Nyx still wasn¡¯t listening.
Her gaze swept over the crowd. Participants filled the streets, moving with varying levels of tension¡ªsome relaxed, indulging in temporary luxury, while others walked with cold precision, their minds already set on survival. A group emerged from one of the supply shops, arms filled with bags of rations and medical kits. Nearby, the sharp clatter of combat echoed from a large open-air training ground, where fighters were already testing their skills.
Her eyes lingered there.
A handful of participants stood out among the sparring groups.
A short, blonde guy. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark skin.
And¡ª
Her breath caught in her throat.
A familiar figure.
Nigel.
Her body locked up as if a fist had clenched around her ribcage, squeezing the air from her lungs. The world around her blurred, drowned beneath the rush of memories slamming into her like a tidal wave.
A younger Nigel¡ªsharp-eyed, brimming with quiet defiance, standing in front of her during training. The slight smirk tugging at his lips when he effortlessly took down a superior officer in hand-to-hand combat. The rare moments when he let his guard down just enough for a real conversation.
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Then¡ª
Blood. Screams. The clinking of chains against cold concrete.
A broken boy, covered in wounds, barely breathing.
She inhaled sharply, forcing herself back to the present.
This wasn¡¯t then. This wasn¡¯t the past.
But looking at him now, standing there¡ªalive, whole, yet irrevocably different¡ªNyx wasn¡¯t sure if that was better or worse.
She blinked. The memories overlapped with reality.
For a second, the past and present blurred together¡ªNigel, no longer a broken remnant of what he once was, now standing tall, sparring with his companions. Every movement was precise, controlled, a sharp contrast to the reckless, desperate boy she last remembered.
He was alive. He was there.
¡°Hello?¡±
Fingers snapped in front of her face.
Nyx flinched, barely holding back the instinct to react on muscle memory alone. Her eyes refocused just in time to see Sam staring at her, arms crossed, brow raised.
"You good?" He studied her, his usual smirk absent. "Thought I lost you there for a second."
Nyx exhaled, steadying herself. "...I¡¯m fine."
"Yeah, sure." Sam¡¯s tone dripped with disbelief as he followed her gaze¡ªthen, finally, he saw him. " Oh. Huh. That really is him." He let out a low whistle. "Gotta hand it to our ¡®contact¡¯¡ªskipping the first stage really put us right where we needed to be.¡±
Nyx didn¡¯t move.
A hundred scenarios ran through her mind in an instant.
Should she approach? Wait for the right moment? Would he even want to see her again?
Her fingers curled into fists.
Sam, however, was already done with the overthinking.
"Oh, hell no." He turned to her with a look of sheer exasperation. "We did not sneak into the Second Ring, hitchhike on a goddamn train, and deal with cryptic masked weirdos just for you to stand here like a statue."
Nyx said nothing.
Sam sighed through his nose. Then, without warning¡ª
He shoved her forward.
"Go," he said. "Say hi for me."
Nyx inhaled sharply, shooting him a glare over her shoulder, but he just grinned, completely unapologetic.
She forced her legs to move.
Her steps were steady at first, her usual confidence keeping her posture straight. Sam followed behind, hands in his pockets, silent for once.
But the closer she got, the heavier her body felt.
Her pace slowed. A strange, suffocating weight curled in her chest, growing heavier with every step.
Nigel was right there. She hadn''t seen him in years. Hadn¡¯t heard his voice since¡ª
No.
She pushed the memories away.
Her feet dragged. Her breath hitched.
The last few meters felt impossible. Her mind screamed at her to keep going, but her body resisted, as if something¡ªno, as if she herself¡ªwas holding her back.
Sam sighed dramatically.
"Gods above, you¡¯re impossible."
Without another word, he gave her one last, small push.
Nyx stumbled forward.
She caught herself just in time, stopping just a few meters away from him.
Nigel had his back turned, finishing a smooth, fluid motion with his scythe.
Then¡ª
He stilled. Slowly, he turned.
Their eyes met. Violet and amber.
The world around them dimmed, as if everything else had momentarily ceased to exist.
Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.
They just stared.
And then¡ª
Dovak¡¯s palm struck Nigel¡¯s back with a loud smack, making him lurch forward slightly.
"Oi, focus! You keep zoning out¡ªwhat¡¯s wrong with you?"
Nigel blinked, shaking himself back to reality. His gaze flickered from Dovak back to her.
Nyx took a hesitant step forward, but before she could speak¡ª
"Hey," Nigel said. His voice was calm, almost casual. "Been a while."
Nyx froze. He approached me first?
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Nigel studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, after a beat¡ª
"What are you doing here? Thought you had duties with the Wardens."
Nyx swallowed, forcing herself to speak. "Some¡ things happened."
She hated how uncertain she sounded.
Sam, ever the opportunist, took the chance to cut the suffocating tension.
"Whew! So this is the Nigel, huh?" He grinned, stepping forward. "Gotta say, I¡¯ve heard a lot about you."
His gaze flicked briefly to Dovak, something unreadable passing through his expression¡ªmild curiosity, maybe something else.
"Really?" Nigel arched an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah," Sam continued, smirking. "Nyx never shuts up about¡ª"
A sharp glare from Nyx cut him off instantly.
Sam coughed. "Ahem. Anyway, nice to meet you, kid."
Nigel barely reacted, his eyes shifting between her and Sam before settling back on Nyx.
A pause.
Then¡ª
"You wanna get a drink?" he asked. "To catch up."
Nyx¡¯s breath caught.
She had prepared for a hundred different scenarios. Coldness. Resentment. Maybe even indifference. Not¡this. Not a simple invitation, like nothing had changed.
Sam, of course, was already grinning like an idiot.
"Oh, you must absolutely go," he said, far too entertained, before turning to Dovak and William. "C¡¯mon, let¡¯s leave these two alone before the tension strangles us."
Dovak snorted, throwing a knowing glance at Nyx before patting Nigel on the back again.
"Try not to be too awkward, buddy."
Nigel shot him a dry look.
William simply nodded, offering Nyx a small, polite smile before walking off with the others. That left just the two of them.
Nyx exhaled slowly. "Alright," she said, her voice steadier now. "Lead the way."
And with that, she followed him into the crowd.
Chapter 23 - Delta Zone (2)
The park was serene. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting soft shadows over the neatly trimmed grass. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and in the distance, the faint laughter of people enjoying their break from the Tournament echoed through the air.
Nigel and Nyx sat on a wooden bench, a small pond stretching out in front of them, its surface barely rippling. Between them, two cups of a local Delta Zone brew rested on the bench¡¯s armrest¡ªneither had taken more than a few sips.
Yet, despite the peaceful surroundings, a thick, awkward silence hung between them.
Nigel tapped his fingers against his knee, his gaze locked on the water. Nyx folded her arms, stealing glances at him every few seconds, as if expecting him to suddenly vanish.
Eventually, she broke the silence.
"I thought you¡¯d hate me," she admitted. Her voice was low, hesitant. "Or at least resent me."
Nigel sighed. "I did. For a while."
Nyx tensed, but he continued before she could say anything.
"After the accident, after being left on my own in the Eleventh Ring for more than six years¡ I had a lot of time to think." His amber eyes flickered to her, then back to the water. "I know you weren¡¯t at fault. You were just another soldier. The ones responsible were our superiors. The ones who gave the orders. The ones who treated us like we were disposable."
Nyx clenched her fists, staring at the ground. "Even if that¡¯s true, I¡¯m still sorry."
Nigel didn¡¯t reply right away.
"The Wardens changed after that, you know," she continued, her voice quieter. "After what happened, after losing you and Martin, there was an internal shift. The higher-ups were replaced. But it didn¡¯t matter. We still kept decaying."
A bitter chuckle escaped Nigel. "Figures."
Silence settled again, but this time, it wasn¡¯t as suffocating.
Nyx hesitated before asking, "How was life in the Eleventh Ring?"
"Peaceful." Nigel¡¯s lips curled slightly, as if in amusement. "Until it wasn¡¯t."
Nyx arched an eyebrow. "Until it wasn¡¯t?"
Nigel leaned back against the bench, exhaling through his nose. "I killed a High Official of the Sentinels."
Nyx stiffened.
"The Sentinels retaliated by wiping out the entire city."
She turned fully to him, eyes wide. "You¡ª" She stopped herself, exhaling sharply. "How did you survive?"
"Someone called me over the radio," he said. "Told me what I had to do. And, luckily, the High Official I killed had an entry ticket to the Chaos Tournament."
Nyx ran a hand through her violet hair, her mind racing. "Damn¡ killing a High Official isn¡¯t easy, Nigel. Even for someone like you."
He didn¡¯t answer right away, and for a moment, Nyx wondered if she had said something wrong.
Then, he let out a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"You¡¯ve still got some fire in you," she said, crossing her arms. "Looks like it never really died out after all."
Nigel¡¯s smile faded. He shook his head. "It¡¯s not the same."
Nyx frowned.
"Back then, I wanted to be stronger," he continued. "To improve. To push myself further. But after the accident¡" He looked down at his hands. "I stopped. I don¡¯t know how to move forward anymore."
Nyx studied him, feeling something tighten in her chest.
She had always known Nigel to be relentless¡ªsomeone who never stopped, never settled. Seeing him like this, stuck in place, was almost unreal.
For the first time, she wondered¡ was he even here to win?
Nigel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His fingers intertwined as he stared at the ground, his expression unreadable.
"I escaped," he said. "But I don¡¯t even know why I bothered."
Nyx turned to him, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.
"A part of me wanted to get stronger," he admitted. "Stronger than I was back then. Maybe even strong enough to get revenge against the Sentinels."
Nyx remained silent, listening.
"When I first entered the tournament, I thought that drive would be enough to push me forward. Maybe I¡¯d find a reason along the way. Maybe I¡¯d actually become something more."
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He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
"But then, as the first stage progressed¡ that feeling started dying out." His amber eyes lifted to the horizon, distant and unfocused. "This tournament is beyond anything I ever imagined. The people here¡ the things they can do¡"
Nigel clenched his hands into fists.
"I¡¯m nothing in comparison," he said quietly. "I feel like a totally movable object trying to do something against an unstoppable force."
Nyx watched him carefully. She had never heard him talk like this before, and it bothered her.
She leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose. "I¡¯ve seen people who give up, Nigel." Her voice was calm but firm. "You¡¯re not one of them."
Nigel didn¡¯t react.
She glanced up at the artificial sky above them, then back at him. "The Nigel I knew wouldn¡¯t be sitting here, saying he¡¯s ¡®nothing.¡¯ He¡¯d be out there, proving himself wrong."
A beat of silence.
Then, finally¡ªNigel huffed a quiet, almost amused breath. "You¡¯re making this sound simple."
Nyx smirked faintly. "It is. You either give up, or you don¡¯t."
She stood, stretching slightly before stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. "Come on. We¡¯ll figure this out. Together."
For a moment, Nigel just stared at her.
Then¡ªhe stood too.
Maybe she was right. Maybe, despite everything, there was still a way forward.
And for the first time in a long while¡
He was willing to take a step.
Meanwhile, the rest of the group had found a very different way to spend their time.
The beach-themed bar was buzzing with conversation, the sound of waves playing softly from hidden speakers. Sam leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink with a lazy motion as he explained.
"A margarita," he said, voice carrying a dramatic flair, "is the perfect balance of sweet, sour, and strong. A refined cocktail. The salt rim enhances the flavors, the lime adds that fresh kick, and the tequila¡ª" he raised his glass, "¡ªbrings it all together in a harmonious dance of alcohol and citrus."
Dovak, who had just taken a sip, made a face. "This barely qualifies as alcohol." He set the glass down, unimpressed.
Sam sighed, exasperated. "Of course you¡¯d say that."
Dovak grinned, reaching into his inventory with an anticipating motion. "That¡¯s because you haven¡¯t tried real liquor yet."
Then, he pulled out a small, unmarked bottle filled with a deep, scarlet-red liquid. The color shimmered slightly under the dim lights, almost hypnotic in its richness.
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Please tell me that¡¯s wine."
Dovak chuckled. "Oh, it¡¯s something better." He set the bottle down with a satisfying clink. "Gentlemen, prepare yourselves. You are about to taste the finest liquor to ever exist, a drink that surpasses everything else in the Rings."
William, curious, leaned in. "What is it called?"
Dovak smirked. "Some call it Liquid Death. Some, the Widowmaker. But me?" He tapped the bottle. "I like to call it The Juice of Life."
With a flick of his wrist, he uncorked it.
The smell hit them instantly.
A wave of pure, unfiltered foulness crashed over Sam and William, their faces twisting in sync. It was as if something had died, fermented, and then was set on fire¡ªall at once.
Sam gagged, covering his mouth. "You¡¯re trying to kill us."
Dovak, on the other hand, took a deep inhale and exhaled in satisfaction. "That¡¯s the good stuff."
"You¡¯ve gotta be joking," William muttered, his stomach churning.
Dovak ignored them, pouring a small amount into three glasses. The thick, almost syrupy liquid settled at the bottom, swirling as if alive.
William, fueled by a mix of courage and sheer stupidity, picked up his glass. "Alright¡ screw it."
He downed the drink.
Instant regret.
William¡¯s throat burned like molten metal had just been poured straight down his esophagus. His stomach twisted violently, his vision blurred, and for a brief, horrifying moment, he genuinely wondered if this was how he died.
He doubled over, coughing uncontrollably. "That¡¯s¡ª" he gasped between wheezes, "¡ªthat¡¯s actually liquid death."
Dovak erupted into laughter, slapping the table hard enough to make the glasses tremble. "Oh, you lightweight! Come on, try another sip."
Sam hesitated, eyeing his own drink like it was a ticking time bomb. "You know what? Fine."
With a deep breath, he steeled himself and downed a mouthful.
Instant regret.
The moment the liquid touched his tongue, his body rejected it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to spit it out, but his pride refused to let him. He forced himself to swallow, his throat searing in protest. His entire face twisted in agony, his lungs burned, and for a split second, he considered punching Dovak in the face.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he croaked. "This should be illegal!"
Dovak just grinned. "Go on. Take another."
Sam glared at him, ready to throw his glass into the nearest wall¡ª
But then, against all logic, he did.
And everything changed.
The once repulsive scent now carried something rich and inviting. The harsh, burning sensation was gone, replaced by an intense warmth that spread through his chest like a comforting fire. The taste¡ªcomplex, deep, layered¡ªwas unlike anything he had ever experienced before.
"Holy shit," Sam breathed. "This is¡ incredible."
William blinked, still wiping his watering eyes. He hesitated, then took another sip. His reaction mirrored Sam¡¯s. "Wait, what? It doesn¡¯t taste the same anymore."
Dovak leaned back, smug. "Happens every time."
William peered into his glass, fascinated. "Why does it do that?"
Dovak swirled his drink, the thick liquid shifting hypnotically. "It¡¯s because of the main ingredient. The Niur Flower."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of it."
Dovak¡¯s smirk lingered, but something else flickered in his expression. "Not surprising. It¡¯s been extinct for decades."
Both Sam and William paused.
Dovak continued, his voice quieter now. "The Niur Flower had some¡ interesting properties. Invigorates the body, sharpens the senses. A natural stimulant with no side effects. Like downing a gallon of caffeine but without the crash."
William looked down at his drink, suddenly feeling as if he were holding something priceless. "Wait, if it¡¯s extinct, then how do you have this?"
Dovak¡¯s expression darkened, just for a second. The easygoing grin faltered, replaced by something harder¡ªsomething bitter. Then, just as quickly, the mask returned.
"Because my people¡ªthe Debianites¡ªwere the ones who cultivated it."
Silence settled between them, heavier than before.
Sam tapped the rim of his glass. "So, you¡¯re telling me that we¡¯re drinking something worth more than half the Rings combined?"
Dovak raised his glass. "More or less."
William exhaled, shaking his head. "This tournament is insane."
Dovak clinked his glass against theirs, his grin returning. "Then drink up, boys. We¡¯re living history."
Nigel and Nyx walked through the lively streets, their steps slow and steady. The air was cool, carrying the scent of salt from the artificial beach nearby, mixed with the faint aroma of food stalls offering all sorts of exotic dishes. The sun had begun to set, casting an orange hue over the entire place, the neon lights of the resort district flickering to life.
The brief moment of quiet between them felt oddly¡ normal.
But normal never lasted.
The bar was loud before they even stepped inside. And the moment they did, the sight before them was¡ less than dignified.
Sam, Dovak, and William were completely drunk.
Chapter 24 - The Library (1)
Dovak leaned back in his chair, face flushed red, laughing so hard that he was barely making a sound. Sam, now in full storytelling mode, swung his arms dramatically, reenacting some wild tale that neither Nyx nor Nigel could make sense of. And William¡ªwho, just hours ago, had been the shy and awkward one¡ªwas grinning like an idiot, nodding along with whatever nonsense they were spewing.
Nyx exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Nigel let out a quiet sigh. ¡°Figures.¡±
Dovak, still catching his breath, spotted them and immediately threw his arms up. ¡°Oh, come on! You two are so boring.¡± He gestured toward the empty seats at their table. ¡°Sit down! Drink with us! For once in your miserable, serious lives, have fun!¡±
Before either of them could answer¡ª
A bell rang.
A deep, reverberating chime echoed across the Delta Zone, cutting through the laughter, music, and chatter like a blade through silk. The entire area stilled. Conversations died.
A second later, their wristbands emitted a soft notification sound.
A glowing holographic message materialized above their wrists.
[Check your inventories. A glimpse of what¡¯s to come awaits.]
Nigel immediately pulled up his inventory. The others followed.
Inside, something new had appeared.
A weapon.
With a flick of his fingers, Nigel materialized it. The moment it landed in his hand, he could tell¡ªthis wasn¡¯t ordinary.
A sword¡ªsleek, slightly curved, polished to perfection. The handle was sturdy but elegant, and its sheath was adorned with intricate golden carvings. Near the base of the blade, two letters were engraved:
Y.Y.
The others examined their own. Identical. Nyx ran a thumb over the engraving, violet eyes narrowing. ¡°Who¡¯s Y.Y.?¡±
¡°A better question,¡± Sam muttered, suddenly much more sober, ¡°is what¡¯s next?¡±
Nigel glanced around. They weren¡¯t the only ones.
Dozens¡ªno, hundreds¡ªof participants were drawing the same swords from their inventories, hanging them at their waists like the newest fashion trend. Some were already testing their balance, practicing movements in the open courtyards. Others inspected them as if trying to decode their significance.
One thing was certain: this wasn¡¯t just a gift. It was a message.
William snapped his fingers. ¡°I passed by a library earlier. It was huge¡ªprobably as big as the hotel. If this means something, maybe there¡¯s a record of it somewhere.¡±
Dovak and Sam both turned to him, wide-eyed.
¡°¡How,¡± Sam asked, pointing at him, ¡°are you fine?¡±
William blinked. ¡°What?¡±
¡°You were just¡ª¡± Sam gestured wildly. ¡°¡ªgone, dude. Wasted. And now you¡¯re talking about libraries?¡±
Dovak squinted, rubbing his chin. ¡°Are you a secret cyborg?¡±
William rolled his eyes. ¡°Can we focus?¡±
Nyx nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a good idea. Let¡¯s go.¡±
One by one, they secured their swords and left the bar.
Some wanted information. Some wanted answers. And some¡ just wanted to be ready.
The streets of the Delta Zone were still bustling, even as the artificial sun dimmed slightly to indicate late evening. Their newly acquired swords hung at their sides, the engraved "Y.Y." still a mystery.
After following William¡¯s directions, they finally arrived at the library.
It was massive.
A colossal stone structure loomed before them, its intricate carvings swirling across its surface like veins of knowledge etched into the very walls. A large wooden door, easily over five meters tall, stood in the center¡ªimposing, absolute.
William took a cautious step forward. "Well¡ here it is."
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Sam tilted his head. "Huh. Bit dramatic for a place full of books, don¡¯t you think?"
Dovak cracked his knuckles. "It¡¯s just a door. Let¡¯s open it."
He stepped forward and pushed against it with one hand. It didn¡¯t budge.
He frowned, placing both hands on the wood and shoving harder. Nothing.
"Okay, that¡¯s annoying," Dovak muttered.
Sam stepped up beside him, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, big guy, tag me in."
He took a deep breath, cracked his fingers, and then gave the door a light push. Nothing.
He pushed harder. The door didn¡¯t even creak.
Now visibly irritated, Sam turned to Nyx. "Okay, so what¡¯s the plan? We knock? Speak ¡®friend¡¯ and enter?"
Nyx raised an eyebrow. "You could just try thinking for once."
Sam scoffed. "Please. I¡¯m a man of action." He turned back and squared his stance. "Alright. Plan B."
Before anyone could stop him, he kicked the door.
A dull thud echoed through the air.
The door did not move.
Sam, however, clutched his foot and cursed under his breath. "Ow. Okay. Maybe not my best idea."
Dovak smirked. "Let me try."
He slammed his fist against the wood. Hard.
Nothing.
Dovak¡¯s smirk vanished. He punched it again¡ªharder this time. Again, nothing.
William sighed. "Maybe it¡¯s sealed by some kind of mechanism?"
Nyx exhaled, already losing patience. "Let me¡ª"
"That¡¯s because the door only exists to those who believe it is real," a voice said from behind them.
All five of them whipped around at the same time.
A man stood behind them, dressed in worn adventurer¡¯s attire, with a black shemagh wrapped around his head and a matching black turban. The only visible part of him were his sharp, emerald-green eyes¡ªancient yet amused, like someone who had seen far too much and found it all endlessly entertaining.
"You see," the man continued, "if you walk toward it believing it is false, you will pass through as if it were never there."
Nyx¡¯s gaze narrowed. "That sounds like nonsense."
The man chuckled. "Then allow me to demonstrate."
Without breaking stride, he walked directly toward the door¡ª
And passed straight through.
No sound. No resistance.
He simply ceased to be in front of them and was now on the other side.
The group stared.
Sam blinked. "¡Okay, what the hell?"
Dovak whistled, impressed. "Now that¡¯s a neat trick."
They exchanged looks. A silent agreement passed between them.
Then¡ªone by one¡ªthey stepped forward, walking directly into the seemingly solid wood.
And just like that¡ª
They were inside.
The air changed.
A vast rectangular hall stretched before them, lined with towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch impossibly high, disappearing into a second floor above. Ornate candelabras flickered with golden light, illuminating the space with a soft, perpetual glow.
A grand staircase stood at the back, splitting into two paths¡ªone leading up, the other spiraling into a dark basement below. Beside it, two smaller doors, identical to the massive one they had just passed through.
At the center of it all¡ªthe man from before stood waiting.
"Well done!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a mix of genuine delight and theatrical flair.
He placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Librarian, the keeper of this place. I was waiting for you."
Nyx crossed her arms. "You expected us?"
The Librarian''s eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "Of course."
William, clearly suspicious, stepped forward. "How did you know we were coming?"
The Librarian turned his gaze to him and¡ªwithout hesitation¡ªwinked.
"Because you are not complete yet."
William hesitated. "What?"
The Librarian gestured toward the endless shelves. "She is here. Somewhere among the books."
Nyx¡¯s gaze sharpened. "She?"
"Your missing companion," The Librarian said smoothly. "She arrived earlier and asked where to find books on electronics, not that she can read them with that damaged helmet of hers, huh. If you wish to reunite with her, you will find her that way."
He motioned to the leftmost aisle, where enormous shelves stretched endlessly, filled with what had to be thousands of books.
Nigel¡¯s pace quickened, his steps sharp against the polished floor as they moved through the towering aisles.
Nyx narrowed her eyes. ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Nigel muttered. ¡°But that guy gives me weird vibes.¡±
Dovak snorted, hands resting lazily on his belt. ¡°You¡¯re just paranoid.¡±
But William wasn¡¯t laughing. He rubbed his arms as if shaking off a chill. ¡°No¡ I get it. The moment he showed up, I felt it too.¡±
Nigel shot him a glance. ¡°Exactly. Something about him is¡ off. And if he really is the Librarian, then I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he knows everything happening in this place.¡±
William swallowed hard, nodding.
Dovak, though still skeptical, lifted his gaze to the endless shelves above them. He wouldn¡¯t admit it out loud, but¡ the Librarian had felt unnatural. His presence was too smooth, his words too knowing.
They pressed forward.
The aisles stretched endlessly, towering bookshelves casting long shadows in the dim candlelight. They called for Claire in hushed tones, moving carefully through the seemingly endless rows.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
A strange tension coiled in Nigel¡¯s chest.
The further they walked, the more the space around them felt¡ wrong. Like the bookshelves weren¡¯t just standing there, but watching. Like the rows were shifting when they weren¡¯t looking.
His fingers twitched at his side.
Then¡ª
Something caught his eye.
A book, wedged perfectly between two thick tomes. Jet black leather. The spine gleamed under the candlelight, embossed with strange, swirling designs.
"The Homogenization of Species," by Joseph W. Whites.
Nigel hesitated.
Something about the book felt wrong.
Yet, at the same time¡
He reached out. The moment his fingers touched the cover, a subtle chill crawled up his arm. Ignoring it, he pulled the book free and flipped it open.
Blank pages. Every. Single. One.
Nigel frowned. He turned the pages faster, flipping through them, expecting something to appear. Nothing.
He scowled. ¡°Oy, any of you know this book?¡±
Silence.
Nigel looked up, and his breath hitched.
He was alone.
The bookshelves stretched impossibly high, their tops swallowed by shadows. The aisles now extended into a vast, endless labyrinth¡ªthe familiar architecture of the library was gone.
His grip on the book tightened.
¡°What the hell is this¡?¡± he muttered, jaw clenching.
His irritation flared. ¡°Not even ten damn minutes in this place, and something weird is already happening¡ª¡±
¡°Calm yourself, boy.¡±
A voice.
Smooth, unhurried and right behind him.
Nigel turned sharply¡ªhis sword already drawn, the polished blade flashing in the dim glow.
The Librarian stood there.
Still. Unbothered. Watching.
As if the weapon pointed at him was nothing more than a passing detail.
Chapter 25 - The Library (2)
Time seemed to freeze.
¡°What do you want?¡± Nigel demanded, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.
The Librarian only tilted his head, the faintest smile forming beneath his shemagh. ¡°That thing won¡¯t do you any good against me.¡±
To prove his point, he reached forward¡ªslow, deliberate¡ªand pinched the very tip of Nigel¡¯s blade between his fingers.
Then, with barely any effort, he crushed the metal.
A sharp dent caved inward, the once-perfect curve now warped beyond repair.
Nigel froze.
¡°If I wanted to harm you,¡± the Librarian continued, letting the ruined steel slip from his grasp, ¡°I would have done so long ago. Even before you entered the Tournament.¡±
Nigel¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Before¡ªwhat do you mean?¡±
The Librarian ignored the question.
¡°You¡¯re fortunate, Nigel Lowell,¡± he said instead, his voice smooth, knowing. ¡°You and your team barely scraped through the First Stage¡ªluck, a gamble, and the last-minute activation of that ability of yours. You didn¡¯t even know if it would work, did you?¡±
Nigel didn¡¯t answer.
The Librarian took a step forward. Not threatening, but inescapable.
¡°Your team is fractured,¡± he continued, his tone unwavering. ¡°You don¡¯t function well. Not yet. If you want even the slightest chance of surviving what¡¯s coming, you and your companions must grow.¡±
Nigel clenched his jaw.
¡°And more importantly¡¡± The Librarian¡¯s eyes gleamed beneath the dim lights. ¡°You need to stop listening to that voice in your head that tells you to distrust them.¡±
Nigel¡¯s chest tightened.
A slow, creeping sensation curled inside him, like the words had reached into his very bones and made a home there.
¡°You push away the part of you that knows they¡¯re good people,¡± the Librarian said. ¡°You push away anything that makes you feel.¡±
A cold chill ran down Nigel¡¯s spine. His grip loosened. Against his own will.
Silently, he returned the damaged sword to his waist.
¡°¡How do you know that?¡± he asked. His voice was lower now. Less defiant. ¡°Who are you?¡±
The Librarian paused, as if truly considering the question.
Then, with perfect clarity, he said¡ª
¡°I am everything.¡±
Nigel blinked. ¡°What?¡±
The Librarian took another step forward. The space around them seemed smaller now, as if the very library itself leaned in to hear.
¡°You and your companions have a vital role to play in this Tournament,¡± he said, his voice neither soft nor harsh¡ªsimply absolute.
¡°Take care of yourselves. Take care of each other.¡±
The words settled like a weight in Nigel¡¯s chest.
¡°The First Stage was nothing more than a glimpse of what¡¯s to come.¡±
Nigel clenched his fists. He knew. He already knew. But hearing it like this¡
The Librarian¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts once more.
¡°And one last thing.¡±
Nigel barely had time to brace himself.
¡°You¡¯ve been distracting yourself¡ªwith training, with fighting, with running.¡±
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Something prickled at the edges of Nigel¡¯s mind.
¡°You haven¡¯t given yourself the time to truly process everything you suffered.¡±
A sharp inhale. His body locked up.
¡°If you continue to ignore it, you will break. The rage will continue accumulating, like filling a glass drop by drop, until it overflows and shatter.¡±
Nigel¡¯s breath hitched.
His heart pounded. Too loud, too sudden.
It was like the words had been carved into him¡ªraw, undeniable, inescapable.
And before he could react¡ªbefore he could say anything¡ª
The Librarian vanished.
No sound. No movement.
Just¡ gone.
In a blink, Nigel was back.
The towering bookshelves stretched normally around him. The dim candlelight flickered gently overhead. The endless void was gone. as if nothing had happened.
Except for the weight in his chest.
Nigel stood still for a long moment.
Then¡ªslowly¡ªhe exhaled.
He slid the blank book back onto the shelf where he found it.
And without a word, he turned. The others were waiting.
William¡¯s voice echoed through the towering bookshelves.
No response.
The air pressed down on him¡ªheavy, suffocating.
His pulse quickened.
He had been walking for what felt like an eternity, yet¡ everything looked the same. The shelves stretched endlessly in all directions, books blurring together into an oppressive, inescapable maze.
His breathing turned shallow. Was he lost? Had the others vanished?
His fingers twitched toward the sword at his waist.
Something was wrong. Something was watching.
Then¡ª
¡°William Stoneswood.¡±
A deep, familiar voice rang through the silence.
¡°You don¡¯t have to be so tense all the time.¡±
William spun around.
A figure stood there, draped in travel-worn attire, the dark folds of his shemagh concealing all but his piercing green eyes. Eyes that glowed like embers beneath the dim library lights.
The Librarian.
¡°You weren¡¯t always like this,¡± the man continued, his voice laced with amusement¡ªand something deeper. ¡°Once upon a time, you had complete control over fear. You didn¡¯t let emotions cloud your vision.¡±
William¡¯s throat tightened.
The Librarian stepped forward, slow, unhurried. His presence was strange¡ªboth overwhelming and¡ reassuring.
¡°But I understand why you are the way you are now,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve been shaped by loss. By failure. You carry it with you, woven into the very fabric of your being.¡±
William¡¯s fingers hovered over his swprd.
The Librarian¡¯s smile deepened. ¡°You know there¡¯s no need for that.¡±
A moment of silence stretched between them.
Then¡ªslowly¡ªWilliam forced his hand away from his weapon.
The Librarian nodded, as if pleased. ¡°You¡¯re intelligent. Kind. Out of all of them, you are the most special.¡±
William blinked. ¡°What?¡±
¡°You have incredible potential,¡± the Librarian continued. ¡°But fear keeps you from reaching it. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. Fear of losing everything¡ªagain.¡±
William¡¯s breath hitched.
¡°And just like your companion, Nigel, you have a fatal flaw.¡±
His voice lowered, carrying an eerie weight.
¡°You both suppress your emotions. Especially anger.¡±
William stiffened.
¡°You bottle it up, let it fester, bury it deep because the world has conditioned you to do so. But emotions are not meant to be caged forever, boy.
¡°You and Nigel¡ª¡± The Librarian¡¯s eyes glowed beneath the shadows. ¡°¡ªare like glasses slowly filling, one drop at a time. And one day, a final drop will not just make it overflow. It will shatter you.¡±
A shiver crawled down William¡¯s spine.
¡°You need to let it out,¡± the Librarian urged. ¡°You need to let yourself feel¡ªnot just for your sake, but everyone¡¯s.¡±
William¡¯s pulse thundered in his ears. He had never thought about it like that.
His emotions had always been something to manage, control, suppress. He had never considered that maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthey were meant to be released.
¡°I¡¡± His voice barely came out. ¡°I think I understand.¡±
The Librarian watched him carefully.
William swallowed, his throat dry. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± he asked. ¡°Why help us?¡±
The Librarian sighed, almost as if he had been waiting for that question.
¡°Because it is my duty to guide you.¡±
William¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°To guide us?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Because without help, you will remain blind to your own faults. And if you do not grow¡¡± The Librarian¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper.
¡°¡you will fail.¡±
A cold weight settled in William¡¯s chest. He stared at the man, a storm of thoughts raging inside him.
¡°Who are you?¡± he finally asked.
The Librarian paused.
Then, with the faintest of smiles¡ª
¡°I am everything.¡±
William¡¯s breath hitched.
¡°¡I see,¡± he murmured, lowering his gaze in thought. ¡°I think I get it now.¡±
The Librarian chuckled softly. ¡°Good.¡±
He turned slightly, his form beginning to fade into the dim light of the library.
¡°But before I go,¡± he said, ¡°one last thing.¡±
William looked up.
The Librarian¡¯s voice softened, losing its usual enigmatic tone.
¡°You don¡¯t have to reveal your past. Not yet. But if you truly want to forge real bonds with your companions¡¡±
A pause.
¡°¡one day, you will have to tell them.¡±
William¡¯s breath caught.
His past. The one he had buried. The one that threatened to claw its way out if he ever let his guard down.
They wouldn¡¯t understand. They wouldn¡¯t accept him.
¡Would they?
The Librarian watched him for a long moment, as if he could see the battle waging inside him.
¡°Don¡¯t hold back,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Not with them.¡±
Then¡ªhe was gone.
No flicker of light, no distortion of space. Just gone, as if he had never been there to begin with.
William staggered slightly, inhaling sharply.
He was back.
The towering bookshelves stretched around him just as they had before. The distant echoes of footsteps returned, the murmured conversations of other visitors filling the silence that had once seemed endless.
Had any of it been real?
His fingers curled slightly, staring down at his own hands.
The Librarian¡¯s words echoed in his mind.
His past. His emotions. His fears. For so long, he had locked them away, convinced that silence was the only way forward.
But now, a crack had formed. And no matter how much he wanted to ignore it¡ It was only going to grow.
William stood there for a long while, lost in thought.
Chapter 26 - The Library (3)
The heavy silence of the library pressed down on Dovak as he moved between the towering shelves.
"Hey, guys! This is not funny!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the endless corridors of books.
Nothing.
His heart pounded. He had lost sight of the others so suddenly that, at first, he thought it was a joke. A stupid prank, maybe. But after minutes of searching, the uneasy feeling gnawing at his chest told him otherwise.
Then¡ªsomething changed.
The bookshelves, once pristine, began to decay. The further he walked, the worse it got.
Burnt edges, charred wood and the overwhelming scent of ash.
Dovak slowed. His usually steady hands twitched as he reached out, touching a shelf that crumbled at his fingertips.
Then, just ahead¡ª
A section had been completely incinerated.
Nothing remained but blackened ruins and piles of dust, as if a great fire had devoured everything. The sight pulled at something deep inside him¡ªsomething he refused to name.
Dovak crouched, scooping up a handful of ash. He let it slip through his fingers, the remnants weightless yet suffocating.
"What the hell is this¡?" he muttered.
A voice answered.
"Dovak Anir."
Deep. Smooth. Unshaken.
Dovak¡¯s entire body tensed. He turned sharply¡ªinstinct driving him to react before he even processed the words.
And there, standing just beyond the scorched shelves, was the Librarian.
Dark garments. Travel-worn attire. Green eyes that gleamed with something unreadable.
"Damn, pal!" Dovak let out a nervous chuckle, masking the unease curling in his gut. "You scared the life out of me. Listen, uh¡ would you mind explaining where the hell I am? Pretty sure this isn¡¯t the public section of the library."
The Librarian studied him. Not with suspicion. Not with amusement, but with something deeper.
Dovak shifted his stance. That stare? He had seen it before. It was the kind that stripped away every wall, every layer of armor he built to keep himself from cracking.
Then, the Librarian spoke.
"There is no need for that facade with me."
Dovak¡¯s grin froze.
His body stiffened, muscles coiling like a trapped animal.
¡°¡I don¡¯t¡¡± His voice wavered. "I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about."
"Yes, you do."
The words cut through him like a blade. The Librarian¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t harsh. It wasn¡¯t cruel.
It was simply the truth.
"I know the weight you carry."
Dovak couldn¡¯t move.
"I know the way you cope."
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Something inside him cracked.
His fingers twitched. His throat went dry. For the first time in a long time, there was no laugh, no sarcastic remark, no casual shrug to brush it off.
Just silence.
"If you continue letting this burden hold you back," the Librarian said, his voice unwavering, "you will never grow. You will never form true bonds. You will never reach your goal. And you will not survive."
Dovak¡¯s breath hitched.
The ashes slipped from his fingers.
And for the first time, he felt their weight.
"The guilt you carry was never yours to begin with," the Librarian continued, his tone softer now. "Accept what happened. Only then will you be able to break free and unlock your true potential."
Dovak¡¯s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
The words cut deep. Deeper than any blade. Deeper than any wound he had ever endured.
His entire life, he had carried it.
The weight of his past. The failures. The people he couldn''t save.
He never spoke about it. He never even let himself think about it. He buried it under laughter, under bravado, under an easygoing mask that made everyone believe he was fine.
But now¡ªright now¡ªthe mask was cracking.
The Librarian took another step forward, though his presence already loomed over him.
"You are meant to be the light that guides others," he said, his voice unwavering. "The one who unites the scattered and the divided. But only if you first learn to let go of your own chains."
Dovak¡¯s breath was unsteady. His hands trembled at his sides.
Let go? How could he?
How did someone simply let go of something that had defined them for so long?
The memories flashed like a burning reel of film.
The village engulfed in flames. The screams. The smell of charred wood and bodies. The realization that he was too late.
His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. If he let go, what was left of them?
But the Librarian¡¯s words lingered, wrapping around him like an inescapable truth.
Then¡ªhis voice lowered, quieter, almost teasing.
"And one last thing," the Librarian said. "You needn¡¯t worry about how others judge who your heart desires. Stay true to your feelings."
Dovak¡¯s eyes widened.
The tension in his chest¡ªso tightly wound for years¡ªsnapped like a frayed rope.
But before he could respond, before he could even begin to process what had just been said¡ª
The Librarian vanished. The oppressive darkness lifted, the burnt shelves were gone and the heavy scent of ash disappeared.
Dovak was back in the normal part of the library.
But he felt like a man who had just stepped out of a storm¡ªsoaked, shaking, and utterly exposed.
His knees buckled.
He collapsed, gripping his chest as the flood of emotions slammed into him all at once.
Memories. Regrets. Pain. He had been holding it in for years.
Every forced laugh, every joke at his own expense. Every time he pretended it didn¡¯t hurt.
His shoulders trembled.
His breathing came out in shaky, uneven gasps.
His entire body felt heavy, but for the first time¡ªhe wasn¡¯t sure if it was from carrying the weight¡ or finally letting some of it go.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
And for the first time in years¡ªDovak let himself cry.
¡°Hey!¡±
A voice snapped him out of it.
His breath hitched as he sharply turned, instinctively rubbing at his face before lowering his hands as he heard footsteps approaching. William rounded the corner, slowing when he spotted him.
Dovak quickly straightened up, rolling his shoulders like nothing happened.
¡°¡You good?¡± William asked, his tone careful.
¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Dovak replied¡ªtoo quickly. He forced a grin, pushing himself to his feet. ¡°Just¡ªuh¡ªjust had a crazy hallucination. There were burnt books everywhere¡ª¡± he waved his hands in exaggerated motions, ¡°¡ªash in the air! Probably got some in my eyes. Yeah, that¡¯s definitely what happened.¡±
William just stared at him. His gaze flickered to the faint redness around Dovak¡¯s eyes.
¡°Were you¡ª¡±
¡°No!¡± Dovak cut in immediately. Too loud. Too fast. ¡°No way, man. Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡± He let out a forced laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t even know the meaning of the word ¡®cry.¡¯¡±
William remained quiet. Then, after a moment, he sighed.
¡°¡I went through something too,¡± he admitted, shifting his weight. He glanced away, running a hand through his hair.
Dovak¡¯s grin faltered slightly.
William hesitated, then met his gaze.
¡°The Librarian?¡±
They said it at the same time.
They froze¡ªthen exchanged a knowing look.
¡°¡Yeah,¡± Dovak muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Bastard played us.¡±
William let out a stiff chuckle. ¡°Yeah¡ yeah, seems like it.¡±
Neither of them pushed further. Neither of them wanted to talk about what really happened.
Not yet.
Footsteps echoed behind them.
¡°Did you find Claire?¡±
Nigel¡¯s voice cut through the quiet, making both of them jolt slightly.
He appeared from between the shelves, his expression unreadable. His amber eyes flicked between them, noting the tension¡ªbut choosing not to comment.
Dovak¡¯s demeanor snapped back instantly. With a dramatic gasp, he lunged forward.
¡°I thought we lost you!¡± He threw his arms open. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re safe!¡±
Nigel sidestepped him effortlessly.
¡°We need to find the rest and get out of here,¡± he said flatly.
Dovak huffed. ¡°Fine, fine, kill the moment, why don¡¯t you.¡±
William snorted.
With that, the three of them set off once more, navigating through the towering shelves in search of their missing teammate, having forgotten their original goal for coming to the library.
Chapter 27 - The Library (4)
¡°Damn it,¡± Claire muttered, slamming a book shut. ¡°All these books are blank. Not a single drop of useful information.¡±
She had scoured every shelf, pulling anything remotely valuable, but each time she flipped through a page¡ªnothing. Just crisp, empty paper.
With an irritated sigh, she tossed another useless book onto the growing pile beside her.
¡°Maybe they¡¯re all fake,¡± she grumbled, yanking the next one off the shelf.
¡°The books will only reveal their contents to those who seek knowledge with genuine curiosity,¡± said a voice right beside her.
Claire spun instantly, fist already flying.
Her punch connected¡ªAnd stopped dead.
It was like hitting solid stone. No, worse¡ªlike striking reality itself.
The Librarian didn¡¯t even flinch.
Claire¡¯s breath hitched slightly. Her body remained rigid, muscles still coiled to strike again.
¡°Combat instinct,¡± the man observed, entirely unfazed. ¡°One of your greatest strengths¡ but also a weakness. You can¡¯t just punch everyone who catches you off guard, can you?¡±
¡°Survival instinct,¡± Claire corrected, narrowing her eyes. ¡°And if you ever sneak up on me again¡ª¡±
¡°What?¡± The Librarian¡¯s voice was calm, measured. ¡°Will you fight me? Intimidate me? You rely on strength to solve every problem, because it¡¯s all you¡¯ve ever known. But that strength has also made you indifferent. Arrogant.¡± His gaze sharpened. ¡°Keep going down this path, and you will lose them. And then, you¡¯ll be alone again.¡±
Claire stiffened. Something ugly twisted in her chest.
¡°So what?¡± she shot back, stepping closer. ¡°Who needs them? I can handle myself. I don¡¯t need anyone to help me or protect me. I can master this tou¡ª¡±
¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡±
The words cut through her like a blade.
¡°Individuals only shines when supported by collective strength,¡± the Librarian continued. ¡°You are no longer in the First Ring, holding back rebels and carving your path alone. This is the Chaos Tournament. There are people here whose power you can¡¯t even begin to imagine¡ªnot in this lifetime, nor a hundred more.¡±
His voice dropped slightly.
¡°That¡¯s why you need your team. You need them to grow.¡±
A tense silence settled between them.
And for the first time in years, she didn¡¯t have a response.
Claire¡¯s fists tightened, nails digging into her palms.
¡°And what the hell do you know about my goal?¡± she snapped. ¡°I¡¯ve spent years watching my own back. I don¡¯t need to rely on anyone ever again.¡±
The Librarian tilted his head slightly. His green eyes gleamed under the dim light.
¡°I know that betrayal leaves wounds that never truly heal.¡±
Her breath caught. The words hit too deep, too precisely.
No one knew. No one should know, as she made sure to eliminate the ones who did.
Her body tensed, her mind racing¡ªhow? How could he possibly know that?
She had never spoken to him before. Never.
¡°But just because you were betrayed once,¡± the Librarian continued, ¡°doesn¡¯t mean everyone else will do the same.¡±
His voice remained steady, unwavering, like he wasn¡¯t offering a possibility¡ªbut a certainty.
Claire¡¯s breathing was uneven now.
He was right.
And she hated it.
¡°And you know full well that you won¡¯t succeed alone.¡± His gaze sharpened. ¡°You won¡¯t find her.¡±
Her entire body locked up. A sharp, cold spike of emotion slammed into her chest.
He knows.
¡°I¡¡± Her throat felt dry. ¡°You¡ you don¡¯t know anything about me.¡±
Her voice had lost its fire.
The Librarian shrugged. ¡°Believe that if it makes you feel better.¡±
He turned slightly, taking a step back.
¡°But one thing is certain¡ªif you don¡¯t change, you¡¯ll be left behind. Keep my words in mind.¡± He glanced at her one last time.
¡°You might just find something more valuable than what you¡¯re looking for.¡±
And then¡ªhe was gone. Not a sound. Not a shift in the air. Just¡ gone.
Claire stood frozen, staring at the empty space where he had been.
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Her hands, still clenched, were shaking.
She didn¡¯t know how long she stood there, her pulse pounding in her ears, trying to convince herself that he was wrong.
But deep down, she knew he wasn¡¯t.
¡°Let¡¯s see what we have here,¡± Nyx muttered, running a finger along the spines of the books.
Most of them were useless¡ªtechnical manuals, outdated history books, and literary works she had no interest in. But then, one particular book caught her eye.
A black leather cover, adorned with three identical white and red circular symbols.
Her fingers hovered over it.
Something about the design felt¡ wrong.
She pulled it from the shelf, reading the title.
"The Homogenization of Species, by Joseph W. Whites."
Her brow furrowed.
The name wasn¡¯t familiar. But the weight of the book in her hands¡ªsolid, heavy, deliberate¡ªtold her that whatever was inside had been meant to last.
With a flick of her fingers, she cracked it open.
The pages were crisp, untouched. The text was dense, bloated with unnecessary rhetoric, but years of extracting information from walls of pointless fluff made it easy to skim straight to the core message.
[¡] Life on Earth is diverse. Throughout history, we have coexisted with thousands of species. We have played a role in the survival of some¡ and the extinction of many more.
Unfortunately, the latter is far more common.
Hundreds¡ªif not thousands¡ªof species have fallen victim to human greed. Whether through relentless urban expansion or the grotesque desire to mount the head of an exotic beast on a wall, we are the architects of death for countless living creatures.
But recently, we have reached a turning point in history.
Through the advancements of TSM (Time-Space Manipulation) technology, we have ventured beyond our world. We have discovered alien civilizations¡ªliving, breathing societies across the cosmos.
And we have discovered something else.
They are inferior.
Their technological progress lags behind ours by centuries, sometimes millennia. Some exist in what we would compare to our Middle Ages, others in a state akin to the Industrial Revolution. Some have not yet even discovered fire.
What does this tell us? That humanity is the pinnacle of evolution.
Until proven otherwise, we stand as the most advanced civilization in the known universe.
But now, these newly discovered species face a dire fate.
They risk falling to the same tragic end as many species on our home planet. A malevolent force could descend upon their worlds, subjugating them, bending them to their will. Worse still, someone with even greater cruelty could seek to erase them entirely.
But there is a solution. We have conquered space. We have conquered technology.
And now, we must conquer biology.
Our advancements in medicine¡ªspecifically genetics¡ªallow us to reshape, mold, and refine species as we see fit. We have already cured diseases once thought impossible to eradicate. We have revived the extinct.
Now, it is time for the final step.
We must reshape them in our image. If not identical to us, then at least close enough.
For their survival. For the survival of all.
Imagine a universe where all species are one.
No division. No disparity. No inequality of fate.
A unified galaxy, moving toward a singular goal¡ªan unstoppable force, marching in perfect harmony.
[¡] It is for this reason that I have founded an institution dedicated to this cause.
Any who share my vision are welcome to join.
Welcome to the Church of Homogenization.
"Nos omnibus homogeneis."
Nyx¡¯s grip on the book tightened.
Her pulse was steady, but her hands were not.
She had read plenty of propaganda before. Plenty of lunatics had made their way into history books, claiming they had the answers to "fix" the world.
But this?
This was something else. This wasn¡¯t just delusion. This was a doctrine.
Her eyes flicked back over the text.
"Life on Earth is diverse."
Earth.
The word stood out like a splinter lodged in her mind. She had seen it before¡ªburied in obscure records, whispered in fragments of lost history. But no one knew what it truly meant.
A place? A myth?
A long-dead civilization?
She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to move past it. Whatever Earth was, it had been important enough for this Whites guy to base his entire twisted ideology on it. And if his beliefs had survived this long, if the Church of Homogenization was still operating today¡
Then this wasn¡¯t just ancient history. This was still happening.
Her fingers traced the emblem on the cover¡ªthree identical circles, perfect and uniform.
Perfect.
Uniform.
Indistinguishable.
She clenched her jaw.
¡°Of course,¡± she muttered. ¡°There¡¯s always another cult.¡±
But this time, it felt different.
This time, she had a sinking feeling she hadn¡¯t just stumbled onto something old¡ª
She had stumbled onto something alive.
Nyx snapped the book shut, her grip firm as she turned.
The Librarian stood behind her, calm, unmoving, his green eyes gleaming beneath his black shemagh. He didn¡¯t look like he had walked up to her. He looked like he had always been there¡ªwatching, waiting.
¡°This book has a fascinating premise, doesn¡¯t it?¡± he mused, glancing at the cover as if it were a casual topic of conversation.
Nyx¡¯s jaw tightened.
¡°But personally,¡± he continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen far too much, ¡°I always found it to be a little too extreme for my taste.¡±
Nyx narrowed her eyes. He knew something.
She barely had a second to speak before the Librarian reached into his coat, pulling out a black wristband. Without hesitation, he tossed it to her.
She caught it instinctively, feeling the cool weight of it in her palm.
Frowning, she turned it over in her hands. It was identical to the ones Nigel and the others wore¡ªthe official tournament wristband. The proof of a legitimate competitor.
¡°How do you know I don¡¯t already have one?¡± she asked, slipping it onto her wrist despite the unease curling in her stomach.
The Librarian let out a low chuckle. ¡°Because you and your silver-haired friend skipped the first stage.¡±
Nyx stilled.
¡°And without this little thing,¡± he continued, tapping his own wrist, ¡°you¡¯d have a much harder time moving forward.¡±
Her stance shifted, shoulders squaring. There was always a catch.
¡°And?¡± Her voice was even. ¡°Are you planning to report us?¡±
The Librarian merely smiled, amused. ¡°Now, why would I do that?¡±
A pause. Then, his head tilted slightly, his next words sinking into her like a knife.
¡°You didn¡¯t come here just for the tournament, did you?¡±
Nyx didn¡¯t react immediately.
But her fingers twitched slightly.
He knew. Of course he knew.
He knew why she was here. Why she had truly come.
And if he knew that¡ªthen he knew far more than she was comfortable with.
¡°Who are you?¡± she asked, her voice lower now.
The Librarian¡¯s smile didn¡¯t fade.
And the answer¡
Chapter 28 - The Library (5)
¡°I¡¯m everything.¡±
The Librarian took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back. ¡°Listen closely, Nyx Volta. The group you¡¯ve joined is¡ unstable, to say the least. A loosely patched team, thrown together by coincidence and necessity. But given time and effort, it will become something invaluable. Not just to its members, but to the entire structure of the Rings themselves. Make sure it happens.¡±
Nyx¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What the hell is that supposed to mean?¡±
The Librarian¡¯s gaze remained steady. ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡±
Her fingers curled into fists. ¡°You keep acting like you know everything.¡±
A smirk tugged at the edges of his hidden face. ¡°Because I do.¡±
Nyx grit her teeth, ready to fire back, but before she could, he simply raised a hand in farewell.
¡°We¡¯ll talk again soon, Nyx.¡±
And just like that¡ªhe was gone.
A heavy silence settled around her.
Nyx exhaled sharply, forcing herself to steady her breath. That man was playing games¡ªfeeding them just enough to make them curious but never enough to actually understand.
Her gaze dropped to the wristband.
This wasn¡¯t just a tool for the tournament. It meant something more.
Nyx exhaled and slipped it into place.
For now, she needed to regroup. She turned on her heel and headed for the exit.
BREAK
Somewhere in the depths of the library, Sam walked alone.
He hadn¡¯t meant to get separated from the others¡ªat least, not like this. One second, he had been following along, casually browsing the bookshelves, and the next¡
Nothing.
No sounds. No footsteps. Just silence.
Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Well, this is weird.¡±
He glanced around. The library seemed to stretch on forever, its towering shelves filled with books older than anything he had ever seen. Unlike the others, he wasn¡¯t in some eerie, burnt-out ruin or endless corridor. It was just¡ quiet.
Too quiet.
¡°Alright, mystery man,¡± he called out, turning in a slow circle. ¡°I know you¡¯re here. So, let¡¯s get this over with, huh?¡±
There was a beat of silence.
Then¡ªa chuckle.
Sam turned.
The Librarian stood a few feet away, his ever-present calm almost irritating in contrast to the unnatural silence around them.
Sam crossed his arms. ¡°Took you long enough.¡±
The Librarian tilted his head. ¡°You were the easiest one to find.¡±
Sam arched an eyebrow. ¡°What, do I have a tracking beacon on me?¡±
The Librarian let out an amused breath. ¡°In a way, yes.¡±
Sam frowned, about to respond, when the Librarian spoke again.
¡°You are different from the others, Sam.¡±
His tone wasn¡¯t condescending or cryptic¡ªjust factual.
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Sam gave a lazy shrug. ¡°I¡¯d say I¡¯m the only normal one in the group, actually.¡±
The Librarian stepped closer. ¡°No, you¡¯re not normal. But unlike the others, you know who you are.¡±
That made Sam pause.
¡°You don¡¯t wrestle with uncertainty,¡± the Librarian continued. ¡°You don¡¯t get lost in self-doubt. You don¡¯t question your place in the world.¡± He gestured slightly. ¡°That makes you rare.¡±
Sam scratched his cheek. ¡°Well, thanks for the pep talk, coach. I¡¯ll be sure to give myself a pat on the back later.¡±
The Librarian chuckled again. ¡°You joke, but it¡¯s true. And because of that¡ you¡¯re more important than you realize.¡±
Sam¡¯s smirk faded slightly. ¡°What do you mean?¡±
The Librarian clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze sharp. ¡°Your presence stabilizes the others. You are the force that keeps them from crumbling.¡±
Sam blinked.
¡°Nyx, Nigel, William, Dovak¡ªeach of them is weighed down by something they refuse to face. Something that drags them into isolation, whether they realize it or not. But you?¡± The Librarian tilted his head. ¡°You pull people together without even trying. You give them something to rely on, even when they don¡¯t know they need it.¡±
Sam hesitated. ¡°That¡¯s¡ a lot of pressure.¡±
The Librarian¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°No. It¡¯s simply who you are.¡±
Sam scoffed lightly. ¡°So what, I¡¯m the glue that keeps this mess from falling apart?¡±
¡°In a way.¡± The Librarian¡¯s gaze softened, just a fraction. ¡°So don¡¯t change, Sam. Stay as you are. Because without you, they may never become what they need to be.¡±
A silence stretched between them.
Sam exhaled. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty big claim for a guy I just met.¡±
The Librarian smiled. ¡°I know you better than you think.¡±
And then¡ªhe was gone.
Sam stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where the Librarian had been.
Then, with a quiet shake of his head, he chuckled.
¡°Damn cryptic bastard.¡±
With that, he turned and started making his way back.
After weaving through the towering bookshelves, Sam finally spotted the rest of the group near the exit.
Nyx, Nigel, William, and Dovak stood in a loose formation¡ªbut the tension in the air was thick enough to cut.
At the center of it stood Claire.
She and Nyx were locked in a silent battle of wills.
Their postures were nearly identical¡ªarms crossed, feet planted, expressions unreadable, both radiating an unshakable presence.
Even without a word, Sam could tell. These two were going to be a problem.
Claire¡¯s lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. ¡°So, you¡¯re the famous General Nyx.¡±
Nyx exhaled slowly through her nose. ¡°And you must be Claire Miles.¡±
The words were flat. Not exactly hostile, but nowhere near friendly.
Behind them, Nigel stiffened.
Miles. Sentinel.
The pieces clicked together in his mind, but the realization hit like a gut punch.
His gaze sharpened, his body tensing before he could stop himself. He had been traveling with a Sentinel this whole time.
The same group responsible for everything. The ones who had turned his home into nothing but smoke and ruins.
He hadn¡¯t trusted Claire before¡ªbut now?
Now he was seriously reconsidering whether letting her join had been a mistake.
His grip tightened at his sides. But he said nothing.
Not yet.
Claire, meanwhile, tilted her head, her sharp, golden eyes scanning Nyx up and down. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect a Warden to make it this far. Your kind usually fights for ¡®order,¡¯ not glory.¡±
Nyx¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift. ¡°And I didn¡¯t expect to meet a Sentinel who lived to talk about it.¡±
Nigel¡¯s head snapped toward her.
Claire¡¯s smirk vanished. Her golden eyes darkened, sharp as a blade.
"Careful with your words, General."
Nyx took a slow step forward. ¡°Or what?¡±
The air between them crackled with unspoken hostility.
Claire let out a bitter chuckle. "You think I still answer to those bastards? The Sentinels betrayed me long before I had the chance to betray them."
Nyx¡¯s gaze narrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
Claire¡¯s fingers twitched, as if she was considering grabbing her weapon, but instead, she folded her arms tighter. ¡°I may have worn their insignia once, but I don¡¯t anymore. I don¡¯t take orders from anyone. Especially not them.¡±
Her words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
But for Nigel, it didn¡¯t change a thing.
A Sentinel was a Sentinel.
He had been forced to endure their cruelty firsthand. He had watched them execute his neighbors, burn down homes, drag innocent people into the streets like animals.
Even if Claire had left them, even if she had suffered at their hands too¡ªit didn''t erase what she was.
Dovak, sensing the tension was rapidly heading into dangerous territory, cleared his throat loudly. ¡°Well! Now that we¡¯re all here, why don¡¯t we¡ª¡±
¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±
Nigel¡¯s voice cut through the confrontation, sharp and final.
His tone made it clear¡ªthis wasn¡¯t up for discussion.
Without waiting for agreement, he turned and started toward the exit.
Nyx didn¡¯t look back at Claire. And Claire didn¡¯t look back at Nyx.
But they both knew this wasn¡¯t over.
The warm breeze of the Delta Zone greeted them as they stepped outside, a stark contrast to the heavy tension still clinging to the group.
For a while, no one spoke.
The encounters inside the library had left something in all of them¡ªunspoken questions, unresolved thoughts.
Even Sam, who usually had something witty to say, remained quiet as they walked through the well-lit streets.
Eventually, as if by unspoken agreement, they decided to split up for the night.
The hotel complex assigned to tournament participants provided each of them with private rooms¡ªsmall but comfortable.
For now, rest was the only thing on their minds.
But even as they lay in bed, the silence of sleep was not enough to drown out the echoes of the Librarian¡¯s words¡ and the friction growing between their team.
Chapter 29 - The repair
The artificial sky above the Delta Zone was a soft shade of blue, clouds drifting lazily overhead. The temperature was perfect¡ªtoo perfect. Controlled climate settings ensured that the air never felt too humid, too dry, or too cold.
Yet, despite the pleasant atmosphere, Claire didn¡¯t look comfortable.
She walked beside William, hands tucked into the pockets of her sleek black jacket. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings through her damaged helmet. Even in a place designed for rest, she never let her guard down completely.
William, on the other hand, was clearly debating whether or not to speak.
It wasn¡¯t obvious¡ªhe wasn¡¯t shifting awkwardly or fidgeting with his hands. But Claire had spent enough time around soldiers and warriors to recognize the signs. The slight tightening of his jaw. The way his fingers curled just a bit before relaxing again.
He wanted to ask her something.
And, eventually, he did.
¡°Can I ask you something?¡± he started, voice careful.
Claire raised an eyebrow. ¡°You just did.¡±
William hesitated for half a second before huffing out a quiet laugh. ¡°Alright. Can I ask you something else?¡±
She gave a small shrug, her usual nonchalance in place. ¡°Depends on what it is.¡±
William didn¡¯t ask right away. He took a breath, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
¡°¡Your past. With the Sentinels.¡±
Claire¡¯s steps slowed slightly.
It wasn¡¯t obvious¡ªnot enough for most people to notice. But William did.
She didn¡¯t snap at him. Didn¡¯t immediately shut him down.
Instead, she went silent.
William braced himself for her usual dismissal, but then¡ªfor some reason, she spoke.
¡°I was born into them,¡± she said.
William blinked. ¡°What?¡±
Claire exhaled through her nose, not quite a sigh, but close. ¡°My family¡ªMiles. You¡¯ve probably never heard of them, but they¡¯re old money. First Ring, high status, lots of power.¡± She glanced at him. ¡°And, naturally, they wanted me to follow the family tradition. So, I joined the Sentinels.¡±
William listened quietly.
Claire looked straight ahead, her tone unreadable. ¡°I didn¡¯t care, at first. It was just a job. Just another role to play.¡± She paused, fingers twitching slightly. ¡°And then¡ we were sent to the Ninth Ring.¡±
William¡¯s expression shifted, a flicker of unease crossing his face.
¡°The mission was simple,¡± Claire continued. ¡°We were supposed to subdue a Warden group. Just another op. Another fight. I didn¡¯t question it.¡±
Her golden eyes darkened slightly.
¡°But the longer we were there, the more things stopped adding up. We weren¡¯t just eliminating Wardens. We were preying on them.¡±
William¡¯s brow furrowed.
¡°It was¡ systematic,¡± Claire murmured. ¡°We weren¡¯t sent there to destroy an enemy. We were sent there to eradicate them. To remove them from existence. And not just them¡ªtheir families. Their contacts. Anyone who had ever helped them.¡±
William swallowed.
The Sentinels were always brutal. That much was common knowledge. But hearing it from her¡ªfrom someone who had fought alongside them¡ªmade it feel heavier.
¡°¡So what happened?¡± he asked.
Claire¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line.
¡°I hesitated,¡± she said. ¡°I questioned it. I showed doubt.¡±
And then, for the first time since she started speaking¡ªher voice wavered.
¡°They discarded me.¡±
William stiffened.
¡°My own team,¡± Claire said, her words slow, deliberate, like she was forcing herself to say them aloud. ¡°People I fought with, bled with, trusted with my life. The moment I hesitated, the moment I wasn¡¯t useful to them anymore¡ªthey turned on me.¡±
William felt something twist in his chest.
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¡°They left me for dead,¡± Claire said. ¡°They didn¡¯t even hesitate.¡±
A heavy silence followed.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Then¡ªa neon-lit storefront came into view.
The shop stood between two massive buildings, its bold sign flashing above the entrance:
LTT ¨C Luxury Tech & Tuning
The front display was filled with high-end electronic components, cutting-edge modification kits, and an overwhelming amount of overclocked equipment that practically screamed unnecessary excess.
Claire immediately stopped talking.
Her posture changed just slightly¡ªnot enough for an average person to notice, but William caught it. The way her shoulders stiffened. The slight shift in her stance.
There were other participants inside.
People browsing, inspecting, talking amongst themselves¡ªtoo many ears. Too many eyes.
William knew she wouldn¡¯t say another word here.
As they stepped inside, a man greeted them from behind the counter.
His outfit was¡ questionable.
He wore a pair of bright orange sandals¡ªwith socks. His worn-out cargo shorts were paired with an oversized, incredibly outdated-looking T-shirt that had a faded logo across the front. His glasses were slightly askew, and his hair was a mess¡ªa perfect combination of genius and complete disaster.
The man grinned. ¡°Welcome to LTT! What can I get for you two?¡±
William glanced at Claire¡¯s helmet. ¡°We need spare parts. Internal circuits for a Thunderstrike-09 helmet.¡±
The man let out a low whistle. ¡°Oof. You¡¯re rocking a Thunderstrike? That thing¡¯s got some crazy shielding tech. Not bad, not bad.¡±
He adjusted his glasses, peering at them over the frames. ¡°You frying the processors too fast, or did you actually manage to break it?¡±
Claire, still not in the mood to talk, just crossed her arms.
William smiled awkwardly. ¡°Uh¡ let¡¯s just say it¡¯s seen better days.¡±
The shop owner adjusted his glasses, peering curiously at Claire¡¯s helmet. ¡°So, what exactly happened to it?¡±
Claire shrugged, her tone flat. ¡°It took a hit.¡±
The man raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s¡ vague.¡±
William scratched the back of his head. ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t just any hit. The internal circuits got fried pretty badly. I had to bypass some of the core connections just to get the vision lenses barely working again, but it¡¯s a temporary fix at best. The whole system will shut down soon if we don¡¯t replace the damaged parts.¡±
The owner let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn. You know your way around tech, huh?¡± He studied William for a moment, then nodded approvingly. ¡°Alright, I think I¡¯ve got just what you need. Wait here.¡±
He disappeared into the back of the store, leaving Claire and William alone among the towering shelves of high-end tech. Claire remained silent, arms crossed, scanning the store with vague disinterest.
William, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t help but feel a little proud that the owner had acknowledged his skills. It wasn¡¯t often that people outside his team noticed what he could do.
A few minutes later, the owner returned, holding a small metal case. He set it on the counter and flipped it open. Inside, several sleek, custom-made circuit boards rested in a protective foam lining.
¡°This should do the trick,¡± the man said, handing them to William. ¡°Top-of-the-line stuff. They¡¯re adaptable, so you shouldn¡¯t have any compatibility issues with the Thunderstrike-09.¡±
William carefully picked up one of the boards, inspecting it. High efficiency, minimal latency¡ªthese were excellent.
The owner leaned on the counter. ¡°If you wanna do the repairs here, I¡¯ve got a private workroom in the back. No charge. Just keep things clean.¡±
William opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Claire spoke first.
¡°We¡¯ll take it.¡±
William blinked. ¡°Wait, what?¡±
Claire had already grabbed the case and was heading toward the back. She didn¡¯t even hesitate.
William exchanged a quick glance with the owner, who simply shrugged with an amused smirk.
¡°Well, alright then,¡± William muttered, following after her.
The workroom was small but well-equipped. A sturdy workbench sat in the middle, surrounded by neatly arranged tools and spare parts. A soft, overhead light illuminated the space, giving it an almost clinical feel.
Claire set the case down and pulled up a chair. William did the same, placing his tool kit on the table and exhaling softly.
Then, he glanced at her.
¡°¡You¡¯re gonna have to take off your helmet,¡± he said.
Claire hesitated. Not long, but enough for him to notice.
Then, without a word, she reached up and unlatched the helmet¡¯s locks.
A soft hiss escaped as the pressure seal released. She lifted it off, setting it gently on the table beside her.
Her eyes remained closed.
William swallowed. Even though he had already caught glimpses of her face before, seeing her like this¡ªfully unmasked, completely vulnerable¡ªwas something else entirely.
Her skin was smooth, pale, almost flawless. Her long red hair cascaded over her shoulders, illuminated slightly by the workroom¡¯s lighting. And those markings¡ªfaint, almost like veins, glowing softly beneath her skin¡ªconfirmed something he had suspected but never dared to say aloud.
¡°¡You¡¯re an Arkanyte.¡±
It wasn¡¯t a question.
It was half-stated, half-asked¡ªan automatic realization slipping out before he could stop himself. And the moment he did, he regretted it.
Shit.
He had no idea if that was something she wanted to talk about, or if he had just stepped over an invisible boundary.
But to his surprise, Claire didn¡¯t seem bothered.
¡°Yes,¡± she said simply.
William blinked. That was¡ easy.
Claire adjusted slightly in her chair, opening her golden eyes at last. ¡°I assume you already knew?¡±
¡°¡I had my suspicions,¡± William admitted. ¡°Arkanyte genetic markers aren¡¯t exactly subtle.¡±
Claire smirked faintly. ¡°No, they aren¡¯t.¡±
A brief silence passed before she spoke again.
¡°I wasn¡¯t always like this,¡± she murmured, looking down at her hands. ¡°I had¡ have a genetic disease. Rare, even among Arkanytes.¡±
William¡¯s brows furrowed.
Claire leaned back slightly, her gaze distant. ¡°It degenerates cells over time. The body weakens, slowly but surely. Medicine helped delay it, but it was never a cure.¡± She flexed her fingers absently. ¡°So I had two options. Slowly fall apart, or stop it permanently.¡±
Her hand lifted to her helmet. ¡°The exoskeleton wasn¡¯t just a choice. It was my only option.¡±
William didn¡¯t realize he was clenching his fists.
¡°¡Did it work?¡± he asked quietly.
Claire gave a short, dry laugh. ¡°Yes and no. The disease is still there, but the progression is¡ frozen. It won¡¯t kill me, but it won¡¯t ever be gone, either.¡±
William studied her expression carefully. She wasn¡¯t bitter. Not angry.
Just¡ accepting.
Like she had made peace with it a long time ago. William wasn¡¯t sure why, but he hated that.
Something about it felt wrong.
Like there had to be another way¡ªsomething she hadn¡¯t considered.
His mind was already running through possibilities.
Data. Research. Synthetic stabilizers. Gene therapy. There had to be something.
Claire noticed his silence and arched an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡±
¡°¡Nothing,¡± William said quickly, shaking himself out of his thoughts. ¡°Just¡ thinking.¡±
She smirked. ¡°Try not to overheat that brain of yours.¡±
William chuckled, scratching the back of his head. ¡°No promises.¡±
But in the back of his mind¡ªthe idea wouldn¡¯t leave.
If there was even a small chance he could help her¡
He was going to find a way.
Chapter 30 - Clash
William secured the last circuit board into place, carefully aligning the delicate connections. A quiet click signaled that everything was back where it belonged. With a satisfied nod, he leaned back, exhaling softly.
"Alright, that should do it," he said, setting his tools aside. "Try it now."
Claire took the helmet from his hands, her fingers brushing against his momentarily. Without a word, she slipped it back on, adjusting the fit before powering it up. A faint hum vibrated through the material as the internal systems rebooted.
A few seconds passed. Then¡ª
"Everything¡¯s functional," Claire confirmed.
William smiled. "Told you I could fix it."
Claire turned to him, and for a moment, she hesitated. Then¡ªwithout thinking, without understanding why¡ªshe reached up and lightly ran her fingers along his cheek.
William froze.
His brain completely shut down.
What?
The touch was brief, barely there, but warm. Delicate. It was the kind of gesture that didn¡¯t belong in this moment, not from Claire, not toward him.
Even Claire herself seemed just as shocked as he was.
Her fingers twitched. Her breath hitched. Then, like a glitch in her own system, she stiffened, and without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and bolted out of the workroom.
William sat there, unmoving, still processing what had just happened.
He blinked once. Then twice.
His thoughts caught up to him all at once.
What the hell just happened?!
For a full minute, he just sat there, staring at the door she had just rushed through, his face burning.
He was certain of one thing¡ª Claire had no idea why she did that either.
And that? That was somehow even more terrifying.
¡°What a way to wrap things up,¡± he muttered.
Nyx and Sam watched as Nigel trained with the Reaper.
"Your balance is off, kid," Sam noted, arms crossed as he observed Nigel¡¯s movements. "Every time you go for a wide swing, your body shifts too much in the opposite direction. You lose stability. Widen your stance, plant your feet properly. I¡¯d hate for something tragic to happen and have to deal with Nyx crying day and night."
Nyx responded with a sharp slap to Sam¡¯s back, making him grunt. Nigel, caught between amusement and discomfort, simply watched in silence.
"Maybe you should experience it firsthand," Nyx suggested, a smirk playing on her lips. With a flicker of purple energy, she summoned her beloved halberd¡ªRunebringer.
She had adapted quickly to the inventory system integrated into the tournament¡¯s wristbands. With just a thought, any stored item could materialize instantly, making the process effortless.
Runebringer was a weapon of eerie beauty¡ªits long shaft bathed in deep scarlet, its blade forged from obsidian-black metal. Just standing near it sent a chill through the air. Nigel still remembered Nyx¡¯s mastery with the weapon nearly ten years ago, back when they had first crossed paths. The memory alone was enough to make him wonder just how much stronger she had become since then.
"Alright," he said, hesitating for only a moment before gripping the Reaper more tightly. "Let¡¯s do this."
This was the perfect opportunity to see just how much he had improved.
A breeze rolled through the training ground, kicking up faint swirls of dust between them. Nigel adjusted his grip on the Reaper, watching Nyx carefully. Neither moved. Seconds stretched into an eternity.
Then, Nyx attacked.
She moved like a phantom¡ªsilent, precise, impossibly fast. Runebringer¡¯s crimson arc blurred through the air, cutting straight for his torso.
Too fast.
Nigel barely twisted away in time. The obsidian blade scraped across his chest, carving through fabric and skin alike. A burning sensation followed¡ªa shallow wound, but a warning.
No time to dwell on it.
A fist drove into his stomach like a battering ram. His vision blurred with the impact, air exploding from his lungs as he was launched backward. His boots scraped the ground as he skidded, barely managing to stay upright before staggering to a stop.
Damn. She hit just as hard as he remembered.
Ignoring the pain, Nigel surged forward, flipping the Reaper into its scythe form. The vantablack blade curved through the air in a deadly sweep.
Nyx didn¡¯t flinch.
A flick of her wrist sent Runebringer¡¯s shaft colliding with the scythe¡¯s handle, redirecting the strike effortlessly. The force nearly wrenched the weapon from Nigel¡¯s grasp.
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She pressed forward, hand darting out to snatch his throat.
Instinct roared through him. Move. Now.
Nigel ducked and twisted away, her fingers barely brushing his skin before he leapt out of reach. He landed a few feet back, muscles tensed, breath steadying.
Nyx rolled her shoulders, her expression unreadable. She hadn¡¯t broken a sweat.
Of course she hasn¡¯t.
Nigel exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance. This is how she fights. Ruthless. Relentless. No hesitation, no wasted movement.
And deep down, beneath the adrenaline, he was relieved. Thank the gods she was not an enemy.
They clashed again¡ªstrike after strike, Nyx pushing forward with overwhelming aggression. Each attack forced him back, each parry barely enough to keep him standing. His movements felt sluggish compared to hers, his footwork faltering.
I¡¯m losing.
Then¡ªabruptly¡ªNyx stopped.
Nigel blinked, breathing hard. ¡°What¡?¡±
She tilted her head, unimpressed. ¡°You¡¯re holding back.¡±
He stiffened.
¡°Whether you realize it or not,¡± she continued, her grip tightening on Runebringer. ¡°You fight like someone with shackles around his wrists. Your body hesitates. Your attacks lack intent. This isn¡¯t you.¡±
A voice slithered into his mind, smooth as silk.
She¡¯s right, you know.
Nigel¡¯s breath caught in his throat.
Let me take control.
The whisper coiled around his thoughts, sinking into the edges of his mind like oil into parchment.
You need to teach her a lesson.
Nigel¡¯s jaw clenched. Not now.
You¡¯ll never improve like this.
The voice was almost amused.
You¡¯re not even half the fighter you used to be.
He shoved the whisper aside.
Nyx was still watching him, arms crossed. She knew. Maybe not about the voice in his head, but about something.
¡°You weren¡¯t always like this,¡± she said. ¡°Your technique, your power¡ªnothing about you is the same as before.¡±
Nigel said nothing.
She continued. ¡°You hesitate. You get desperate too easily. You¡¯re not fighting to win. You¡¯re fighting not to lose.¡±
The words hit harder than any of her punches. His fingers curled around the Reaper¡¯s handle. He knew she was right.
Every fight since that day had felt like this. Every motion was wrong, every instinct dulled. He had spent years training, sharpening his skills, but ever since Martin¡¯s death, something in him refused to function the way it used to.
He had lost his edge.
Nyx sighed, shaking her head. ¡°You should use that skill.¡±
His heart lurched.
Serenus.
¡°No,¡± Nigel muttered. ¡°If I can¡¯t focus without it, then¡ª¡±
¡°Then what?¡± Nyx cut in. ¡°You¡¯re weak? A failure?¡±
His silence was answer enough.
Nyx clicked her tongue. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot, Nigel.¡±
He glanced up, frowning.
¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with using every tool at your disposal,¡± she said. ¡°You think you¡¯ll just magically get better if you keep struggling like this? The only way to improve is to try. Again and again. Until your body remembers how to move the way it¡¯s supposed to.¡±
Nigel exhaled, gripping his wristband.
She wasn¡¯t wrong. A few seconds passed in silence. Then, finally, he willed it to activate. The wristband pulsed. A faint blue glow traced up his arm as the message flickered to life:
[SERENUS ¨C 23% ACTIVATED]
The moment it took effect, everything around him sharpened¡ªhis breath steadied, his heartbeat slowed, and for the first time in a long time¡His mind felt clear.
Then, he raised his weapon.
¡°Alright,¡± Nigel muttered, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s try this again.¡±
Nyx grinned. ¡°Now we¡¯re talking.¡±
Nyx struck first.
Runebringer¡¯s purple arc tore through the space between them like a streak of molten light.
This time, Nigel was ready.
The Reaper¡¯s shaft clashed against the halberd¡¯s blade, steel meeting steel in a violent burst of sparks. His grip trembled under the force, feet digging into the dirt to keep from being thrown back. He barely held his ground¡ªbut he held it.
Nyx grinned. ¡°Better.¡±
She didn¡¯t let up.
Their weapons clashed again and again, each strike sharper, faster, testing the limits of Nigel¡¯s reaction speed. Serenus allowed his mind to flow effortlessly with his body, sharpening his reflexes, clearing the noise.
For the first time, he wasn¡¯t just enduring¡ªhe was fighting back.
He parried a downward slash, twisting his body into a counterattack, the Reaper¡¯s blade sweeping toward Nyx¡¯s side. She dodged by a hair¡¯s breadth, her footwork flawless, her stance never breaking.
Still, Nigel pressed forward.
His strikes came faster, more precise. Each movement followed the next like water, his mind fully immersed in the rhythm of battle.
Serenus is good¡ but it¡¯s not a miracle.
Despite the clarity, despite his improved focus, the gap between them remained. She was still stronger. Still faster. Not a single one of his attacks connected.
And yet¡ªit didn¡¯t matter.
For the first time in years, his body felt right.
The burden was still there, that weight pressing down on his chest, the hesitation still lurking in the depths of his mind. But now, it was lessened.
Then¡ªa mistake.
Not in the fight, not in his movements, but in his thoughts.
A flicker of something unwanted slipped through his mind. A different fight. A different battlefield.
His foot missed its mark.
Nyx took the opening instantly, her halberd whistling toward his ribs. Nigel barely managed to twist away, but it was sloppy¡ªhis focus slipping, his stance faltering.
More images flashed through his mind. Uninvited. Unrelenting.
Pain.
Screaming.
Chains clinking as someone thrashed against them. A jagged blade descending.
Blood. So much blood.
His chest tightened, the world blurred.
No. No, not now¡
A sharp beep echoed from his wristband.
[SERENUS DEACTIVATED]
Before he could register it, Nyx¡¯s knee slammed into his stomach.
The impact sent him to the ground hard. He barely had time to react before she was on top of him, Runebringer¡¯s blade pressed against his throat.
¡°Nigel,¡± she said, frowning. ¡°What the hell was¡ª¡±
Then she saw his face.
His eyes were wide, unfocused¡ªsomewhere else entirely.
His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his hands clutching at the dirt beneath him like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
And¡ªworse¡ªsomething dark flickered in his gaze.
A ripple of something other. A presence clawing at the edges of his mind.
Let me in.
Nigel¡¯s body trembled. His fingers twitched. He felt himself slipping.
The pressure in his head was unbearable¡ªlike something was tearing through his skull from the inside out.
Let go.
The whisper coiled around his thoughts, smooth, patient.
Let me show her how it¡¯s done.
His grip loosened. His mind¡ª
¡°NIGEL, YOU DRAMATIC SHIT, BREATHE!¡±
The voice hit him like a slap to the face.
A heavy weight ripped Nyx off him, and suddenly Sam was there, towering over him, arms crossed, his expression somewhere between unimpressed and mildly annoyed.
Nigel blinked rapidly, struggling to anchor himself back to reality. His vision was still swimming, his body still locked in that moment, trapped between past and present.
But then Sam squatted down next to him, nudging him roughly with his elbow.
¡°Hey,¡± he said, tone casual, as if Nigel wasn¡¯t in the middle of a breakdown. ¡°I get that Nyx is scary, but if you¡¯re gonna have a panic attack, at least do it after I place my bets, alright?¡±
Nigel blinked.
A shaky, disbelieving breath escaped him.
His mind had been on the verge of snapping. He had been this close to giving in¡ªto losing himself entirely.
And here was Sam. Just¡ talking shit.
Something inside him cracked¡ªnot in a breaking way, but in a way that pulled him back.
Sam smirked, nudging him again. ¡°There you go. You¡¯re looking less like a dying fish now.¡±
A sharp exhale left Nigel¡¯s lips. Not quite a laugh, but close.
Nyx was still staring, her face unreadable. The shock was gone, replaced by something else¡ªsomething heavier.
Her voice, when she spoke, was softer. ¡°Nigel¡¡±
He shook his head, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He felt exhausted, like he had just sprinted through hell and back. His heartbeat was still too fast, his body still too tense.
But he was here, and he was himself.
For now.
Chapter 31 - The Second Stage Start
The atmosphere was thick with tension.
It had been a day, yet every time William and Claire, or Nigel and Nyx, found themselves in the same room, the air grew heavy, charged with an unspoken unease.
Dovak leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass lazily before taking a sip of his exclusive Debianite liquor. "So those two had an accident while training?"
"Yeah," Sam replied, downing his margarita in a single gulp. "I think Nigel¡¯s dealing with a lot right now, and, honestly? It¡¯s probably our fault¡ or, well, not ours specifically, but the Wardens¡¯. You know how it is¡ªmissions, massacres, death, betrayal. Just another day in the most infamous rebel group across the Eleven Rings."
William raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What exactly happened?"
The three of them had developed a drinking tradition of sorts, and while each of them could hold their own, William remained undefeated in the art of alcohol tolerance¡ªan anomaly Sam and Dovak had yet to understand.
Sam exhaled, setting his empty glass down. "That, my friend, is something Nigel has to tell you himself," he said. "I don¡¯t know all the details¡ but I do know it was one of the darkest days the Wardens ever had."
For a moment, silence settled over them. Then, as if to reset the mood, Dovak turned toward William with a smirk.
"And what about you and Claire?" he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
William hesitated. Then, against their expectations, he actually answered.
"After I fixed her helmet¡ she thanked me. But her voice was different. Softer." He took a deep sip of Dovak¡¯s liquor before continuing. "And then¡ she reached out and touched my cheek."
Dovak¡¯s smirk widened. "My friend, I think you¡¯ve got yourself a woman in love."
William shook his head. "No¡ I don¡¯t think it was that. It felt strange. Like¡ she wasn¡¯t herself in that moment."
Sam, who had been leaning lazily on the bar, suddenly straightened up and clapped his hands together. "Alright, listen, my dear Will. In my many, many years of experience¡ªwhich, mind you, are way more than this bastard¡¯s¡ª" he gestured at Dovak, who merely raised an eyebrow, "¡ªI have learned a fundamental truth about people: they are all complicated. But in the Chaos Tournament?" He took a dramatic pause, shaking his head. "Complicated doesn¡¯t cut it. Everyone here is an absolute lunatic."
Dovak chuckled, but Sam wasn¡¯t done.
"Now, your dear Claire? She¡¯s already got all the red flags. Military background? Check. Childhood trauma? Probably. Trust issues? Definitely." He started counting on his fingers. "Explosive temper, possible unaddressed PTSD, and now she¡¯s switching between violently kicking ass to caressing your cheek like some tragic romance novel?" He whistled. "Buddy, best-case scenario, she¡¯s just bad at expressing emotions. Worst-case scenario? You¡¯re dealing with multiple personalities, or she¡¯s secretly plotting your murder but wants you to feel special first."
William sighed. "That¡¯s not really helping, Sam."
Sam shrugged. "Look, my advice? Just go with the flow. Either everything will fall into place, or you¡¯ll wake up one day with a knife to your throat and a sweet ¡®good morning¡¯ from your new psycho girlfriend. Either way, entertainment guaranteed."
Dovak let out a deep laugh. William, despite himself, cracked the faintest hint of a smirk.
Sam grinned, raising his newly refilled glass. "To chaos, my friends. May we all survive whatever the hell is coming next."
Dovak and William clinked their drinks against his, the weight of the conversation lingering¡ªbut, for now, drowned out by the burn of liquor and the brief reprieve of shared amusement.
The moment to leave the Delta Zone and begin the Second Stage of the Tournament was drawing near.
Across the compound, participants prepared in different ways. Some trained relentlessly, hammering their bodies into shape for the battles to come. Others indulged in the luxury of their surroundings, drinking in every comfort, knowing this might be the last time they ever experienced it.
Nigel stood alone in the training field.
His fingers curled around the Reaper¡¯s handle, his grip firm despite the ache in his muscles. His arms burned, his body screamed for rest, but he didn¡¯t stop.
Swing. Again. Again. Again.
The vantablack blade carved through the air in precise, controlled arcs. Over and over.
Not enough.
His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from his brow, but he barely registered the exhaustion clawing at him. His hands trembled with each movement¡ªnot from fear, not from weakness, but from sheer overuse. His skin had long since split open, callouses cracked and bleeding, crimson staining the Reaper¡¯s hilt.
He didn¡¯t care. He couldn¡¯t care.
"Not enough."
The words left his lips in a whisper, barely more than a breath, but the weight behind them was crushing.
He had to be stronger. But for what? What the hell was he even fighting for anymore?
Nigel¡¯s movements slowed. The Reaper¡¯s blade stopped mid-swing, hovering in the air as his grip loosened. His breathing was shallow, his body trembling¡ªnot just from exhaustion, but from something deeper.
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His mind had been circling the same question for days now.
Is this worth it? Does it even matter?
The memory of the Eleventh Ring clawed at him. The scent of burning metal, the echoes of dying screams, the sight of Tom and Lilly¡¯s broken bodies lying in pools of their own blood.
He had fought. He had survived. And the result?
He had lost them. Just like he had lost Martin.
Just like he had lost everything else.
Nigel exhaled sharply, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead, as if the pressure would keep his thoughts from unraveling.
Maybe it would be easier to just throw myself into the next fight and let it end.
The thought came too easily, slipping into his mind like a whisper, a suggestion from something lurking in the depths of his soul.
He clenched his jaw.
No.
He had made it this far. He was still alive.
But he wasn¡¯t sure if that was by choice, or just habit.
His grip tightened around the Reaper¡¯s hilt, nails digging into the bloodied skin of his palm.
He wanted to scream. To tear something apart. To feel something other than this damn emptiness gnawing at him.
Instead, he raised the Reaper again.
One more swing. Then another. And another.
Even as his body ached. Even as his mind drowned.
Because if he stopped now, he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever start again.
Nigel kept swinging the Reaper, each motion slower than the last, his muscles screaming in protest. His breath was ragged, his grip slick with sweat and blood.
Then, a voice¡ªdeep, commanding, and unnaturally amplified¡ªrippled through the Delta Zone.
¡°Participants of the Chaos Tournament¡ the time has come.¡±
The very air seemed to hum with energy as the announcement echoed across the compound. Every conversation stopped. Every movement stilled.
¡°The Second Stage awaits. Be warned¡ªwhat lies ahead will not be kind. The difficulty will not just increase¡ it will double. And yet, so will the rewards. That is¡ if you live long enough to claim them.¡±
A brief silence followed, heavy with unspoken implications.
Then, a chuckle¡ªlow, deliberate.
¡°Ah, but there¡¯s more, isn¡¯t there? Some of you may believe you¡¯ve grasped the power of your Chaos Bracelets, that you¡¯ve mastered their functions. But let me tell you a secret¡¡±**
A pause. The anticipation clawed at the silence.
¡°You haven¡¯t unlocked even a fraction of their potential.¡±
The words sent a ripple of unease through the participants. Nigel could feel it¡ªhe wasn¡¯t alone in this. Across the Delta Zone, fighters, schemers, survivors¡ªall of them were now on edge.
¡°I could tell you more¡ but where¡¯s the fun in that?¡±
Nigel¡¯s grip tightened around his weapon.
¡°If you wish to learn the truth¡ªif you wish to wield the full power that awaits you¡ªthen survive. Make it through the Second Stage. Earn your right to know.¡±
The voice shifted, its playfulness fading into something colder.
¡°You have one hour to prepare. Gather your strength. Say your final words, if you must. When the time is up, I expect you in the Central Plaza.¡±
Then, a final warning¡ªsharp and absolute.
¡°Any who fail to arrive¡ will be eliminated.¡±
A sharp static pulse crackled through the air.
Then¡ªsilence.
Nigel exhaled slowly, lowering the Reaper. The exhaustion in his muscles was still there. But now, beneath it, something else stirred.
A cold, creeping realization.
This Tournament hadn¡¯t truly begun yet.
Not even close.
The hour passed too quickly.
Before long, every participant stood gathered in the Central Plaza, tension thick in the air like an impending storm.
"Are you alright, my friend?" Dovak asked, glancing at Nigel with concern.
Nigel looked terrible.
Training nonstop had worn him down. His body was screaming for rest, his hands were still raw from gripping the Reaper for hours, and the bruises from his last sparring match hadn¡¯t even begun to fade.
"I¡¯m fine," Nigel muttered, barely paying attention.
William was about to say something, but a familiar voice¡ªthe one from the earlier announcement¡ªcut through the air.
The presenter had arrived.
Floating effortlessly above the Plaza, he was an elderly man, yet his presence radiated authority. His tailored white suit, black dress shirt, and pristine gloves gave him an almost refined elegance, though the smug smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he saw them all as nothing more than pawns in a game of chess. His black wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his sharp, knowing eyes, and in one hand, he twirled a polished cane, more as a prop than a necessity.
He looked like the kind of man who owned the room the moment he stepped inside¡ªor in this case, the battlefield before the blood had even spilled.
His smile widened as his gaze swept over them, full of mockery and amusement.
"Ah, I see you¡¯ve all managed to crawl here. How delightful," he mused, his voice dripping with condescension. "Well then, dear participants, it¡¯s time to move on to the next stage."
The Plaza remained silent, hundreds of fighters listening with stiffened backs and clenched fists.
"If you ever wish to bask in the luxuries of the Delta Zone again," he continued, his smile turning cruel, "all you have to do is survive. That¡¯s it. Simple, right?"
The way he said it made it clear¡ªhe didn¡¯t expect many of them to make it back.
He adjusted his hat before continuing.
"As I told you before, the difficulty doubles, but so do the rewards. The further you go, the greater the spoils. But let me be clear¡" He leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. "Not even I know what awaits you this time."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Perhaps you¡¯ll start off gently, given time to breathe," he mused. "Or¡" His grin widened. "Perhaps you¡¯ll be thrown directly into the jaws of death."
Some participants shifted uneasily. Others grinned, eager.
"In the end, the rules remain unchanged," he finished, laughing lightly. "Survive today, and you get to see tomorrow. Nothing more, nothing less."
Then, with a flourish of his cane, he raised three fingers into the air.
"Now then¡ shall we begin the countdown?"
The mood changed instantly.
Everyone tensed, instincts screaming at them to brace for the unknown.
William scanned the crowd.
Just like before the First Stage, some warriors gripped their weapons, their eyes cold and calculating, already sizing up potential prey. Others stood still, their minds racing with last-minute strategies. Some simply clenched their fists, suppressing their fear.
The first finger dropped.
"Three¡"
The entire Plaza held its breath.
"Two¡"
Sam glanced at the others. "Try not to get separated, alright?"
"One¡"
Some shut their eyes. Others grinned in anticipation.
"Off you go!" the presenter cackled.
A violent vortex of shifting, multicolored energy exploded through the Plaza, swallowing everything.
The world shattered.
The moment Nigel regained consciousness, he was on his knees, gasping.
His vision spun violently, his stomach churning from the disorienting sensation of teleportation. Before he could gather his bearings¡ª
"This is a disaster!" Dovak''s voice boomed over the raging storm.
A storm.
Nigel barely managed to push himself up before a massive wave slammed into the ship¡¯s deck, nearly knocking him back down.
A ship.
They were on a ship¡ªa massive steel war vessel, battered by relentless winds and crashing waves, the deck slick with seawater. The sky was angry, swirling clouds roaring with thunder, and cannon fire shook the air with deafening explosions.
They were in the middle of a battlefield.
A naval war.
Screams, gunfire, and the sound of splintering wood filled the chaos around them. In every direction, ships were engaged in combat¡ªsome burning, some already sinking, others still firing volleys of cannon blasts at distant enemies.
The ocean itself seemed furious, as if it were swallowing the weak whole.
Nigel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to steady his stance. The ship rocked violently beneath him, but he planted his feet, gripping the Reaper tightly.
Then, he looked up¡ª
And froze.
High above the battlefield, stretched across the stormy sky, was a massive, glowing counter.
Numbers.
Flashing red.
And rapidly rising.
"What¡ is it counting?" William muttered.
No one answered.
But deep down, they already knew.
A death counter. And the number was rising far too fast.
Chapter 32 - Naval War
Before anyone could react, a booming voice shook the ship, cutting through the chaos like a cannon blast.
"Brats! You¡¯re standing on my ship now¡ªthe ship of Captain Havok! If you want to live, you¡¯ll follow my orders. Or die screaming. Your choice!"
The sheer weight of his presence was enough to demand obedience.
The man standing at the helm was every bit the pirate warlord one would expect¡ªhis massive gut, thick, unkempt beard, and weathered skin made him look like he had lived through more battles than any of them could count. A worn leather eyepatch covered his left eye, while the other burned with a sharp, predatory glint. His scarred hands and face spoke of decades of warfare, and he moved across the deck with unshaken confidence, as if the storm, the cannon fire, and the bloodshed around them were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
His voice thundered over the crashing waves.
"All those with offensive abilities¡ªget your asses to the cannons! I don¡¯t care how strong you think you are¡ªtoday, you¡¯re artillery. Fire at anything that moves! There are no allies here¡ªonly enemies. This is one of many battlefields!"
He marched across the deck as if the ship weren¡¯t rocking violently beneath him, as if he had conquered a thousand storms before this one and had never once stumbled.
"Defensive types¡ªyou¡¯re on the mid-deck! I don¡¯t care what kind of pathetic barrier you can conjure¡ªuse it! Keep this ship afloat, or we all sink together!"
The command was absolute.
There was no room for negotiation, no time for hesitation.
The participants¡ªmany of whom were still reeling from the teleportation, the storm, the sheer insanity of their situation¡ªdidn¡¯t question him.
They moved, because defiance meant death.
"Nyx and Sam aren¡¯t here!" William shouted over the storm, just as a massive explosion rocked the ship.
The blast sent shockwaves through the deck, knocking several fighters off their feet.
Nigel hit the floor hard, barely aware of the impact. His limbs felt like lead, his vision swam, and his body refused to respond.
He couldn¡¯t move¡ª he had pushed himself too far.
The brutal training, the lack of sleep, the injuries¡ it had all caught up to him.
Stupid.
Training to the point of collapse had been a stupid decision.
He clenched his fists, trying to force himself up, but the moment he managed to lift himself an inch¡ªhis legs gave out again.
Dovak and William were too busy fighting to stay on their feet, gripping the cannons as they prepared to fire, but their eyes kept darting back to him.
They saw him struggling. They knew he wasn¡¯t okay.
But they couldn¡¯t help him. Not now.
Nigel gritted his teeth and tried again¡ªonly to slip once more, his arms too weak to hold him up.
Then¡ªa hand.
A massive, calloused hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him up like he weighed nothing.
Havok¡¯s grinning face filled his vision.
"You, boy." The captain¡¯s deep, rumbling voice practically vibrated through Nigel¡¯s skull.
The way he smiled was unsettling¡ªsharp, knowing, almost amused.
"You¡¯re going to the cabins. Time for a nice, long nap."
Nigel¡¯s gut twisted.
Something about the way he said it¡ªthe casual amusement in his tone, the way he handled him like a ragdoll¡ªfelt off.
But he didn¡¯t even have the strength to argue.
Before he could protest, Havok dragged him across the deck, his grip unbreakable.
William and Dovak immediately reacted, both lunging forward.
"Hey! Let him go!" William shouted.
Dovak¡¯s massive arms reached out to grab Havok¡¯s wrist¡ª
But with a single, casual flick of his hand, Havok tossed them both backward, sending them crashing back toward the cannons as if they were nothing more than inconvenient flies.
"Don¡¯t worry, lads," Havok called out, still dragging Nigel effortlessly. His voice carried a low, almost mocking growl.
"He won¡¯t die. Not yet, at least."
And just like that¡ªNigel was gone, pulled below deck.
Once inside the cabins, Havok wasted no time.
With zero regard for delicacy, he hauled Nigel over his shoulder and dumped him onto the first bed in sight.
Nigel barely registered the impact¡ª not because it didn¡¯t hurt, but because the bed was¡ strange.
For something that looked like a rotting wooden plank with a mattress barely thicker than a leaf, it felt almost impossibly comfortable.
A faint, heavy pressure settled over him, locking him in place.
Not restricting him¡ª just keeping him there.
Like the bed itself was telling him: "Stay."
Havok grinned down at him, arms crossed over his barrel-like chest.
"Your job is simple, boy¡ª sleep. Sleep, and find the key. If you do it before the others out there, you¡¯ll give us a damn good advantage.¡±
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Nigel¡¯s tired mind struggled to process that. "Key?" he muttered weakly.
Havok simply laughed¡ª a deep, booming sound, like a man who thrived off chaos.
"That¡¯s not my problem. Figure it out in your dreams." He gave Nigel a solid pat on the chest, strong enough to rattle his ribs.
"Do it right, and we¡¯ll be the first ship to get the hell out of this mess and make it to Hizar¡ªwhere fine maidens and even finer barrels of the best damn liquor this sea has ever seen are waiting for me."
He smirked. "Sweet dreams, Sleeping Beauty."
And with that, Havok turned and walked out, leaving zero explanation behind.
The moment Havok left, Nigel¡¯s body sank deeper into the bed.
His limbs felt heavy, the soreness in his muscles dulling into something distant, almost numb.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, he wasn¡¯t standing, wasn¡¯t fighting, wasn¡¯t running.
And gods, it felt¡ good.
The fatigue that had been gnawing at him for days finally sank its claws in deep, washing over him like a slow, suffocating tide.
It wasn¡¯t just exhaustion¡ªit was bone-deep weariness, something he had forced himself to ignore for too long.
His breathing slowed.
His body relaxed.
But with that relief came a terrible, inescapable pull.
Sleep was no longer an option¡ªit was an order.
His vision blurred, and thoughts faded.
No dreams, no memories¡ª just a deep, unrelenting blackness swallowing him whole.
And within seconds¡ He was gone.
A cold breeze slithered across his skin, biting into his flesh like unseen fingers. The scent of wet earth and rotting wood filled his nostrils, thick and suffocating.
Nigel¡¯s eyes snapped open.
He wasn¡¯t on the ship anymore.
Dark, towering trees loomed above him, their twisted branches stretching so high that they blotted out the sky, leaving only glimpses of something unnatural¡ªa sickly gray expanse, streaked with deep bordeaux veins, pulsing faintly, as if the sky itself was alive.
Something about this place felt wrong.
It wasn¡¯t fear¡ªnot yet. But his instincts screamed at him.
Leave. Leave now.
But he had nowhere to go.
Nigel pushed himself to his feet, forcing his legs to move.
The ground beneath him was wrong.
With each step, the earth let out a sickening squelch, like he was stepping on something half-decayed and wet. The sensation crawled up his spine, but he pressed forward, walking in a straight line, hoping to **find something¡ªanything¡ª**that could tell him where he was.
The silence should have been comforting.
It wasn¡¯t.
Because it wasn¡¯t true silence.
Somewhere in the distance, low, guttural sounds echoed between the trees.
They weren¡¯t voices. Not human ones, at least.
Nigel kept walking, his breathing steady¡ªuntil a deep boom shattered the eerie quiet.
A sound like a massive stone crashing down.
He froze. His body tensed, instincts sharpening as he listened¡ªreally listened.
And that¡¯s when he heard it.
Voices.
Not just one. Many.
Far away, but unmistakable.
They were speaking, But every word was in reverse.
Nigel¡¯s blood ran cold.
What the hell is this place?
Ignoring the weight sinking into his gut, he moved toward the source of the voices. His steps were careful, deliberate, making sure he didn¡¯t make a sound.
With each step, his breath grew heavier.
With each step, the air pressed against his skin, thick and suffocating.
Sweat dripped from his forehead in heavy droplets, and before he realized it, he was trembling.
What the hell was he feeling?
He forced himself forward. One step. Then another.
Then¡ª
The song began. A voice, low, unnatural, warped beyond human understanding began to chant.
The sound slithered through the air, twisting and writhing, as if the words themselves were alive.
The moment it reached his ears, a sharp pain exploded in his skull.
The world spun.
The trees blurred. His vision darkened at the edges.
His breath hitched.
Then it hit him.
Fear.
Not the kind that could be rationalized.
Not the kind that came with logic or explanation.
This was something deeper. Something wrong. Something that didn¡¯t belong in a world he understood.
He clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to resist whatever was clawing at his mind.
When he finally forced his eyes open, everything had changed.
The forest was gone. Nigel now stood in an endless field, stretching so far in every direction that the horizon itself seemed to warp and shift, as if the landscape wasn¡¯t truly real.
The same gray-bordeaux sky loomed above, but there was no sun, no light source¡ªand yet, everything was illuminated.
Far ahead, in the distance, a single speck of light flickered.
A building.
Nigel¡¯s pulse steadied, and he took a step forward. His foot didn¡¯t move.
A cold, wet sensation crawled up his ankles.
He looked down.
His legs were submerged in thick, black mud, nearly reaching his calves.
What the¡ª
Panic flared as he yanked his left foot up, pulling with all his strength. It came free.
He exhaled sharply.
But then¡ª his right foot sank deeper.
Shit!
Or at least, he thought he had shouted.
Because no sound came out.
The world around him remained deathly silent.
The mud clung to his skin, thick and unrelenting, pulling him down inch by inch.
He grabbed his leg with both hands, muscles straining, fighting against the invisible weight that was dragging him into the abyss below.
And somewhere in the distance¡ªthe song continued.
The mud refused to let go.
No matter how hard Nigel pulled, there was no sign of it loosening¡ªif anything, it seemed to tighten its grip, as if it were alive.
Then¡ªit got worse.
With a sudden, sickening lurch, the thick sludge splattered upwards, coating his hands.
The moment it touched his skin, it latched on.
His fingers froze in place, sticking to his own leg like they had been welded together.
A wave of cold dread crashed through him.
He stopped moving entirely.
Then¡ªhe heard it.
A deep, resonant voice.
Not speaking. Singing.
The sound was unnatural¡ªlow, heavy, vibrating through the very air like it wasn¡¯t being produced by vocal cords, but by something wrong.
And it was getting closer.
The earth beneath him shuddered.
The dried, withered grass trembled violently, as if something unseen was passing beneath it, rippling outward in every direction.
Nigel''s breath hitched.
He had to move. Now.
Ignoring the pain in his skull, he forced himself to turn his head¡ And immediately regretted it.
It was there.
A figure. Human-shaped. But not human.
Its body was composed of shifting black smoke, its form constantly distorting, as if reality itself was rejecting its presence.
Two massive, glowing white eyes pierced through the darkness of its form, flickering like lanterns in the abyss.
And those eyes were locked onto him.
Nigel¡¯s entire body seized with terror.
His mouth opened, his mind screaming¡ª
"Shit, shit, shit¡ª!"
But no sound came out.
The silence was absolute.
And the thing kept coming.
Suddenly, something shifted.
The pressure on his leg changed.
Nigel instinctively tilted his knee, testing the resistance¡ªand it gave way.
His eyes widened.
"Bingo!" he thought, though no sound left his lips.
Without hesitation, he twisted his trapped leg into a diagonal angle and yanked with everything he had.
With a sickening slurp, his foot tore free¡ªand with it, his hands snapped loose as well.
For the briefest moment, relief flooded his mind.
But then¡ª
A flicker of white light behind him.
The thing was right there.
Nigel didn''t look back.
Didn¡¯t dare.
His body moved on pure survival instinct as he launched forward, bolting toward the distant glow on the horizon.
Run. Run. Run.
But something was wrong.
Even though the weight of the mud was gone, his legs didn¡¯t move properly.
It felt as though he was running underwater, his strides slow, sluggish, unnatural.
It wasn''t exhaustion¡ªit was the world itself.
The laws of movement weren¡¯t obeying him.
Nigel''s mind raced.
This place¡ªthis warped world, these twisting skies, the unnatural gravity in his limbs¡ª
This isn¡¯t real.
A dream? A vision? Something else?
Whatever this was, the rules weren¡¯t normal.
The sky had no sun, yet there was light.
The landscape shifted, stretching unnaturally, warping the farther he ran.
Even sound itself was wrong.
He staggered to a stop. For the first time since waking up here, he focused. Not on his body, not on his fear.
On the world itself.
If this was a dream¡ªif this place obeyed thought over physics, then maybe¡
He could bend it to his will. Nigel closed his eyes.
The light in the distance. The house.
Closer. Bring it closer.
He willed it¡ªnot with his body, but with his mind.
A shift.
A lurch in the very fabric of the dream.
When Nigel opened his eyes¡ª
The speck of light on the horizon was no longer far away.
It was right in front of him.
A large, two-story house, standing impossibly close, as if it had always been there, waiting for him to realize he could reach it.
His heart pounded.
He had just manipulated the dream.
And if he could do that¡ What else was possible?